On the Metro today, we saw: two deaf men having an argument; a little girl enraptured with the accordionist (we gave him 40 centimes, to the dismay of other passengers); a family of four, aged 90 to 50, with tight lips (like my nephew describes his brother when he is angry); a woman in evening dress; a southeast asian woman in shades of brilliant pink and magenta (she entered like a dream onto the train); a gat-toothed libyan banging on the doors and windows; and countless others, perhaps not noteworthy but giving stage to all those exceptional.
We hadn't been taking the subway much lately. In another foolhardy attempt to economize, we stopped buying a monthly metro/bus/train pass. Each time we wanted to go anyplace over the last few months, we had to dish up a new ticket. This discouraged us from getting out and about. Depression set in. Nothing ever happens at home.
After 18 months, the foundry making Blair's bronze ibis sconces called. We took our metro line clear to the end (Port de la Chapelle), and a bus two stops to the foundry. It's not really that far from the metro to the foundry, but the course of the peripherique (Paris' beltway) through ancient neighborhoods makes it nearly impossible to get from one side to the other without risking life and limb. Besides, we have a bus pass.
At the foundry we discovered a super-sized horse sculpture in process. "There's a rider, too", the owner's son told us, "but we haven't got to him yet." I spotted the tail, which stood a good four feet high. The wax models for the bottom of the body with two front legs, and the rear, with its two legs, stood awaiting their casts. The black, waxen head was likewise separate --eyes the size of softballs. I scouted around the shop looking for more parts, while we waited thirty minutes for the owner; after 18 months, what's another half an hour?
It was great joy to see Mr. J., who, like us, has been an entrepreneur all of his life. He was pleased we weren't upset with his tardiness. The ibis looked better than I remembered -- I was happy to see them again. Together we discussed the state of business (two of his key employees left last year). We bemoaned the loss of work to China. "It's fine for them, but my employees want more than a bowl of rice for lunch."
We covered a lot of ground, conversationally, finally agreeing that some worries make life interesting. It gives perspective to the great stuff; how else could we go on? The ibis sconces would still be the same price, including the resin lenses for the lights.
We left at noon, and noticed the menu of the little restaurant next door. Blair chose three courses for 9 Euros; I had the chicken couscous for the same price. "You arrived just in time", according to the proprietress, "in twenty minutes there won't be a table." At 12:30 workers started pouring in, for a pastis and fine french lunch.
Laurie (painting and text) and Blair PESSEMIER
"Nicole's shoes" 6.5 x 20" acrylic on wood
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