The man who lives upstairs has been playing the same piece of music since the day he moved into his apartment, in late 2003. Each day he comes home for lunch and plays the piano until he makes a mistake.  Then he makes the mistake three or four times in a row, and then begins the piece again.  He has never ever played a different song, nor have I heard the conclusion of this one.  Saves on sheet music.

I have always joked that he plays the sound track to my life in Paris.  Now, the idea of that has become alarming.  Am I just going over and over the same territory until I reach an obstacle?

The weather has made a turnaround. Two donkeys and eight ponies pass us on the way to the Luxembourg Gardens, where they are working doubletime.  The mornings are still cold (about 40F; 8C), and their breath is steamy.  Their barnyard scent changes the ambiance  of the busy street.  The bus waits for them.  It will reach 70 degrees Fahrenheit by midday (21 C).

We walked to the Tuileries (my favorite Paris park) yesterday to try to peddle Blair's carousel painting to the proprietor of the merry-go-round.  He wasn't there, but we bought tickets for a half dozen rides.  I chose a horse with a full ponytail, and sat sidesaddle in my skirt.  Happy French tunes played.

A French entrepreneur has been visiting the restaurant recently.  He grew up in our neighborhood, but now lives near Bayonne.  He publishes a new food magazine.  This is great inspiration for us.  He's MADE something in a difficult economic climate -- it is the only time we have.

We are talking to a French company about bringing their stores to market in America.  We are craving "something to do" -- not forever but for six months.  It involves art and framing; interior design and real estate.  We could use our whole brains.

The pianist upstairs seeks the mistake in his playing, as if it were his goal.  I think it's better to ignore the small error and play until the finish. Then begin anew.

I try to paint outdoors but the spring sun on the still parched winter landscape is too harsh for my palette.  I find pictures of pianists and work from their photographs.  I see their bodies, but know that their spirits are elsewhere.



Laurie (paintings and text) and Blair PESSEMIER

Four easy pieces; acrylic on wood or linen (detail of large one; ranging in size from 11 x 14" to 6 x 9")