"Oh, I am so glad I don't feel like I HAVE TO do something," the woman behind the counter told me.  "I would hate to be one of those people who had to play music, or sports or something."  After painting my second picture that day, I could only sigh.

On our recent trip to the US, I was positively impressed by the plenitude of local baseball teams.  Throughout North Carolina and Virginia, teams like the "Tides" were making headlines.  I have always loved painting baseball scenes, and I brought the newspapers home with me to work from.

I am not much of a sports fan, as anyone who knows me will testify.  I am almost indifferent to teams, but rather enjoy the action on both sides.  I like a nice uniform, especially red.

Around Paris, Blair and I have been painting horses.  In the city, we have the "Garde Republicaine" and the "Ecole Militaire" -- carefully shaved and groomed Arabians in fancy dress. Ponies and donkeys populate the parks.  Race courses and equestrian events ring the city: Maisons Lafitte, Vincennes, St. Cloud, Auteuil, Chantilly and Enghien, to name a few.

The train goes direct to the hippodrome at Enghien, from Gare de Nord -- 2 Euros, 60 centimes.  In less than twenty minutes we're at the entry gate.  After the start of the fifth race, entry is free.

I bought a book on painting horses, although it says little about how big a head seems to be.  I learned there are no muscles beneath the knees, and only ligaments hold those spindly legs in line.  Anne-Marie brought me Ken Hultgren's "drawing animals" which I believe will help immensely.  Meanwhile, I try to divide the body into sections, and think about the neck.

The course at Enghien is for the steeplechase.  To see so many pounds of horse flesh clear the hurdle is impressive.  Some horses leap high and free of the obstacle; others brush the top of the broomstraw barrier.  One lost his boots.

The jockeys are just as wonderful as the horses, in their brilliant silks and white jodhpurs.  It's clear not all have cleared the hurdles, either, with broken noses and crooked smiles.  Others are very young.  We watch them walk from the scales to the ring, wearing their thin-soled patent leather boots.

The horses are dying to run, as they parade patiently around the ring.  On the second or third turn around, the jockey mounts his steed, helped by an assistant.  The stirrups are at his head level, only used to stand crouched over the horse, whipping him along.  As they pass the end of the fence, the horse breaks into a run, and the pair make a perfunctory inspection of the track ahead.

Before the race a jockey in magenta and royal blue stripes falls as his horse balks at the barrier.  Number five is scratched from the roster.  His rider is rubbing his own shoulder.  Five was my tentative pick, being the biggest horse.  We don't bet on any races, though -- we couldn't paint enough pictures to pay for that.

I look at jockeys on the Internet, but find my was back to baseball.  I am looking for a team that might want a pair of artists to document their season -- a cheap place to stay and a ride on the bus.



Laurie and Blair PESSEMIER
"A Passion For"
Blair Pessemier  "HORSES at Enghien"   Oil on Linen   21 x 32
Laurie Fox Pessemier   "SWING"  Acrylic on Canvas   11 x 14