The Volkswagen Golf easily handled speeds of 160 kph (96 mph) as we sped down the Autobahn.  BMWs and Mercedes' passed us as though we were standing still.  I feel exhilarated at such speeds.  My grandmother, born well before the invention of the automobile, used to urge my uncle in his new convertible:  go faster.

We were in Germany this week, peddling our artwork for a new (airport) hotel project and to "flesh out" an existing artwork program at another.  The new project is a novel one:  we've been asked to make drawings of regional monuments and landscapes to excite the interest of the guest in local travel.  It's not a sure thing, but we're in the running.

Some artists have a problem with selling reproductions of their work, but not me. If Picasso can be have his bouquet of flowers on a pillowcase, I am happy to be paid for the print hanging over the bed.

Travel never fails to inspire me, regardless of the quality of the experience.  It changes the track in my mind, and I see things as I never saw them before.  We stop the car to take pictures, make sketches.  The Rhine flows around Frankfurt through rolling hills dotted with remains of ancient castles.  Fields of blue-green wheat, yellow-green grapes, and a multitude of crops create a verdant composition against red-brown earth, and a backdrop of violet hills -- I am ready for the Volksmarch.   We make a note to take the boat ride down the river -- only 10 Euros.

We spent the night in Bodenheim, in the heart of the German wine district.  Local fish cooked in fresh grape leaves was the featured dish, accompanied by a local red wine:  excellent.  Typical in Germany are wide, wooden tables, with seats for six on each side.  There were 13 seated near us, making happy, beers all around.   We slept in twin beds, German-style, this night before our 25th wedding anniversary.  Our room was under the eaves, paneled in wood.  I could eat liverwurst for breakfast.

I feel comfortable in Germany.  The "Saxon-ness" of their voices sounds a lot like American English.  People here are hearty -- this isn't a test to see who can loose the most kilos, like in France.  There is a spirit of generosity.  Our client greets us forcefully, with a big smile, on time.   One earns a smile in France, after waiting half an hour beyond the scheduled appointment (I generalize -- we have clients here that we love).  Germany, Italy and France share borders but not many characteristics.  In Italy two weeks ago, men relaxed around the piazza.  In Germany people bustle through the square on their way to someplace else.  No place is perfect.  In the brewhouse on that square, we eat lunch:  a provocative combination of a pork patty, smothered in strawberry jam, mustard and mozzarella cheese.  (when I describe it, our six year old neighbor, Simon, says, "that sounds good!")

We packed up our six paintings and passel of material into the rental car and make it back to Paris in less than four hours.  Only to spend 90 minutes covering 6 miles between the peripherique and our apartment, in town.

Yesterday I painted the cupboard doors in our kitchen:  Iris, five feet tall.  Formerly the doors held our list of New Years resolutions.  Today I will consolidate our goals around the edge:  work hard, earn lots, BE GENEROUS.



Laurie (text) and Blair (painting) PESSEMIER
"Bodenheim"  oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches