Magnolia in the Park  Blair Pessemier   Acrylic on wood    10 x 14 inches    185.00

I found a large tuft of platinum blonde hair (I hope it was just an extension), and a cheap gold hoop earring.  An inexpensive handbag was thrown in the bushes, with nothing of merit inside.   I pocketed a kind of nice madras plaid hat which I’ll wash and use for summer.  I’d been looking for a new painting hat.  Blair isn’t keen on  it, but I can see the potential.    We were on a walk in the Bois de Boulogne this spring Sunday morning.

Harika was also on the hunt – there was evidence of rabbits and moles, which she sniffed for, to no avail.  Finally, she came upon the strangest of prey:  a football sized prickly mass that simply would not move:  a herrison, or hedgehog.  I am sure she never saw one before – growling at it, jumping around it produced no response.   Blair thought it was dead, but I pointed out it was very successfully “playing possum” – it did wriggle when he gently poked it with a stick.   It was a find we were all happy with:  Harika, the great huntress,  obviously subdued it, and we didn’t have to worry about blood.

We were in the woods because we have a rental car: a big van-like contraption so there’s room for our painters and paints.    Our painting workshops begin in earnest this week – on Monday we will paint like Monet in Giverny, and on Tuesday we’ll be alongside Van Gogh in Auvers-sur-Oise.  I believe I am the most enthusiastic workshop participant – I can’t wait to go.

We’ve passed the cusp of frigid winter – now it is frigid spring. A mere 50-something degrees Fahrenheit (13 or so Celsius) in the morning, but sunny.  It is my favorite time of the year, with the introduction of green leaves but not the full, shade-producing cover.  It’s all about light and dark, or light and movement, which brings me to the show “DYNAMO” which we went to at the Grand Palais this week.

At first, we thought the show was in the big glass-covered Palais, so we didn’t get there until after dinner, 8:45 or so – in fact, DYNAMO occupied huge space in the official gallery side of the Grand Palais – it was nearly  40,000 square feet!  It was too much to get through in an hour, but I had the sense of being in a 1960s wild, hypnotic, spinning wheel  atmosphere as urgent-looking guards would say, “you’ve three large rooms to go!” Like Patrick McGoohan in “the Prisoner” I had to make it to the outside by 10PM.  And EVERYONE was so HAPPY at the end of the show – smiling attendees who just didn’t want to leave -- that is incredible!

Classic artists like Vasarely, Agam, Flavin, Turrell opened the show.  But there were also people I was not familiar with, including Carlos Cruz-Diez who created big rooms of light produced color.  It made one think about art differently:  not painted on a canvas, or sculpted from a block of wood, but our participation was required to make it be art.  I would call the show a blockbuster just for the fact is was so different, so thought-provoking.  I liked it very much and will go back to look in greater detail.

I sat outside the gallery in a chair this week, it was so warm. On Saturday,  I was painting outside with Harika at St. Sulpice.   A crazy woman in apparently normal French dress appeared with her dog, a shepherd of somesort,  and a big playground ball.  She throws it up in the air and the dog bats it back with his nose.  There are about 100 people in the square, I am sitting on a bench.  Several people are hit by the ball.   Harika is having a nervous breakdown – for her,  we may as well be in Syria – the sky is falling!  She hides under the bench.     As I am painting the trees, the ball bounces off my very wet paint-filled palette, onto the painting.  The woman doesn’t apologize, makes some comment like it is my fault.  She must need the attention or just a walk in the woods.

TEFAF, the  European Fine Art Fair takes place every year in March.   It is one of my favorite events to attend:  like rummaging about, deluxe-style, in a museum basement.  In addition to the regular fare of the world’s best art and objects, this year there was a show of Van Gogh’s drawings.  We drove the 4 and a half hours to see it all last Sunday.

My favorite piece of art for sale was a painting of  Jawlensky’s:  Church in Prerow.  It is brilliant orange and green – just fabulous.     There were some other wonderful Jawlenskys, too.   But the artist I most liked for body of work was Kirchner.   Many different works of his  were shown,  from trees to flowers to people (extra good).   

The thing I noticed most at TEFAF was the marvelous curation of things.   I often notice that in museums now, the work seems to be chosen to make a good catalog, and is hung to accommadate giant crowds in a linear, chronological fashion.   Not so at TEFAF: art is arranged to catch your eye, to draw you in from one piece to another.  A furniture dealer in specializing in Hoffman hangs a hinged flower planter on a leading corner, your eye turns to the most important piece in the stand:  an armoire; one circulates around some rather odd statues.  All is illuminated by the best lighting I’ve seen.  I get an idea for making lampshades with silk scarves.   Right around the corner from them was a New York dealer, Jason Jaques, who sold outstanding ceramics. There were vases from the art nouveau period I’d never seen the likes of.  But more than just the work, he had the BEST display – art nouveau style iron work:  wall shelves, console tables.  It was so terrific we went in to tell him – and he said, “you guys present well yourselves”.  Which made me take a look around at people, and for one of the first times in my life, I realized our personal style fit in nicely with the crowd.

Holland is an intriguing place.  One knows instantly when leaving Belgium that you’ve arrived someplace far more interesting.  The houses – large painted brick mansions, square or rectangle, many windows, peaked pyramidal roofs with lyrical lanterns.   Sand is everywhere, along the many rivers – and the people are larger than I am.  It’s the only place I can go and feel short. There’s a boldness and confidence in them which allow them to wear bright colors, daring designs.  They are very open – they have to be because they’ve always been the traders of the world.

Soutine, my favorite artist, had two paintings in the show – a hunter, with an unusual blue background and a landscape.  I loved a bridge painted by Lyonel Feininger.   It’s humbling to return to our own gallery.

We had our first outdoor lesson on the 19 March.  Blair and I painted surprisingly similar pictures this time – and our brave Australian colleague toughed out the 35 degree day (no more than 2 Celsius).  Her husband, in shirtsleeves and down vest went with their son, in shorts, to the catacombs.  Crocodile Dundee had nothing on him.

I spent the rest of the week in the gallery making prints.   While I was there, a family stopped by -- the older of the two girls, all of seven, asks how I made the butterfly prints.  I show her the technique.  She’d  like to buy one, she says, but this is the last day of her trip, and she’s spent all her money.  Her sister, about four years old, is examining the stairs to the basement.   I tell her Vincent is working down there.  She turns to her father,  and announces in a stage whisper, “THAT is NOT Vincent Van Gogh!”

It was one of those weeks:  the good and the bad, the sun and the rain, the up and the down and more.

We spent three days in sunny Trouville.  We painted pictures of the beach every day, made lots of sketches, and carved some printing plates.  We found:  a cocktail umbrella – reminding me of a ‘Shirley Temple’ with a maraschino cherry served at a grown-ups party;  a mass of net and seaweed, suitable for a scarf; a rock [among millions], completely black, another completely white; a yellow plastic boomerang which never came back; paper amidst the sand giving the impression of blue willow pottery; a bottle cap shaped like a hat on top of a sand fort.   Sand castles abounded – it was school vacation week and kids were prolific.

All this was thanks to a friend’s apartment.  It was a rugged place, three uncomfortable twin beds and pigeons on the roof and in the walls, day and night.  We walked up three flights and a near-ladder (Harika had to be carried) to the penthouse, and my neck has just regained its normal verticality.  The view was good.   I don’t put much faith in feng shui, but I can say this place had an oddly disagreeable nature for me. I sneezed and coughed all night long, but recovered during the day.   I cooked fresh fish two days in a row, on a faulty gas-fired stove, two of three burners working.   The olive oil was frozen in the bottle when we arrived.  Lucky the heat worked in the bedroom.  We stayed three days because Harika was having a good time and we had to get back for work at the gallery on Thursday.

At the gallery, butterflies [prints] flew out our door, into the hands of an old friend we’d not seen in years.  I sold another painting, just as our landlord let us know he's sold our space.   We have to move out by the end of May.   The French authorities called to let us know our naturalization papers would take another five years (the cheery woman behind the desk,  told us "don't be discouraged")   There are lots of other people who need naturalization more than we do.

The highlight of the week was the staging of “D’Artagnan” from our gallery, by a private troupe of players for a Russian man making a gift to his wife and son.  But I am saving that story for next week, no kidding!

Laurie and Blair Pessemier

ARNOTES:  NO BAD WEATHER
“There is no bad weather, “a friend quotes her grandmother, “just wrong clothes.”

It was only 22 degrees Fahrenheit in Paris this morning.  Harika embraces this weather like she was born in Siberia instead of Tunisia.   Our only visitors to the gallery, in fact, have been from the more Northern climes, like Russia and the Scandinavian latitudes.  I feel pretty robust about the weather myself, bundled in my furry coat.  Blair and I went out yesterday to scope out a spot to paint a portrait of a couple on their engagement, en plein air, near the Eiffel Tower. 

Fifty trees were felled from the dog walking area in the Luxembourg Gardens.  It looks pretty grim, but the trees were diseased -- evidenced by large holes through the limbs and trunk.    I’ve suggested the vacant area, populated by stumps (spray painted fluorescent pink so we don’t trip on them) become a dog park.   We could dedicate the park to Idéfix, Obélix’s dog, who cries whenever a tree is cut down.   Obélix, Astérix and Idéfix (Dogmatix in the English version of the cartoon), are Gallic cartoon characters familiar to every child in France.Fifty trees were felled from the dog walking area in the Luxembourg Gardens.  It looks pretty grim, but the trees were diseased -- evidenced by large holes through the limbs and trunk.    I’ve suggested the vacant area, populated by stumps (spray painted fluorescent pink so we don’t trip on them) become a dog park.   We could dedicate the park to Idéfix, Obélix’s dog, who cries whenever a tree is cut down.   Obélix, Astérix and Idéfix (Dogmatix in the English version of the cartoon), are Gallic cartoon characters familiar to every child in France.

I’ve taken to decorating the stumps with stones and twigs that my dog Harika takes joy in removing.  I’ve better ideas to come, but need the temperature to crest freezing, at least.   Earthworks:  I love it when things evolve.

We had an outdoor art lesson this week, fortunately the day before the mercury plunged.   We painted at the carousel, which was garnished with tons of kids on Wednesday afternoon, the traditional afternoon off from school here.   It is the finest day in the park, with everyone from infants to grandparents enjoying the garden. 

It felt great to be out, but as the sun crept behind the trees we returned to the gallery/studio, where we spent a half-hour drawing.    Usually, I have a large collection of mismatched gloves suitable for wear while painting, but not this day.    In fact, my student had gloves, but we were beyond the point of no return.

We might have stayed in the whole time, but work is being done on the floor above the gallery, and the workmen have fallen through the ceiling three times.   You think I am joking, but I am not.   There are no precautions being taken for the safety of the workers, or us, as they remove the floor from the apartment above, leaving only the 16th century beams to separate the two spaces.   As long as the outside of the building isn’t breached, renovation work can take place inside without  any permit or restriction.   I wear my hat, as small chunks of ancient mortar/plaster bounce off my head  from above.   It makes selling paintings a little difficult, but traffic is light these cold days. 

Peruvian Lilies Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acyrlic on linen  16 x 11 inches  225.00

Artnotes:  A Coffee for You
The ride home to Paris from Villefranche on the TGV was a preview of things to come.  After turning North at Marseille, the sky clouded up and shortly after we were powering through driving snow.  The weather has remained wet and cold from that day forward.  There have been sun breaks but our temperatures are just above freezing.   I long for a sit on the beach, but things aren’t looking hopeful.

My mind wanders back to last Sunday at Eze, a village on top of a hill overlooking the Mediterranean.  It was the third time we tried to get there, which seems to have been the charm.  It was a friend’s birthday, so we made a reservation at a fine restaurant with a view.

We took one bus up the hill, and waited another twenty minutes for the next one.  The natives were restless, but I knew we’d make it this time.  It was a maniacal ride, with bat turns and no place to sit down, but I managed not to get carsick.

We walked the last few yards up the hill.  A stony outcropping at the top of a hill is home to a 12th century village.  Stone pathways give way to two Relais/Chateau hotels (one was closed for the season) and lots of little shops catering to summer tourists.   At the very top of the hill is a cactus garden (the French call it a "jardin exotique") intertwined among the ruins of an ancient castle.  The views are beyond fantastic.

After an aperitif on the terrace, we took our lunch inside.  The food was impeccable, the best we had on our month in Villefranche.  It was a lengthy sit, and our friend insisted on taking a taxi back down the hill (it is also possible to walk down a path).  In the end, the 3 mile  taxi ride cost as much as one of the dinners.  So goes the life of a tourist.

We had such a wonderful time painting in Villefranche we are planning a similar foray next year, for a longer period.  I rarely go back to the same place twice, but left so many stones unturned I have to go back and see what lurks in Antibes and Nice.

And next year, I hope to have more painters with me – the sunshine and turquoise water are just too good to pass up.

In Paris this week, I painted at a café by myself.  The waiter must have thought I was waiting for someone, because he never took my order.  After two small paintings, I left.  Blair bought flowers, which I have painted in the house.

We’re planning to take our gallery back, this time with a different twist.  An artist friend has offered to occupy the studio downstairs, which makes our rent more affordable.  On the main floor, we are going to include artistic objects in the mix a things – you might not want to buy a painting, but what about a chair?  We’ve some very odd items which might stimulate conversation. I am buying a coffee machine (you know, those Nespresso things?  You put a little tablet in the machine, add water?  No mess) so I can treat myself to cappuccino and offer one to you.

View from Rothschild Garden  Blair Pessemier Acrylic on linen  13 x 18 inches   350.00
Ranunculas in Paris Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic on linen 11 x 16 inches

Blair,