ARTNOTES:   Magical Magi

On the beach on Tuesday day,  a smallish man wearing a stingy brim hat and wraparound sunglasses appeared.  Harika was attracted to him at once, which helped me overlook the fact he was the owner of the oversized baggage near the steps to the beach.

Our discoveries have been both good and bad on this trip to the South.  We have had three days of rain, which interferes with our good nature.  It has allowed us to convert some of the grapefruit and the ten pounds of oranges (sweet and mandarin) which our neighbors gave us, into marmalade.  Now what to do with it?  It is too heavy to ship.   EAT.

Picking Oranges    Laurie Fox Pessemier    Acrylic/canvas   32 x 42 inches  $1250.00



The fellow at the beach recognized us as English speakers at once.  “Nice [the city]  is NICE,”  he says, “this place is paradise.  We don’t even need to die to find it.”  He got down on the sand with Harika.  She jumped on him and licked his nose. “Dog is GOD,” he philosophizes.   English is clearly not his first language, but he is good.

Our house here, an old artist atelier is beautiful, despite the fact there are no stairs between floors, only a ladder. We moved the bed, formerly on the lower floor, up to the main floor.  Our full sized bedroom below had a toilet in it, only hidden by a curtain:  convenient, in some ways, but off-putting at times. There are no numbers on the stove to indicate temperature; the freezer door fell off; the candlestick broke when we tried to put a candle in it.

We went to the grand market at Ventimiglia, Italy on Friday.  I have never seen so many leather goods and cashmere sweaters .  Of course, there were Italian vendors selling Parmesan cheese (only 10 euros a kilo), preserved meats, gorgonzola – we bought  all those foods, including a reasonably priced salt cod.    But selling everything else are people from all corners of the world.



The man on the beach noticed our paintings.   “This is wonderful how it comes from you,” he continues, “looking at the land, then through here (pointing to his head). “  He asks how much.  We make a price, and he tells us to  wait here, as he runs up the stairs.

An Indian sort of man tries to sell me a hand sewing machine at the market in Italy.  We settle on a needle threader, green and pink plastic for 1.70; I imagine at one time it was made of wood, soft to the touch – today it is made in China.  A Sri Lankan comes by with rings and bangles; Senegalese have watches;  Chinese ladies sell gloves.

When l listen to one of my favorite Christmas stories, Amahl and the Night Visitors, I think of all these men from all over the world, bringing us gifts.   ‘Goat cheese and walnuts, figs and cucumbers…  ‘  And I didn’t even have to leave Paradise.

Moonrise over Cap-Ferrat   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Oil/canvas  11 x 18  275.00

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!!!
Laurie and Blair Pessemier

YES, MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!, Don (great Moonrise painting Laurie)

Before posting Laurie's post I want to talk about Blair's painting. Because he uses the same palette as Laurie but can also paint in a very realistic style, I take his work very seriously. I often say that nature sticks to the rules, "it's darkest next to the light and lightest next to the dark". That's a giv'in. Now look at Blair's latest,  Eglise at Criqueboeuf   Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/wood  6.5 x 9.5  125.00. First the sky, He shows where the unseen sun in the sky is with color. He  (and she) paint very quickly, catching the colors of one hour of the day.) As he adds progressive color to his undercoat color drawing he often combines the colors of a pattern. Scarlet, his first color down representing the darkest color and it's opposite color turquoise mix together making the darkest dark's in the painting. The scarlet isn't covered completely with the new dark as I would do, the mind completes the work. Now the colors turquoise (mostly cyan) and scarlet (mostly red) plus dark (the combination of the two) are in place and we see the completed hedge in the foreground. Don

Artnotes: Have a Laugh
A generous friend loaned us her apartment in Trouville this week.  We drove up on Sunday and stayed through Wednesday.  I had to take allergy medicine while I was there, but frolicking on the beach is always worth it.

We painted from the car – gnarly apple trees in shades of gold; big old trees robed in oranges.  The warmth of the leaf color against the grey sky was beautiful.  We painted a little on the beach, but freezing temperatures and precipitation (was that snow?) held us back some.  Harika knew she was growing that big heavy coat for something, and she could lay on the sand like it was July – when she wasn’t jumping in the air for joy.

We cooked sole and oysters while we were there, eating by candlelight in our fourth floor perch  with the clattering shutters overlooking the sea. 
We returned to a dinner invitation at a friend’s house in Paris.  They  shared with us (and another three people) their experiences in Africa.  She loved to see how happy the children were when she gave them crayons “they rarely have pencils, let alone COLOR”.  Their group ASKED the people what they wanted for projects.  It wasn’t hospitals or schools, but a way to stop flooding every year; and a way to keep the rope from the well clean and off the ground -- sound ideas on the way to bigger projects.

There was big talk about birth control and population growth, especially from one woman who herself came from a family of 13 kids.  It’s like being the last family allowed to propagate, or the final immigrant to a country – it just doesn’t work like that.  There was more talk about how warm and loving the people were there – they smile and laugh. 

I currently live in a country with little laughter, and the prospect sounded divine.  I can laugh like a banshee, which I haven’t been doing a lot lately, but know it’s still in there.  I hope to cut loose during our Thanksgiving holiday in Connecticut.  Maybe I will even laugh on the plane, probably over the size and placement of our bargain seats.

Once in awhile I have to laugh at how serious I can take things, and Blair and I giggle like school kids.  It exposes our soul.

Happy Thanksgiving Laurie and Blair, enjoy Connecticut. My brother lives there in Bridgeport. Don Jusko

Hi Laurie,
Artnotes: Now or Never
“Do you think she’s going to the Frida Khalo show?” I asked my fellow painter.  A woman in a red embroidered skirt and gold-studded boots walked by, a bit heavy on the makeup.  In the next hour, I saw more and more women looking like this; some had wigs.    Did I spend too much time in the paint?  No, it was Halloween in the Tuilieries Garden. 

The line for the Khalo show must have been two hours long – a shame, I thought for those who just wanted to see Monet’s Waterlilies, normally a twenty-minute wait at the Orangerie.  I had considered a visit to the Waterlilies on this blustery day – I needed to warm up.  But the line was daunting.

My talented first time painter and I set up first along the Seine – near the foot of the Pont des Arts.  She painted her first ever work, and I made two.  We moved to the Tuileries after a hot chocolate (I had a wine), where she painted another, better one, and I painted two more.  Finally, we perched on the banks of the river near the Pont Alexandre III.  We each painted a canvas.  I was dog tired by the time I got home and climbed our six flights of stairs (our elevator is being updated).  Then I had to take the charming Harika dog out.  Two hundred stairs in an hour.  Sheesh.

Blair, meanwhile, was selling artwork at the Contemporary Art Fair at Bastille.  And sell he did:  three the first day, one on Friday, and interest by certain others/galleries.  It’s the best response we’ve had in a long time, which goes to show:  TRAFFIC MATTERS.   We have been getting as many people passing by our stand in an hour as we did on rue Servandoni (where our old gallery was), in a day.  And these are people looking for art.

I stop by at least once a day to encourage Blair and visit with whoever might be at our stand (#615).  The atmosphere is quite remarkable: Parisian artists abound, from tricky sculptors to glittery graphists.  The women across from us are a 40-ish French contemporary abstract painter and a 20- year-old Chinese girl painting “villages” in France.   Beside us are two maniacs with hundreds of piercings (you think I am kidding), red plaid pants with buckles all over, offering weird bad-dream images of women with pointy breasts and no hands. Our own stand-mate works in India Ink.  Jewelry and chairs to the right.

The clientele is almost as good, dressed up in ultra-cool gallery garb.  Dramatic makeup and striking jewelry can be seen as people pass by, looking chic, pretending not to really see what’s on the wall.   I got a telephone call at home Friday from someone who walked by and snatched a card:  “I was there at two yesterday, can I come by your studio next week?”

I can’t believe we never did this before.  I suppose there’s a time and place for everything.  Maybe we wouldn’t have been ready, or as good, or as confident.  It’s now or never.

Blair and Laurie Pessemier

Artnotes: Tumbling Along,
A friend passed along an invitation this week for a show of the work of the late artist Albert Marquet.  Marquet is one of our favorite artists, so we hopped a train to Pontoise to the Musée Tavet-Delacour.   It took about an hour and a half for us to get to Pontoise by train – passing over the Seine, by Asnieres, Colombe, Argentueil, Eragny, and numerous other bergs.  It was interesting to see this route from St. Lazare station.

Our return destination was Gare de Nord, this route chosen on the basis of a cleaner, newer train, with giant windows.  It took a bit longer, but  the car was less crowded and we saw a more picturesque set of suburbs in the direction of Enghien-les-Bains and the racetrack there.

A friend passed along an invitation this week for a show of the work of the late artist Albert Marquet.  Marquet is one of our favorite artists, so we hopped a train to Pontoise to the Musée Tavet-Delacour.   It took about an hour and a half for us to get to Pontoise by train – passing over the Seine, by Asnieres, Colombe, Argentueil, Eragny, and numerous other bergs.  It was interesting to see this route from St. Lazare station.

Our return destination was Gare de Nord, this route chosen on the basis of a cleaner, newer train, with giant windows.  It took a bit longer, but  the car was less crowded and we saw a more picturesque set of suburbs in the direction of Enghien-les-Bains and the racetrack there. 

There were about 25 paintings by Marquet on view,  painted along the Seine between Paris and Normandy.   They were scenes we knew, although we hadn’t seen at least half of the Marquet paintings, many from private collections.   He was a master of painting in grey weather, adding just a bright spot here or there to spark the picture.   There was a terrific night scene of Samaritaine and the Pont Neuf.  His images of le Havre were surprising and great – le Havre took a real beating in World War II, so it’s difficult to think of it so beautiful.  One of the paintings he did was of the bassin at le Havre – a beautiful deep blue water scene.   So many of the pictures of water makes me want to go right out and paint.

Blair has been so inspired by the shows we’ve seen:   Water at Rouen, Braque, and now this Marquet show; we’re now  signed  up to be in the Contemporary Art Fair at Bastille, here in Paris.  We’ll be there in stand 615 from the 31 October until 4 November.

We’ve been hanging about the Seine ourselves, eating lunch and walking in the new area, formerly inhabited by cars, between the Musee d’Orsay and Eiffel Tower.    I am thinking new, larger, work as we seek a painting venue for the months of December, January and February.

This all has gotten me more enthused  about having a painting boat.  I am anticipating a 20 foot craft with a small motor(s)  and a cover in case of rain.  We’ll stay close to the banks of the Seine, and maybe the Oise.    We’ll use it for painting workshops, and keep it just outside the city.  I am thinking of creating an Indiegogo campaign to fund its purchase and subsequent rehabilitation.  I am seeking  advice from those with knowledge about boats in a river, boating in France,  and other related crazy ideas, so let me know what you think.

Artnotes:  Discovery
The  scale of man-made objects in Brittany is different than the rest of France.  Huge stone walls and granite houses guard against the powerful sea.  It is hard to image that centuries ago these fortresses were constructed by the hands of men.  We were in St Malo this weekend, where pirates and corsairs commissioned by the king set sail  centuries ago to fight the other super-powers of the sea, the Dutch and English.  Frigates have given way to sailing schools, but the effect of blue and white still predominates.

The sky is bigger in Brittany and clouds fly by as fast as the sea birds.   Fluffy white clouds resemble horses and dogs and babies in the sky.  The blue is a clear, clean blue which imparts its deep color on the ocean.

We painted a few small works while we were there.  It was a big painting week for us.

We had a workshop on Thursday, and for the first time, painted along the “new quai” in Paris.  This summer the city closed the banks of the Seine where the cars used to pass, to create a pedestrian walkway.   We settled in beside the Pont Alexandre III for a painting session.  Conveniently located railroad ties made neat seats as we sat and painted.  There were tables to play chess and parchesi, backgammon and Chinese checkers.  The fragrances from the food stands were alluring.  We ran into people we knew there, who seemed as delighted as we were about the urban improvements. 

We managed a picture or two at the Luxembourg Gardens on Monday, with a novice painter who turned out to be pretty good.  He fell into a near zen state as painting took over his being.   People are always surprised how compelling the act of painting can be – for us, it’s a great feeling when someone else discovers art.

PS.  There are many more images from this week at:  www.paintfox.com

Blair painted two portraits this week, this one of Sharon.

I am sitting in the sunshine, FINALLY, and able to write artnotes.   It rained every day last week, and more is on the way.  I can’t write a happy story when the sky is grey, which could prove to be a problem in the coming months.


I am writing from bed with a fever, after having painted at Giverny in the rain Thursday evening – I was soaked to the skin.  I am hoping malady this will pass without a trip to the doctor.   I think that maybe I just need a few days to warm up and to THINK.

My nephew, Henry, gets a cold once in a while and he lies on the couch surrounded by crumpled-up kleenex.  “He just needs time to think, “ I tell my sister.  My nephews lead a busy life with school and sports, music lessons and recreation.

Kids always seem to know what’s right for them (within limits, of course).  I was much more self-assured fifty years ago.   I always knew what I wanted to do (paint, and write stories!) before I got all confused about “making a living”.

I few years ago I asked Joel, the wine merchant in our old neighborhood, what he would do if he won the lotto.  “I’d keep right on doing what I am doing now,” he replied.  I was flabbergasted.  For the first time realized work didn’t have to be “work”.

My niece just left her job at McDonald's for a position with Verizon.  She loved McDonalds and the older customers, especially, loved her bubbly personality.  It remains to be seen if she will stay at the new post or return to where she was happier.


Blair and I really enjoy running the painting workshops.  Our painters this week were all good painters, with wildly divergent styles.   We painted near Notre Dame, out at Auvers-sur-Oise and at Giverny with them.  “You are part of my bucket list,” one told me.

It made me feel I was making a difference, which maybe ought to be what life is about, rather than making a living.  Joel loved selling wine to the neighborhood, choosing flavors he thinks will match our palate, and being at the shop. 

My only objection to painting as a profession was that it was solitary.  Now we paint with others.

Laurie and Blair Pessemier

Artnotes: Flying from Here to There

When I try to sum up our trip to the USA, I am stymied:  it is always wonderful, a little sad, fabulously successful and hard to leave behind.   Although it takes me a week or so to get used to being “home”, it takes that much time to adjust to being back (home, too, I guess—which is which?).    When Blair wanted to look at places to live in the US six months a year, I told him “I can’t live in two places.”

I loved the long conversations in which I understood not only the language, but the cultural vocabulary that provoked them.   I discovered that I missed some current lingo:  I shouldn’t be using the word exceptional, except to describe disabled children; special hasn’t been a legitimate description for some time.   I hung on every word, regardless of philosophical or political opinion.  I love that I can do that – coming from afar I lay no claim to any political party, and can like everyone.  I think it is sad that people line up on a side (I can see you cringing as you read this).   I see things as an outsider now, readily uncovering the economic motivations for most political decisions.

We drove our Prius (gas economy is all I can say) over 3,600 miles while we were there.  It was impossible to walk anyplace on account of lack of sidewalks and other cars.   I swam a lot.  I loved jumping into the very cool water and being weightless (helping me to forget the pounds I put on while I was there).    We ate lobsters and corn, hot dogs and nachos.

We were in the country with bears and bobcats, skunks and bats.  In the lake there were fish, which would come right up and check me out if I stood still long enough.  I watched the birds pick bugs out of automobile grills, like a barbecue.  Harika rolled in the grass in Connecticut and Virginia; she ate meatballs and cold cuts.


We have a new gallery, “J Gallery” in North Carolina, and left more paintings with the Riverfront Gallery in Westport, Connecticut.   Our show at the String and Splinter in High Point was a big success.

Our first few days back in Paris were hot and sultry, followed by intermittent rainstorms on Friday’s  painting workshop.  Our painter (just one) braved the elements with us, and we produced a few canvases.  It felt very good to be back at painting again. 


I made dinner last night for American friends, one who lives here, and another who used to.  We played Quiddler using our new battery-powered card shuffler from the US.    My tomatoes are ripening on the vine, well-tended by friends J and M in our absence.  My first one is almost ready to pick.  No deer on the sixth floor balcony.


Harika   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  12 x 12     $195.00