Caves and Cravings

In June, I introduced my clients to Paris by ascending the Eiffel Tower in the afternoon, where we could gaze far across the sun drenched city to the Basilica Sacre Coeur, crowning Montmartre, only to ascend Montmartre late that night  up the steps of that monument and look back the opposite direction to see the illuminated city and tower twinkling back at us. Yesterday bore similarities mirror images. We made our way to Roussignac, one of the many pre-historic caves within 30 miles of here, to see absolute herds of mammoths, horses, capricorns, rhinoceros and bisons drawn 15,000 years ago on the caves ceilings and walls. What overwhelmed me traveling several kilometers underground to see such ancient drawings, was man’s intrinsic, inescapable need to create and tell his story in some visual form. When these caves were inhabited by middle Magdalenian people, they were only high enough to crawl in. Like Michelangelo, these first artists drew their stories lying on their backs.

Back on our hilltop medieval village, a mere 8 or so centuries old, we ambled under a clear and starry sky to a lovely restaurant near the top of Limeuil. Sitting comfortably upright on the terrace under ancient wysteria arbors and garden lights, we savored a perfectly prepared repast of Périgord gastronomic delights. Silently licking the last morsels of walnut cake and crème anglaise from my fork, my mind ambled through the day-compressed tour of civilization, from burrowing underground to the beginning of man to this sublime moment of evening exhilaration. And my soul, whatever that enigmatic thing is, felt as full and satisfied as my stomach.

Breathing Deep

Being in the French countryside is a paradox for me. On one hand, my senses are on overload. My eyes are analyzing everything I observe. It’s just so beautiful on a superficial, basic tourist kind of  level. Then there’s the art stuff added like a cherry on top. Shadows. Light. Shapes. Lines. Capturing the three dimensions in two on a little piece of canvas. Reducing all the beauty to its essentials. That’s the challenge of every artist, wherever they find themselves; I can return from the market at home and find painting material in the vegetables I load into the fridge. Some end up directly in my studio as models for my next study. All’s well as long as I remember to return them to the kitchen.

Speaking of markets, today is market day. As Rochelle and Mike get ready to go, I’m here by the river using the town internet. Imagine having to come to the town hall garden by the river to check your email. Sitting in the chill of the morning as the sun comes up, listening to the rustle of the river to my right[The second option is  going to the restaurant next door which still picks up the connection and have a coffee, beer or wine(if not lunch or dinner) to check your internet]. That’s the other part of the paradox. Life slows down. Many things are less convenient. The rat race melts like chasing tigers turning to butter. Suddenly, with more powers of observation, I better detect the light change as I watch the sun rise and set, not to mention the star-gazing far from any city light or smog. Oh my God, the stars! Last night the sky was so clear, I saw some I’ve never seen before over the ancient rooftops which are my home for these three autumn weeks in the Périgord. Strikes, leaks and missing bed sheets melt like circling tigers to reveal a delectable, buttery experience I’ve come to call, for good reason, Artistic Adventures.

I’ve been slow to blog because I can’t get pictures from my new phone to my laptop. After vacillating, I’ve decided to post blogs without pictures. They can be seen on my Facebook page this time around. I’ll insert them in the blog when I get home. Maybe.

Strike Two!

If you followed my blog through Burgundy this past June, you’ll recall I was trapped in the “little” train strike that turned into a “big” one. Isn’t one strike a year enough?! Obviously not, since I found myself maneuvering the current “grève” of the french Air France pilots this past week. Thanks to my french Facebook friend, Valerie Pillot, for giving me the heads up early in the week and Julie Kapper, my Delta flight attendant painting student, who advised me to follow my gut and rebook my Delta reservation through KLM instead of waiting to see if you-know-who would cancel my flight or not. They did and I was able to side-swipe what could have been a 4 or five day delay and loose only one.

Add to that snafu a complication of assembling a new traveling easel that put me in a last minute tailspin. That set saws spinning and three trips to Lowe’s for wood and Best Buy for the right tripod. What if I hadn’t been organizing my suitcase packing strategy for over a week? Yoga breathing and repeating the mantra “Everything is going exactly as it should” protected my from my own predisposition to simply collapse in a puddle or scream in outrage. Self-pity, is never flattering and I was determined to stay in the moment and increase my stamina for problem solving.

Success. All packed. Decent sleep. Rising early to take care of those last loose threads, I kissed dogs goodbye, rode smoothly to the airport with Jim at the wheel. A line-less bag checkin and I found myself pre-qualified for TSA, to boot! Here in Atlanta I sit a satisfied soul, having savored a lunch of watermelon salad, roasted cauliflower and a dish of giant italian white beans and peppers. And a glass of white wine. There’s nothing like that first glass of vacation wine. The switch flips and the world is right. When everyone in Ohio is sound asleep or awake with insomnia, my students Rochelle, Mike and I will be settling in to our stone house in the Périgord.

Yes, Jim, “I love our life!”

Success Unexpected

 

Peaceful Times, the Perigord. Stebner 30×40 oil on linen.

 

If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.

 

Henry David Thoreau

 

Here in my sixth decade, more and more, I find myself surrounded by remarkably comfortable cushions of success. Labor day weekend was one of them. The most delightful assortment of people, familiar and new, arrived throughout the afternoon to see my art show, “Blissful Bounty”. As much as I love the act of painting, there’s a marvelous fulfillment in seeing viewers response to my canvases and watching my paintings find their home. I’m just a facilitator in that process. Success.

My good health report earlier that week. Success.

Making final preparations to return to France next week, I realize that I spend about two months  a year discovering and sharing the beauty of that special country with others. Something that I only dreamed about as a child has come to fruition beyond my imagination. It still fills me with boyish glee to pack my bag and anticipate the adventure. Success.

Packing one more art event in the days before departing, I’ll be at Chentini Gallery in Hudson, Ohio tomorrow, September 12th, from 5-7 or so, as a featured artist for the monthly town art walk. If you missed Blissful Bounty on August 30th, why not take in the Art Walk? Laura Centini has done an amazing job creating her own jewel of a place. I’ll have more paintings as well as my easel in tow, painting a new canvas. Lovely people, places and art all in one spot are just one more success unexpected.