The Tramizal Diary

My blood is up!

2012-01-27T13:17:00.004+01:00

Don't really have an image to go with this grumbly post, so I thought I would show off my new couch in the Winter Palace. (I have two cottages here which I refer to as the Winter and Summer Cottages, but a friend upgraded them to Palaces, I think just a tad ironically.) Red colour incidental.

I have just discovered that as a resident, I need to get a French driving license, and as New York State does not have a reciprocal agreement with France, I have to take written and driving tests to obtain one. The Préfecture referred me to a local driving school to prepare for these tests, but when I discovered that this was going to set me back a cool 600 or so euros, I objected. Finally the lady at the Préfecture allowed that I could take the tests after just one hour of practical driving with the school as a Candidat Libre. The written Code de la Route is notoriously difficult to pass and I am dreading it, but last night the school called me up to ask me why I hadn't been by to register. When I explained to the lady that I was being allowed to take the written test as a Candidat Libre, without having to attend driving school, she snorted. "You'll never be able to pass it without us!" she declared angrily, as she saw her 600 euros slipping away...

Thank you Madame. Your sarcasm has transformed my dread into determination!

Good food, good wine, and above all, good company

2011-12-24T11:47:00.004+01:00

Lost a good friend this year after a protracted illness. She was cared for up to the end by a loving spouse who refused all invitations to go out for several years.

So missing their company, a couple of us decided to form a sort of monthly luncheon club. We discussed ahead of time who would cover which course, which we prepared before arriving at the home with its formal table setting on the terrace or dining room, depending on the season.

Sometimes confronting difficult situations straight on has its rewards. Outsiders who heard about our sorties became a little envious as our culinary efforts progressed and conversation flourished, occasionally spiced up an eminent guest we allowed entry for the day.

(A typical meal starting with a scallop timbal and followed by Bouef Bourgignon.)

Drawing- the foundation of art

2011-12-05T23:20:00.013+01:00

My mother, who painted under the sobriquet FAAF, was an excellent draftswoman. She drew the head of the man when she was an art school student. (Note the correctly positioned ear her teacher sketched in on the upper right.)

Feeling a little lost with my current drawing and painting, I tried to sketch tonight's thirteen year old model in the classical tradition, an approach foreign to me as a student. Then I began a painting, which although somewhat rough, succeeds in capturing the ambiguity of this interesting young girl not only poised somewhere between a child and adult, but also between lad and lassie. I spent about an hour each on the drawing and the painting.

I painted Zoë in oils two years ago- picture below.

Clan Destin summer workshop

2011-11-02T13:03:00.016+01:00

Last July, I was invited to a two day workshop at the Clan Destin (a play on words of course), a very 60'ish theatre/pub/art center hidden in the countryside not far from where I live.

A lovely gymnast/actress had been hired to pose for us, moving very slowly and sometimes stopping for a few minutes, inspired by different kinds of music. Some of my fast sketches were just smudges and I had to clearly define hands and fingers to explain what was happening in them. Sometimes I took visual/mental snapshots from which I worked for a couple of minutes, refraining from looking back at the model so I could record a more detailed moment in time. Every hour we stopped to look at each others drawings and the model changed her outfit.

I don't think I have ever had such concentrated creativity and came home absolutely exhausted at the end of the day. Reviewing and reflecting on my 100 or so sketches several months later, I find them not too shabby! Here's a slide show of a selection:

A Radiant Model

2011-10-25T12:42:00.009+02:00

The Monday life drawing group was in for a special treat this month. A beautiful, radiant and very pregnant model posed for us.

We were all aware of an intimate dialogue between the expectant mother and her son.

Quince jelly

2011-10-13T17:05:00.004+02:00

Out on a ramble with the dogs a few days ago, I collected some fallen quinces in an abandoned field.

To make quince jelly, just chop them up and throw them in a pot, cover with water and boil. When they are soft, mash them up a bit and strain into another pot through a colander. Add about the same amount of sugar again and heat until boiling, skimming off foam. Then bottle and you're all set for the winter. Absolutely delicious with pain perdu, or French toast, on a cold and foggy morning.

Alice Neel

2011-10-11T13:50:00.012+02:00

A fabulous documentary about the painter Alice Neel by her grandson was most inspiring the other evening. She persisted on painting portraits of people often in isolation from the rest of the art world, as it was the time of abstract expressionism in New York. She lived in dire poverty most of her life, even spending her welfare cheques on paints rather than on food for her children.

Yesterday a model from Cambodia posed for the my Monday night drawing class. Alice's influence is palpable, as well perhaps as that of South African painter Irma Stern. I am really enjoying painting in rich colours and patterns at the moment.

Milton Glaser

2011-10-06T13:57:00.005+02:00

Just over thirty years ago, I took a class with Milton Glaser called Design and Personality. It was such brilliant class that a friend of mine who wrote for The New Yorker wrote a piece about my experience for The Talk of the Town.

I recently stumbled across a film about Milton on Netflix called Milton Glaser: Inform and Delight. It blew a lot of cobwebs out of my head about art, design, social responsibility and priorities. Try to see it.

The Big Draw event in La Sirène du Causse Gallery

2011-10-02T09:58:00.010+02:00

October 1st turned out to be a beautiful Saturday here in Rignac, so I set up tables outside for the gallery's first Big Draw event.

This part of France was an ancient seabed 135,000,000 years ago and I had collected some fossils, books from the library and an assortment of coloured pencils, papers, magazines, crayons, brushes, scissors, paste and paints. The idea was to recreate a scene of the prehistoric ocean life here.

Enthusiastic artists started arriving soon after 10am to tackle the mural. We broke for a picnic lunch of bread, cheese, grapes, figs and windfall apples and continued into the afternoon. The pictures tell the story.

Life's a beach- back to Soulac-sur-Mer

2011-09-25T09:54:00.009+02:00

This year I was a little more together with my packing than last year, but I hadn’t prepared for rain so much of my time in the beginning was spent huddling in my pup tent with the big hairy wet Thabo pup reading, and cooking under an umbrella strung up under some pine trees.

But there is something about living under primitive conditions next to the sea that releases my free spirits and I have really had a great time. Perhaps I exaggerate the conditions. The campsite does have wonderful hot showers for warming up after a swim and on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic about 300 meters away is a restaurant with a terrace where I regularly bid adieu to the sun with a fancy cocktail decorated with little umbrella pierced fruit and whatnot.

The sun and weekend brought the crowds back for a last hurrah which was a bit of a drag because Thabo tends to be such a nuisance on the beach. If I swim out too far he either tries to drag me in using teeth and claws or barks hysterically and relentlessly. For awhile I try to feign innocence but soon everyone catches on that I am responsible for the beast, and reluctantly have to push off.

I recognized a lovely Dutch couple who were my neighbours last summer, and was able to light my stove with their flame throwing gadget. French alumettes were useless in the damp. This evening my corkscrew broke and I was about to go over to borrow theirs when I remembered a trick about banging the bottom of the bottle with the heel of a shoe to dislodge the cork. It works.

A circle of beads

2011-09-24T23:41:00.004+02:00

On September 3, 2010, I posted a bitter wail about a necklace of old blue beads I had bought in Nairobi that had disappeared.

Last week while brushing my teeth, I suddenly spied the necklace on the bathroom window sill behind some stuffed animals.

I don't think I will ever know where they were all this time but I am very pleased that they found their way home. Sometimes these little mysteries just need to remain unsolved, especially if they have happy endings.

Workshop with Françoise Utrel

2011-09-22T17:00:00.011+02:00

Last week I attended a one day workshop with the artist Françoise Utrel. The idea was to bring in some work and discuss where and how we wanted to progress with it. Having spent my life as professional illustrator, I have struggled to create paintings with personal originality and depth. I always seem to skim along the surface.

The lunch alone that Michel, Françoise's huband, prepared was worth the price of admission. No messing about with stale sandwiches and a flask of coffee in this establishment.

I first showed Françoise some illustrative work, then some life drawings, where I think my strength lies. She suggested that I choose one drawing and repeat it to create a series. Here is the drawing and subsequent explorations. Françoise vigilantly kept watch, stopping me from over-defining any part. I found putting myself into someone else's hand for a day productive and rewarding and intend continuing the series.

Imagining a prehistoric sea

2011-09-21T13:40:00.009+02:00

I happened to be in London last year in October, the month of The Big Draw, a national festival to encourage everyone to start drawing launched by The Campaign for Drawing. I determined to participate this year so my gallery is having a painting day for children of all ages on October 1st, between 10 am and 4 pm.

The theme is to paint the sea that covered this area 135 million years ago. I will supply fossils, images and materials.

Please swing by if you can.

François

2011-08-15T15:27:00.004+02:00

Another of my favourite South African painters: François Krige.

Some of my favourite South African painters

2011-08-10T17:10:00.002+02:00

They are Eleanor Esmond-White, Frans Claerhout, Alexander Rose Innes, and Irma Stern

The lovely Helena

2011-07-19T10:35:00.005+02:00

The painting class felt confident enough to tackle a watercolour portrait of my lovely assistant on the last day. Here is my demonstration.

A three quarter portrait is the most interesting one. The challenge is to get the head and face to "turn" to look three dimensional and not like a stylized flat Egyptian painting, so one eye must be properly tucked behind the nose. The level positioning of the eyes is very important. One eye often tends to migrate onto another level.

I had to rework this picture to correct the eyes. One of the advantages of stretching paper is that you can wash off some of the painting and rework it when the paper dries.

"I've encouraged both myself and others to experience the joy of drawing. It may be separate from painting, but it is certainly key to much that is great in painting. To find a line, to make it work, to really see it and know it holds life and energy or is pregnant with feeling, is to experience a kind of excitement that even sensitive observers cannot truly know." Robert Genn

Into the field

2011-07-17T13:57:00.007+02:00

In the second week of the painting class, we packed up paints and brushes and moved into the field. This summer we painted Rocamadour perched on rocky falaises, the market in Gramat, the Dordogne river (where we picniced...and some sk--ny dipped...) and ended up celebrating the end of the class lunching in Saint Cirq-Lapopie after visiting the 25,000 year old paintings in the caves of Pech Merle.

I hope to add more photos of student work- please email your photographs everyone.

The Fête!

2011-07-14T00:47:00.007+02:00

The Rignac Fête fell on the Saturday between week one and two of the watercolour workshop this summer. A dance floor and tables were set up on the place in front of our proudly restored twelfth century church, St Germain.

Things started out formally and sedately enough at first...

Then the watercolour contingent arrived with friends and the pace quickened fast, especially once our Australian stagière showed the locals a thing or two about dancing.

Today is Bastille Day, le Quatorze Juillet. Brace yourselves Gramat, tonight the watercolourists hit your streets...

Cezanne day

2011-07-09T18:11:00.008+02:00

Here is a small sampling of the luscious pears and more from the fourth day of my July watercolour workshop. I am very proud of the group's fabulous work. Next week we move into the field to paint markets, towns, and landscapes.

Most everyone chose the fruit composition, but one brave soul successfully tackled the cabbage.

The Rignac Fête

2011-07-05T17:11:00.002+02:00

Hooray, there will be a fête again this year in Rignac, after a pause of several years. A group from the committee de fête were around to serenade us on Saturday and remind us to book our tables in the village square for the repas champêtre and dance this weekend.

Exhibition at the Chateau in Lacapelle-Marival

2011-06-27T11:28:00.007+02:00

For the second year, I have been invited to participate in the summer exhibition at the Chateau in Lacapelle-Marival which opens at 5:30 on Thursday evening. The exhibition is curated by Jacques Rival who has done an excellent job since he took over a few years ago. I dropped off my paintings yesterday and was very impressed by the work I briefly saw. Some of the other artists taking part are Jean-Pierre Rodrigo Subirana, Thierry Carrier, and Jörg Hermle (example shown) and I feel pretty honoured to have been included in the show.

There is also an "artist's market". The maximum price is 150 euros, so you can pick up some some really fabulous sketches and smaller works by these artists there.

The exhibition will be open the whole of July and August between 10:30 and 12:30 am and 3 and 6:30 pm.

Done with the blues

2011-06-15T01:53:00.004+02:00

Hey hey! Through persistence and diligence I have managed to track down my iPod! Dropped it in the plane and some kind soul picked it up and turned it in to Lost&Found at the airport.

Kittens have found a home- together. Yeay.

And my fab buddies cleaned up SIX Tony's at the Beacon Theatre!.

Landing home with a thump

2011-06-13T17:36:00.003+02:00

Got home to Rignac to find these little critters in my laundry basket. Someone obviously had dumped them in my garden, knowing that I wouldn't toss them into the gutter. I have found a home for one but if anyone in the vicinity would like a kitten please let me know. They are extremely friendly and sweet and playful. I already have three cats and a dog.

The next thing was realising that somewhere between Stansted and Rignac, I lost my iPod. Can't imagine when or where it was taken or I dropped it.

And then this morning, cottage tenants who had booked for two weeks left abruptly without paying. Had to rush off to hospital due to cat allergies they said!

Trouble comes in threes, so let's hope this is it for awhile.

The Three Bears and more...

2011-06-11T18:37:00.004+02:00

I was to arrive in England the day after the Edward Ardizzone show closed at the Illustrator's Cupboard Gallery in London. He and Ernest Shepard have to be my favourite illustrators and I was bitterly disappointed. However when I emailed the gallery, I was told that they would be happy to pull out some pieces to show me if I stopped in. I arrived on my last morning to find that the gallery only opened in the afternoon on Saturdays, but just as I was about to trudge off dejectedly, a young woman arrived and inserted her key in the door. She welcomed me in and pulled out all the pieces. What a treat to be able to pour over the pen and line work, and see where and when Ardizzone had reworked a small part of a picture. Sigh, if only I had a spare thousand pounds or two I would have gladly exchanged them for one of these exquisite little treasures.

A bit of Peter Rabbit country for 29 euros RT!

2011-06-10T17:56:00.014+02:00

One of the great things about living in Rignac is being a 29 euro RT flight from London, so I pop over once or twice a year for some bright lights. Though this time I was collected at Stansted and whisked off for a few days in Suffolk for a bit of a seaside holiday: lots of long beautiful walks along the coastline and saltwater estuaries, fishcakes and ale in village pubs and scones with clotted cream in teashops, a visit to Orford Castle and another to the small museum about Dunwich, once the second largest port in England which has over the centuries collapsed into the North Sea. On the way back to London we explored Constable country on footpaths and country lanes. This is the England I learned about as a small child in books about Winnie-the-Poo and Mrs. TIggywinkle...

PS Can anyone explain what a "permissive footpath" is please?

Entre Corps et Âme

2011-05-27T00:55:00.002+02:00

Daniel Wattier, Rignac's mayor and member of our Monday evening life drawing group made this preview of our exhibition which opens tomorrow in La Sirène de Causse gallery.

"Remembrance of Things Past"

2011-05-22T13:19:00.011+02:00

An old friend from the Upper East Side on Manhattan is about to come out with the third volumn of her tongue-in-cheek cookbook, written by her alter ego Parsley. She asked me to contribute a naked sketch of Parsley and one of her lovers. I battled with this commission for awhile, and finally made a composite of some life drawings in my studio.

Totally off key! was the response. Parsley is a size 3, not 18. She is young, trendy and sexy. Her lover is black.

Oops. I realise I have completely fallen of the Style Ladder here in rural France where I spend my day weeding the garden in a frumpy paint splattered tee shirt, doing the NY Times crossword puzzle on the Internet, and searching through piles of rubbish to find small treasures in village vide greniers, or garage sales. I can't even imagine let alone remember my misspent youth as a young zizzy UES girl anymore.

This is bad. I am changing my clothes, gulping down a shot of (albeit non-Starbucks) expresso, gritting my teeth and picking up my pen to recommence...

OK. Here is the second attempt and the author likes it. Not exactly a skinny Parsley, but definitely more funky (as opposed to frumpy.)

Flying

2011-05-17T16:24:00.008+02:00

Instead of sketching with a pencil, I have churned out two, five, ten, fifteen minute and one hour paintings in the Monday
evening drawing session recently. I paint so fast that I have a quite breathless sensation of flying at times. In spite of the solid form of the model, I think the paintings convey this aerial weightlessness.

Nothing like good neighbours :-)

2011-05-13T18:42:00.005+02:00

About a year ago, a young Belgian couple opened up a home made ice cream concession stand on the road to Rocamadour. A little while later, a long abandoned farmhouse on the intersection was bought by another young English couple and turned into a chambres d'hote, La Noyeraie. They also offer cream teas with fresh scones if requested in advance. At the same corner, Le Mas de Douze restaurant has recently been taken over by a delightful new French couple who have made their pool available to diners and even my house guests who want to spend an afternoon there cooling off.

I bicycled over the other day to introduce myself and invited everyone to dinner. I forgot that friends from New York who are restoring a house nearby were arriving the same day, and then suddenly my friend Lyle invited another couple, annual clients at his boutique who spend a week every summer visiting the local monkey park.

It was a gorgeous balmy summer evening and the garden filled quickly with not only the guests but their small children and dogs. Everyone brought sparkling white and red Cahors wine, vin de pêche, cabecou goat cheeses, tubs of artisanal ice cream and sorbet, and Belgian chocolates and even a New York cheesecake. Somehow I managed to serve everyone small grilled quiches and salads, magret with raspberry/cream/shallot sauce, sautéed new potatoes, and vegetables, and fresh minty chocolate mousse and strawberries. What with all the contributions from guests, it was quite a feast.

I unfortunately didn't take any photographs of the candle lit garden dinner, so can only post a photograph of my laundered table linens as evidence of our lovely evening.

The group paints itself

2011-05-10T15:44:00.002+02:00

Yesterday afternoon the model called to cancel. She had a bad back and was in terrible pain. I called around but couldn't find a replacement, so when the group pitched up, I suggested we all paint each other painting each other.

Sometimes I think it looks like different artists painted my pictures.

Sophie is the mother of Marie-Camille, who sat for us two weeks ago. Daniel is our village mayor who needs to reissue my carte de sejour this week... Hope I get it!

Between Body and Soul: the 2011 Spring Exhibition

2011-05-05T09:19:00.011+02:00

After interminable computer and software problems, I managed somehow to put together a poster/invitation to the Monday night drawing group's exhibition and opening on May 27th using Illustrator and then converting the PDF into an uploadable JPG file. Very exasperating and the quality and colours changed in the process. Give me old smelly oil paint and turps any day.

The poster obviously is inspired by a paper cut by the great master Matisse. It is about impossible to incorporate examples of everyone's varied styles into a strong poster design.

Summer somnambulist

2011-04-29T23:45:00.004+02:00

Here's my winter cottage, sporting spring greens, lanterns of white wisteria flowers, and a freshly planted pot of geraniums.

I have three buildings- the winter cottage, summer cottage, and a barn. My first summer here, I would start the night in the winter cottage and after a few hours, move to the summer cottage. I inevitably woke up on a mattress in the barn, accessed by an old wobbly ladder. I think I just loved all three buildings so much I was trying to be in them all at once.

Marie-Camille

2011-04-26T14:19:00.009+02:00

Last night's model was the lovely Marie-Camille who left our village to study theatre design in Paris. She was home for the Easter holidays.

Although I had stretched a large sheet of watercolour paper, I still ran out of room for her hands. Not sure whether to tape on another piece of paper on the bottom to complete the picture from the photograph or just leave it as is.

After working as a professional portraitst for many years, I am relishing the freedom of painting people without having to worry about client approval. I think it's resulting in much better work.

Poissons dans le Fôret de Rignac

2011-04-25T12:51:00.006+02:00

About fifteen years ago, I bought a tree to plant in front of my barn on communal land. The village cantonnier planted it in winter while I was away, in the wrong spot! After I had a hissy fit, they allowed me to plant another one in the right spot, and the two are colloquially referred to as Le Fôret de Rignac.

People have long been complaining that they can't find my gallery, La Sirène du Causse (translates roughly to The Mermaid of the Ancient Seabed. We have fossils everwhere in the sandstone rock.) So with the help of Ron and his jigsaw, I have now hung painted fish in Le Fôret's trees where they are twirling happily in the breeze: sort of rural French 17th century strobe lighting.

In addition to catching the eye of passers by, they will hopefully prevent the myriad of shade seeking cars from cluttering up the forest.

Manifestation (and feast too)

2011-04-23T14:22:00.002+02:00

Ron and I went down to the big protest in Cahors on Sunday against the proposed fracking of natural gas in our beautiful area of France. Fillon, the president, has momentarily canceled all contracts for the immensely damaging extraction which took some of the wind out of our sails, though I'm not complaining. I was surprised to find a good percentage of the demonstrators English!

We went early, thinking the traffic might be terrible, and discovered a fabulous small restaurant, Le Bergougnoux in the center of town where for 15 euros we had a magnificent meal: Coquilles St Jacques, noisette d'agneau and chocolate hazelnut cake with strawberries.

So we returned home with replete spirits and tummies...

Eye to hand

2011-04-11T14:24:00.003+02:00

My most original and best work results from when my eye and hand liaise directly without the interference of the brain. That's when magic happens. That's why I am trying to get further away from illustration, when my brain is in hyperactivity, and to just paint.

I love the ear in this quick sketch!

Odalisque

2011-04-10T11:53:00.003+02:00

I used to call my life drawings "boudoir haiku" because they were usually very simple line drawings with light watercolour washes. But mixing white into the colours has enriched my palate so I am calling the current series of sketches "odalisques", in reference to the 19th century school of painting Orientalism.

The Monday night drawing group will be having our annual show on Friday, May 27th. If you are in vicinity, please mark that date into your calendar. So far it has always fallen on a beautiful early summer evening and turned into something of a party.

Too much ash!

2011-04-09T15:54:00.002+02:00

Last year the only produce that thrived in my vegetable patch were pumpkins- masses of pumpkins.

This year a bit of research into soil revealed that I have been destroying my compost by mixing in way too much wood ash which makes the soil very alkaline. Ash is a good natural deterrent to slugs and snails so I also spread the ash all around the edges my potagé. I heat my barn with a wood stove and have masses of wood ash.

So now for days I have been digging up old compost heaps and working it into the soil, along with fresh grass clippings to try and get more nitrates into the earth.

Nightingales

2011-04-08T13:19:00.004+02:00

Spring began in the beginning of February this year, and summer started in the beginning of April. The temperature has been in the 80's for the past two weeks and we have begun to have dinner outdoors already.

Last night, at about 11, I heard the nightingales for the first time. Such lonely and forlorn trills and quavers...

Sushi

2011-03-29T15:36:00.003+02:00

My cat Sushi usually saunters into the studio half way through the Monday night drawing evening, and settles down near the model (and wood stove) so he appears in a few of my drawings.

I had to snap him this morning, posing with one of the drawings.

Roger

2011-03-22T14:13:00.005+01:00

My friend Roger posed for the Monday drawing group last night. I got quite a nice painting out of the evening, though I am not sure how good a likeness it is.

One thing I tend to do, and am criticized for, is cutting off the top of the head. Sometimes it makes a more interesting composition.

Muses and magic

2011-03-13T03:42:00.005+01:00

My mother, Frances Stock, was a painter. Soon after I finished my studies yet didn't quite know how I would proceed with my life, my mother commissioned me to paint the family portraits. I started with a painting of her.

The painting progressed well at first, but I was struggling with an overworked mucky face. One evening I came into the room to find my mother working on her portrait! I was livid. At about 4am I stormed back into the bedroom where the painting was set up on an easel and my mother was sleeping and flipped on the lights. I squeezed out a smear of white paint and blotted out the head, flipped off the lights and stormed out.

The following morning, I sketched in the head and face in about half an hour and after signing the painting, put down my brushes.

I have tried to work myself into a similar froth on subsequent occasions when a painting wasn't working but the magic didn't work on command.

Now, working on the illustrations for the Emily Dickinson biography, I find that I can't start work before nightfall. The book is demanding its own quiet time. Sometimes, as now, I have scrubbed off all the work I have done on it, redrawn in the figure sitting at her small desk, and seen it come together almost on its own.

Large ladies

2011-03-09T16:03:00.002+01:00

When I was an art student, I was mocked for my fascination with painting large ladies.

But now that I can paint what I want, hey, I paint what I want!

Ron

2011-03-01T01:25:00.005+01:00

I promised my friend Ron a portrait two years ago for Christmas. He hated the result. Tonight he posed for my group and I came up with this picture. Something is wrong with it but I can't quite figure it out. The head is just not working with the body.

ZzzzzzZzzzzzzzzZzzzzzzzZzzzzzzzz...

2011-02-24T15:40:00.005+01:00

So how's a gal supposed to meet a deadline with all this bloody sawing going on in my studio?

The pleasure and pain of Emily

2011-02-22T21:41:00.002+01:00

Two attempts at the same spread. First didn't have good tonal contrast and definition, but the second one seems a little stiff in comparison. This is not an easy project.

The three elements of a portrait

2011-02-21T21:56:00.007+01:00

There are three attributes to a successful portrait:

Good likeness of the sitter
Original and personal interpretation by the artist
And finally and most importantly, the painting has to work as a good painting, irrespective of whether or not the viewer knows the subject.

Tonight we had a model for one long pose. I did a careful drawing and started washing in colour and then it was time for our pause. Sipping a cup of tea, a newspaper clipping of a Modigliani hanging on the wall caught my eye.

The wonderful simplicity inspired me to scrub off the paint and quickly sketch in this painting.

Emily&Carlo

2011-02-16T18:32:00.003+01:00

the Dog is the noblest work of Art...
his mistress's rights he doth defend-

She called him her Shaggy Ally.

Return to the Moulin de St.Martin

2011-02-04T14:32:00.004+01:00

Last month we were back in the Moulin de St. Martin in Crècy-la-Chapelle. We were there for the Maison&Objets salon in Paris. The old mill is on its own small island in the Grand Morin river and only has two guest rooms. Our hosts, Agnès and Bernard are wonderful. Bernard is very proud of his homemade jams and marmalade.

Only wish we could experience the Moulin in summer.

Mmmnnnn...Louisiana gumbo!

2011-01-30T16:48:00.012+01:00

The New Orleans writer and poet Sheryl St.Germain is spending her sabbatical in my winter cottage. The other night we were all treated to a traditional gumbo, complete with shrimp, chicken, spicy sausage, and lobster claws. Wow- was it delicious! Sheryl gave me two of her books- The Making of an Unruly Woman and Let It Be a Dark Roux. More rich and spicy nourishment.

I spent six years in New Orleans as a kid, but I was too young to appreciate the city and its cuisine. My 40th (!) class reunion is coming up in April this year. Time for a return visit to the Crescent City, and some more gumbo...

Five years

2011-01-30T14:26:00.003+01:00

The fifth anniversary of my move to France is coming up. I have just been attending to the flowers in my barn studio. A little olive tree, a bonsai, baskets of daffodils and an amaryllis bask in the late afternoon winter sun. Do I miss New York? Not at all. I am becoming quite proficient at turning lemons into lemonade. I guess that's one good thing about growing up. For those of you who never saw this, here is my rant to The New York Times. It was published in full, save for the best line: "Tonight the developers celebrated their erection with a champagne popping party."

LETTERS

An Artist's Lament for Air and Light

Published: February 27, 2005

o the Editor:

Twelve years ago, I gave up my sunny rent-stabilized apartment on East 88th Street, across the street from the Guggenheim Museum, to buy a one-bedroom co-op on 96th Street with a small pile of hard-earned shekels. It seemed like a wise thing to do at the time.

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The new apartment, unique in the building, was the back half of a much larger subdivided one, consisting of the small maid's room and bathroom, the kitchen and the dining room. Unlike the other apartments, with views that faced north or south, all my windows looked east over the roofs of a small row of shops and onto trees on Madison Avenue.

With the help of an Abstract Expressionist/carpenter friend from Maine, I set about breaking down old closets and walls and transforming my space into a small galley kitchen, a sleeping loft, plenty of storage space, a comfortable living area and a painting studio.

Blissfully happy in my new home, I have done some of my best work here. My last picture book, "A Spree in Paree," was named one of the 10 best children's books of 2004 by Time magazine.

Last summer, the small row of stores in front of my windows was torn down.

Gone were the shiny pyramids of green, yellow and red peppers in front of the greengrocer; the bright bouquets of peonies and lilies in the flower shop; the piles of peeled pink shrimp in the Japanese sushi shop; the sparkling diamante earrings in the watchmaker's window; the glittery shawls and faux furs in the Chinese dress shop; and the noisy schoolkids clamoring for bagels in the corner bakery at midday.

I sat in my bright apartment gazing out over the open space at the trees, leaves trembling in the autumn wind.

Just before Christmas, the trees on Madison Avenue were hacked up and heaved into Dumpsters. As suddenly as the shops disappeared, a hideous concrete frame soared into the sky, a few feet from my windows. In a matter of weeks, I had lost not only the trees and my view, but all my natural light.

I see my reflection in the glass of my windows. Behind the glass is a dark square, like a school blackboard. "Can't you paint a cheery picture on it," my aunt suggests over the telephone from her beachfront home in South Carolina.

Some of my neighbors in the lobby rubbed their hands in glee, mentally calculating how much their own apartments will be enhanced by this fancy new interloper.

My lovely sunny studio has become a dungeon, my living room a bunker, unfit for human habitation let alone an artist's atelier. My board is unsympathetic. They shrug, amiably: how were they to know that our air rights had expired in 1948?

Prospective buyers stream in and out of my apartment, some without stopping or uttering a word.

So here I sit, like J. R. R. Tolkien's Gollum in his dank cavern, alternating between dark depression and bristling resentment, until I finally give up, pack up my brushes and follow the little storekeepers to the outer boroughs.

I would like to think that this Manhattan neighborhood will miss its children's book illustrator along with the Korean greengrocer, the Chinese dress shop ladies, the Japanese sushi chef, the Jewish watchmaker, the Afro-American flower seller and the yuppie bagel baker. But the people sitting in the bright new cookie cutter stores across the street, contentedly munching Dunkin' Donuts and sipping Starbucks coffee, probably won't even notice we've gone.

Catherine Stock

Manhattan

Soirée de dessin- winter dinner

2011-01-19T17:53:00.004+01:00

Not only has our Monday night drawing group survived into its third year, it's actually growing. Here are the regulars, though flu prevented Nicole and Christiane from joining our meal of foie gras, wild boar paté, jambalaya ( a New Orleans style paella), salad and cheeses, and lemon and rubarb tarts. Drawing makes you hungry after all.

Downed by the flu

2011-01-14T18:02:00.002+01:00

Struck down by the flu for two weeks, I have been confined to my bed by my two concerned male friends who have taken on the cooking and cleaning. Well, scratch the latter.

This morning I ventured downstairs to confront the kitchen...

The painting is a study of another friend, Sylvain,
who posed last Monday. The painting is actually superimposed on another piece that I pulled out of the rubbish.

New Year thoughts

2011-01-01T20:24:00.004+01:00

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come." (Joseph Campbell)

Not quite sure what that means, but it sounds really good. I am interpreting it to mean- Stop painting to make money (eg doing stuff that you know will sell) and just see what happens when you have a pencil and paints at hand, good music playing, and perhaps a glass of wine. Sounds like a good start to the New Year.

Peace and Joy

2010-12-18T23:24:00.003+01:00

Blistering cold in Rignac, but as long as I press rolled towels at the bottom of the door to keep out draughts and the woodstove chock-a-block, the barn is pretty toasty.

Ventured out for an art exhibition on the causse.

But now am home, fat and sleepy and bearsnug under the quilts. Cats on the pillows and dogs on my feet. We're staying hidden until spring.

Hands and feet

2010-12-16T17:29:00.003+01:00

I don't really do any teaching in the Monday evening drawing class unless someone asks me to review their work. But one thing I mentioned last week was that the ends of arms and legs need to be resolved in well observed and drawn hands and feet.

Fête de truffes

2010-12-14T10:09:00.007+01:00

As if there weren't enough feasts at this time of the year... My good friend Elisabeth invited me to the Truffle Festival in Cuzance on Saturday. We spent the whole afternoon contending with

• Toast with truffle butter and champagne
• Velouté with truffles
• Foie Gras with truffles and Sauterne
• Omelette with truffles in a millefeuilles pastry shell
• Duck breast with truffled mashed potatoes and Cahors wine
• Cabecou and salad
• Petit Fours and coffee

Oink oink...or rather groin groin...

Hooo-haaaaaa!

2010-12-06T11:29:00.002+01:00

Was rousted from bed this morning by a phone call from someone in St Céré. She has my new pants that I threw by mistake into the garbage three weeks ago!

Sheesh. Not sure that I want them back... but I need to take her some flowers to thank her.

Neoteny

2010-11-30T13:19:00.011+01:00

I came across an interesting word recently: neoteny. The dictionary defines it as "the retention of juvenile features in the adult animal." It struck a chord as throughout my adult life, I seem to have irritated and subsequently been dismissed by some serious acquaintances for my playful disposition.

But according to Stuart Brown in his Ted Talk, playfulness is not only important in creation, but can be vital for survival.

In my experience, intellectual and artistic posturing often is deployed to cover up derivative and mediocre thinking. True creativity and thought requires fresh and honest endeavour.

"It takes a very long time to become young." –– Picasso

"The rich and the idlers seek the new, the extraordinary, the extravagant and the scandalous. I have contented these people with all the many bizarre things that come into my head. The less they understand, the more they admire it. By amusing myself with all these games, all this nonsense, all these picture puzzles, I became famous. I am only a public entertainer who has understood his time." ––Picasso

Emily and Carlo Sketches

2010-11-19T22:45:00.003+01:00

I started Early - Took my Dog -
And visited the Sea -
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me -

I believe the expression is...

2010-11-17T15:50:00.004+01:00

TOO STUPID TO LIVE!

I went to St Céré to buy a couple of pairs of winter corduroy pants in the market. Then I took the mushrooms that I had collected the previous day to a pharmacy to see if they were edible. The pharmacist said that they wouldn't kill me, but that they weren't particularly good to eat, so I dropped them in the rubbish bin on my way to lunch at the Lieu Commun.

When I arrived, my packet of mushrooms was still in my basket. I had thrown my new pairs of pants into the locked trash can. After lunch, with blushing cheeks, I explained to the women at the Mairie that I had mixed up my packages and asked if I could somehow retrieve my bag of pants. But the bin is a pretty sophisticated contraption that looks a bit like US Mailbox: everything drops down into a three meter deep waste container underground. Nevertheless two big strapping men came to see if we could fish out my plastic bag. Suddenly we were surrounded by twenty town inspectors showing off their new disposal system and wanting to know what we were doing. And I had to explain to them all what I had done...

Next time, and unfortunately there will probably be a next time, I will be content to just lose the pants, and save some face. (The flowers are just to make me feel better.)

Evening Walk

2010-11-15T18:02:00.005+01:00

My dizziness is finally dissipating and I have been going for long afternoon walks with Thabo using my two walking sticks to stabilise me. I am not quite ready to return to Gym Tonique. The poles come in handy when tramping across uneven slushy fields. Temperature is in the 60's, which is great, except we have suddenly been inundated with flies as all their natural predators like lizards and bats have gone to sleep for the winter.

Found this circle of large mushrooms which I carefully picked and brought home. Will take them to the pharmacy tomorrow to see if they are edible.

Vertigo

2010-11-11T12:14:00.002+01:00

A few evenings ago, I got up from my bed and the room swirled around me so violently that I had to grab a chair to prevent myself from falling over. The next morning and following few days showed no improvement, so I asked a friend to drive me to the doctor.

After taking my blood pressure, the doctor held my head in his hands and performed a few brusque manoevres, pushing me onto the bed on the right, lifting me upright, then throwing me to the left, pausing to peer intently into my eyes between moves. He then sent me home and said that I was OK, but that if the effects continued another few days that he would send me to an ear/nose/throat specialist.

Mystified I came home and did some research on the Internet. I had Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (BPPV), an inner ear disorder caused by calcium crystals, or ear rocks, floating into areas that interfere with one's sense of equilibrium. YouTube had some short videos on the Epley Manoevre, which should set me right after a few days. Whew.

Keep this mind if you have this experience. It's not necessarily the dreaded brain t–––r.

Instinct vs fiddling

2010-11-05T13:58:00.012+01:00

My pictures are pegged on washing lines in my studio. One of these pictures were reworked and three are untouched. When I enter the room, the fresh ones are striking, the reworked one has turned into sentimental mush. Sometimes one needs to overwork and destroy to learn.

" The artist need not know very much; best of all let him work instinctively and paint as naturally as he breathes or walks. " – Emil Nolde

(The last one is a fiddly effete one, in case it isn't obvious.)

Line by Line

2010-10-30T12:56:00.004+02:00

I have just discovered this wonderful drawing series on The New York Times website. Do check it out.

LINE BY LINE

A series on learning the basics of drawing, presented by the artist and author James McMullan. Line By Line begins with installments on line, perspective, proportion and structure, and continues from there, using examples from art history to illuminate specific issues. Pencil and paper recommended.

Mirror Man

2010-10-30T12:04:00.003+02:00

This is not a sculpture.

It's the artist Gustav Troger, who seems to wander around the world inside his glass suit.

The Big Draw

2010-10-17T15:46:00.014+02:00

While in London last week, I discovered that October is the month of The Big Draw, promoted by the Campaign for Drawing. All the museums were taking part with cool workshops. My friend Adrian and I attended one at the National Gallery on chiaroscuro. Paintings of Caravaggio, like the one at left, were projected onto a screen as the moderator explained the term: dramatic strong contrast between light and shade. Then two models appeared, appropriately dressed, and took up positions at a table with a glass of wine and grapes, imitating the painting projected behind them, and posed for 45 minutes, lighted by a bright spot, while we sketched them in pencil or charcoal. My sketch is below.
Later that day I went to two more workshops at the National Portrait Gallery and spent Saturday with my friend Jude at the British Museum. One of the workshops there involved drawing real artifacts that we could handle, examine and draw in the way that archeologists document them. We also attended an interview by Alaisdair Sooke with of one of Picasso's models, Sylvette David.

Have a look at the Big Draw website. I have registered La Sirène du Causse's Monday night life drawing group and yesterday received a package about how to set up an event. Will have to do that next October.

First the Chilean mineworkers...

2010-10-15T12:08:00.002+02:00

and now the Pipster!

Journalist and neighbour Ron always leaves his tubby and ancient little mutt Pipi with me when he goes off on a shoot, this time in Ghana. She's the light of his life.

On Wednesday evening, she disappeared without trace. I searched the village, put up posters, and notified the gendarmerie.

This morning my marvelous beast Thabo started barking at 5am and wouldn't stop. I finally went down to investigate the commotion and heard high pitched barking from a neighbouring field. At the bottom of a shallow well, shivering in the dark was one terrifed and very smelly little Pipster.

Hallelujah may the Lord be Praised!

Life drawing resumes

2010-09-29T18:29:00.004+02:00

The Monday evening life drawing group has started up again after a summer break.

Often at the end of the evening, I am unhappy with everything I have done and toss it all into the fire, but I try to restrain myself because sometimes after a few days (and some distance from actually observing and trying to draw the model), a drawing or painting just takes on an independent life, and dare I say... charm...

Moulin de Cougnaguet

2010-09-27T11:38:00.005+02:00

The weather was a bit iffy so I was worried about where the class could paint in case of a downpour, and then suddenly in the middle of the night I thought of the Moulin de Cougnaguet, a fortified mill on the l'Ouysse river, built in the fourteenth century by Cistercian monks. It milled flour commercially until 1959, and it is still fully functioning. You can see the interior here .

The weather cleared as the day passed, so we were able to enjoy a lovely picnic on the island, enhanced by generous servings of prune, the local firewater made from plums, dolled out by the guardian.

My painting is below.
Just before we packed up to leave, one member of the group noticed the reflection of the mill in the water. It would have made an interesting composition, if we had remembered to bring our waders.

Pumpkins!

2010-09-27T00:54:00.004+02:00

Last year it was tomatoes, this year I have nothing but pumpkins in my vegetable patch- about forty of the little suckers. Some are too heavy to heave into my wheelbarrow. They make delicious soup however if you braise chunks in olive oil, butter, onions, garlic, sweet curry powder and fresh ginger. When tender add chicken stock and season and blend with one of those contraptions you stick in the pot. Garnish with a dash of cream and some freshly chopped chives. Delicious (though I don't think I will be able to swallow another spoonful this season...sigh.)

Cannibals?

2010-09-24T13:42:00.005+02:00

I always feel a little guilty when I eat the subject of a painting.

This is a still life I set up for my watercolour painting class two weeks ago. I chose the eggplant for the tonal contrast, the pumpkin because of the interesting seed pattern and warm colour, and the radishes because of their red-white colour gradation and also their long white tails are a good example of when to use drawing gum.

My finished demonstration is below.

The next day we started lunch with radishes eaten with butter and sea salt (the French way), and ginger-pumpkin soup.

Great week

2010-09-11T11:55:00.009+02:00

Enthusiastic and interesting watercolour students from three continents, fresh local produce at meals, good weather = a great workshop.

One of the best things about my workshop is just the opportunity for people to meet and converse with each other. This was a particularly successful group and a good time was had by all, especially me.

Next week, everyone having mastered the watercolour technique... we eschew the barn/studio to work en plein air.

Karma?

2010-09-03T23:51:00.007+02:00

A couple of weeks ago, I looked for a favourite necklace of old large blue glass trade beads strung either side of an antique silver Arabian amulet. It was an indulgent purchase acquired in Nairobi, where I had just spent a week teaching at the International School

Then last week I hunted high and low for my GPS system before setting off for a few days camping on the beach.

When I got home, irritated by my untidy habits which I deemed responsible, I decided to do a thorough spring clean. I didn't expect to find the GPS system which I am pretty sure was knicked out of my car which I never lock, but I did expect to find the necklace.

Twelve years ago, I was expelled from class after my yoga teacher couldn't find some jewelry in her apartment, the class venue. At first I was devastated, but after a few sleeplesss nights, became enraged by the teacher's certainty that I was the culprit. I wrote her a dramatic note claiming that she had accused, tried and convicted an innocent person who had no recourse to prove her innocence, and that the experience had served to confirm my abhorrence of the death penalty! She eventually found the missing pieces and apologised.

I think I know who took my necklace and it's my turn to feel violated by a stranger that I briefly housed. I am forcing myself to remember that I might be wrong, that I might suddenly open a drawer looking for a hankerchief and see it curled amongst rolled up leg warmers. But somehow life isn't quite that neat.

Not sure what the lesson is here, if there is one. Attachment? Bourgeois pettiness? Naivité? Who knows. You just gotta roll with the punches and move on sometimes.

Francesca Woodman

2010-09-02T12:05:00.003+02:00

To see more of her hauntingly beautiful imagery, go here.

I might as well stay in bed...

2010-09-01T10:37:00.002+02:00

Soulac-sur-Mer

2010-08-29T22:26:00.008+02:00

Woke up at seven this morning and cycled into Soulac-sur-Mer. It was market day. There was a wonderful selection of fresh fish and shellfish, the specialty of course being local oysters. (Apparently the "R" rule no longer holds sway in July and August.) Then I visited the the lovely little church that was dug out of a sand dune a hundred years or so ago, downed a kir, and wobbled home on my bicycle and collapsed into the hammock.

Spent this afternoon swimming, in spite of Thabo's constantly trying to drag me out of the waves and onto the safety of the beach. And trying to capture the shimmering late August afternoon sea in watercolour.

Camping à la Catherine

2010-08-28T17:49:00.009+02:00

• Unfortunately, my car needed a new fuel pump.
• Fortunately, my wonderful mechanic Lalo was able to fix things temporarily with a screwdriver.

• Unfortunately, someone seems to have knicked the GPS out of my car.

• Fortunately, friend Ronnie lent me his navigation system.

• Unfortunately, my car doesn’t have a cigarette lighter and the GPS ran out of juice just as we got to Bordeaux, the tricky bit of the journey.

• Fortunately, we got here anyway and I was able to pitch my tent just before dark in a quiet spot in the pine forest and Thabo and I were able to take a lovely walk on the beach.

• Unfortunately, the batteries in my lamp were dead.

• Fortunately, my cell phone has a flashlight.

• Unfortunately, I forgot a camp chair and table, air mattress, pillow and bog roll.

• Fortunately, I brought a hammock.

• Unfortunately I didn’t have any rope. And a rock band started up in a disco on the other side of the trees soon after dark.

• Fortunately I did remember to bring fresh white peaches for breakfast, coffee, a coffee press AND a kettle!

• Unfortunately, I forgot a mug…and so it goes.

Nevertheless, as you can see from the picture, it's GORGEOUS here and Thabo and I are having a blast!

A good day

2010-08-13T19:54:00.006+02:00

Well, today I Fedexed off the illustrations for After the Kill to the States and finished the portrait of a young friend.

There comes a point when you just have to put down the brush, wrap everything up in brown paper and string and dust off your hands.

Whether it's been a good day or not is up to posterity, as they say.

August 10

2010-08-11T12:28:00.002+02:00

I think I could be justly accused of cherry-picking when it comes to religion.

Yesterday was the eleventh anniversary of my father's death. Every year at midnight on the eve of August 10, I light a candle, a Yahrzeit candle, that burns for 24 hours, so each time I pass through the room the next day I think of my father.

The flame is an appropriate metaphor. It radiates heat and light and is eventually extinguished, yet is not really alive. Like a memory.

Beach critter

2010-08-05T10:48:00.000+02:00

Painting Day in Thegra

2010-08-02T11:00:00.002+02:00

Yesterday I was asked to participate in the jury for the annual painting competition in Thegra. I was immediately drawn to this colourful painting. "This painter is visually impaired so we will need to give him a prize too," said the organizer. "But I think it's beautiful!" I replied.

I gave it top marks. It was also the selection of the other professional painter on the jury, but we were over-ruled by the members of the town council who preferred a carefully rendered sepia drawing of a stone building. Chacun à son goût.

Forgery or fortune?

2010-07-30T11:26:00.004+02:00

There is a superb piece in the July 12 and 19th issue of The New Yorker, by David Grann, on authenticating works of art.

Is one painting acquired at a garage sale for five dollars a real Jackson Pollock worth millions, and another exquisitely rendered young girl painted by the master Leonardo himself? Peter Paul Biro believes they are, and he takes on the establishment in the form of people such as the former director of the Metropolitan Museum of art Thomas Hoving in what reads like a gripping gumshoe detective pot boiler.

Daniel and Julia

2010-07-30T10:38:00.011+02:00

Last night I had another sleepless night after watching The Most Dangerous Man in America- Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers. I was living in South Africa in the early 70's and so didn't really understand the significant role Ellsberg played in ending the war in Viet Nam, but he has been referred to fairly frequently of late since the Wikileaks revelations about the war in Afghanistan.

So this morning I indulged myself and stayed in bed with Julia Child's My Life in France. Julia and I both lived in Paris in the mid fifties. Here are pictures of us both with our respective families.

Both tales are riveting as well as true. I recommend starting with Ellsberg and recovering with Child.

Summer skies

2010-07-26T13:37:00.003+02:00

Twice a week I have AquaTonique at the Gramat pool. The rest of the week I swim laps between 12 and 2pm, when the entrance fee is half price and the pool empty. The French take their lunches very seriously, especially on Sundays.

This is partly because my favourite stroke is the backstroke and I don't have to worry about colliding with anyone. I love looking up at the changing sky and just getting into a good breathing rhythm as I reach backwards with my arms and pull myself through the water with long strokes. La vie peut être pire...

Cycling the Canal du Midi

2010-07-18T11:51:00.007+02:00

Spent three days cycling the Canal du Midi. We started in Carcassonne and spent nights en route in chambres d'hôte in Marseillette and Argeliers. It was an incredibly beautiful bike ride, with views south over vineyards, wheat fields, and provençal villages to the distant purply Pyrènees. Loud incessant cicada trilling accompanied us most of the way.

I confess I found it quite tough going, especially the second day which took eight and a half hours to cover 45 kilometers, admittedly with a leisurely lunch break and several stops to imbibe reviving cups of tea, icy citron pressé and tall frosty pints of beer. The route although flat was often quite bumpy over rocks, paving stone, trees roots and dried clay ruts, which mercilessly pummeled one's derrière, and the weather was in the 90's with quite high humidity. But most of the trip was shaded by plane trees with a lavender scented easterly breeze. Now that I have recovered, I am ready to start planning another trip, perhaps covering shorter distances to enable more sketching.

Over ripe fried tomato

2010-07-12T01:10:00.003+02:00

That's how I feel after five hours paddling down the Dordogne on a hot summer afternoon, despite numerous dips in the water. We covered almost twenty kilometers.

Got home in time to cheer the Spanish goal and the end of the World Cup. Yeay!

Tomorrow four of us head south to cycle the Canal du Midi which connects the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. It was constructed in the 17th century, amazingly enough.

Gouache

2010-07-02T23:10:00.012+02:00

I have discovered something wonderful- white paint! Now instead of drawing with a soft lead or charcoal pencil and using a watercolour wash to add colour and form, I am sketching directly with paint and it's quite liberating. I am still using watercolours but have a big tub of white gouache that I mix with watercolour and am very pleased with the result. It's so rich and painterly, and exciting things happen to the texture of the paint. Here are some 15 minute sketches from last Monday evening.

Pow!

2010-06-30T23:59:00.006+02:00

I was invited to participate in the annual summer show in the Château in Lacapelle-Marival this year. I sent in a few drawings, and attended the opening this evening, not expecting terribly much.

The standard of work this year however is very high. One painter who blew me away is former graphic designer Jörg Hermle, a Berliner who has a house in the Lot. I was immediately drawn to his work with it's strong design and colour. The imagery is playful yet very powerful and disturbing. Not only am I planning to go back, I am even considering buying one of his watercolour and gouache paintings.

To see more of his work, click here.

Too much of a good thing...

2010-06-30T16:24:00.005+02:00

Since moving to France, I have put on des kilos. At first I thought it was because I wasn't walking Thabo in Central Park for three hours a day the way I used to, so two years ago I got serious about exercise again: Gym Tonique three times a week plus a stretch class. Last summer I bicycled to Aquagym twice a week, and early this year took part in a 4 month cardiac research program involving three hours of speed walking a week.

This morning I had to be tested, measured...and weighed. I was horrified to find out that I had gained another kilo since the beginning of the program! This bunny needs to do something drastic about the tummy situation. The good life over here is getting out of control! Ok blog. You gotta help me out here. Rabbit diets consist of lettuce and carrots after all, not le pain et le vin. So, expect weekly progress reports...

To see more work by Gillian Goldbing, an English artist who summers in Marcilhac-sur- Célé, visit gilliangolding.co.uk.

Off the beaten track

2010-06-28T13:19:00.010+02:00

I arrived at the Gramat pool for my swimming hour on Sunday to find the place packed with at least 3,000 screaming kids and their enthusiastic parents for a swimming meet. Quelle horreur!

It must have been 50 degrees, so I loaded Thabo into the car and set out for the river. Our usual spot was inundated by more sweltering kids and their families seeking relief from the heat. Thabo goes absolutely manic near water, driving everyone nuts with his barking, so we had to leave. But on the way home, I spotted a rough track through a field and followed it to find the perfect spot for us to swim and either read The New Yorker (me) or gamble in the field (Thabo). 2CV's are fabulous for venturing off the beaten track.

Midsummer's Eve

2010-06-27T15:19:00.008+02:00

Last night I forgo the annual Fête de St Jean in Rignac to attend a vide grenier at a friend's castle. We were all told to bring stuff we didn't want anymore to sell and swap. Being a perennial pack rat, I had difficulty finding anything to bring, but eventually opened a mobile bookshop/art gallery in the back of my 2CV.

I totally scored! Came home with a hand embroidered linen tablecloth, wooden salad servers, an old pewter tea service, a colourful painting of tulips, a lovingly mended Quimper plate, two old Provençal pots and a dozen white dinner plates after selling and swapping a couple of children's books and rooster prints.

After we packed up our loot, our hostess biblically produced enough humous, aperitifs, green salad, tomato/lentils, cold pork, cheese and desserts to feed over a hundred people.

A rising full moon completed the magical evening.

Making hay while the sun shines

2010-06-25T01:03:00.007+02:00

After almost a month of wild storms and torrential showers, the sun finally came out on Sunday. Everyone has been busy clearing ronces et orties (brambles and nettles), trimming lawns and clearing out weeds. My garden was a veritable jungle. On the way to dinner with friends tonight, I stopped to snap this shot outside Rignac. The farmers have literally been making hay while the sun shines.

Le Lieu Commun

2010-06-23T17:08:00.017+02:00

Tucked up a little side street behind the church in St Céré is Le Lieu Commun, a small communal eating house where anyone can feast like royalty at midday on Wednesdays for five euros, provided one does without meat or alcohol. Christine and I had lunch there last week and volunteered to provide the group with some South African dishes this week. I made a cold cucumber/yoghurt /garlic/raisin/walnut soup served with toasted pita bread, and Christine wowed everyone with a South African curry replete with sambals: chopped tomatoes, green peppers and red onion, bananas, grated coconut and fresh coriander. Someone else brought along a ginger cake with fruit gathered from her garden and crème anglaise for desert. The conversation was as spicy as the meal. Bafana Bafana had just beaten the French Bleues the night before!

Ah- sweet literary revenge...

2010-06-22T10:11:00.011+02:00

A very unhappy family arrived at my cottage for two weeks on Saturday. Their grand tour of Europe was obviously not going as planned, and the cold and rainy weather wasn't helping things. The stolidly built bleached-blond wife looked around at the farm animals in dismay, jumping nervously at the sound of a nearby squawking chicken and shouting at her young son not to touch the dog or cats who had come to greet them.

Early the next morning, the bespectacled and harried husband was sent over to demand the return of their deposit. No one had slept a wink! Mother and child had come down with asthma and eczema and needed immediate medical attention!

Their arrival and departure have subsequently been the source of great local merriment, with "asthma and eczema" coming into almost every conversation. Perhaps these downunder suburbanites will provide fodder for the next volume in my Monsieur Monmouton series...

Sangoel goes to Yemen

2010-06-19T00:40:00.008+02:00

These photographs were lifted from Karen Lynn Willams's blog. Her co-author, Khadra Mohammed, took My Name Is Sangoel (which I illustrated) on her visit to refugee camps in Yemen. Here is what she wrote in the email with the images:

This little boy is 10 years old. His mom drowned when the boat they were smuggled in capsized. He is an orphan and UNHCR is caring for him under their unaccompanied minors program, his big smile melted my heart. His name is Hussain my new friend in the camp. He has been in the camp only for 6 months! He loves his book.

Wild lion

2010-06-07T11:13:00.006+02:00

My sister Vanessa lives on a game farm on the Zimbabwe side of the Limpopo River. She sends mesmerizing emails from time to time, like the following:

"Thought the attached photo would be of interest - an interloper from Botswana, we think, who was attracted to our lions by their calls. He's now hanging about OUTSIDE our garden fence, near the lion enclosure, and has been here for 4 or 5 days. Slightly disconcerting, as he is quite wild! Digby captured him on a motion triggered camera last night, sniffing pieces of meat we put out for it. He was obviously spooked by the flash, as he didn't eat any, but went back to the other end of the enclosure and spent the night there. Woke to dogs barking last night and the sound of border jumpers wading through the river. Not exactly a welcoming party on our side, is it!"

The 2010 Opening

2010-06-05T17:55:00.010+02:00

This is what the opening of an exhibition in rural France looks like in June. Specifically the opening in my little gallery, La Sirène du Causse.

My Monday night life drawing class opened our annual show last night. There were bottles of chilled rosé, hunks of cheese, quiches and tarts, and for those who stayed on past twilight, boeuf Bourgignon, salad and chocolate/banana/walnut cake.

Christian Leguay not only brought along his accordion but three musicians he plays traditional music with.

This is the second time the weather has blessed us with a balmy evening- the first summery one of year.

Thanks to Caroline Simon for emailing these shots.

Living in the moment

2010-06-01T12:42:00.004+02:00

I have just discovered a fabulous new artist: Jim Denevan. Using a piece of driftwood like a pencil, a rake like a wide brush, or even a bicycle or truck, Jim scrapes large temporary geometric images onto the sands of beaches and deserts. A trained chef, he also serves meals to hundreds of strangers in outdoor settings in a project he calls Outstanding in the Field, which is all about being aware of where our food comes from.

See more, including some videos, at www.jimdenevan.com

La Sirène du Causse

2010-05-29T13:47:00.002+02:00

For two years my gallery didn't have a name, let alone a sign. But complaints have been coming in from the tourist people. No one could find me.

I have been thinking about calling it La Sirène du Causse, or The Mermaid of the Causse, from the beginning, but thought a better name might come along. Nothing has.

The causse of Gramat is an ancient seabed with fossils in much of the sedimentary rock. I love the sea and feel a little landlocked here. I am a children's book illustrator, so a bit of fantasy is appropriate. Lastly, perhaps the legendary lure of the siren will draw some gold-lined pockets to the gallery.

Official departmental signs already point the way to the gallery, so ici seems enough to let everyone know that they are here. Besides I had run out of black paint. Strunk and White would approve.