An Art Residency Abroad

In April, 2024, I was fortunate to be accepted to an art residency in France. My husband and I spent five weeks in the idyllic mountaintop village of Beaumont de Pertuis in the Luberon valley, in Provence. The program was established a few years ago by a wonderful young couple who found the broken down “maison, “originally built in the 14th century and renovated last in the 19th century. With courage, imagination and flair they set about restoring the building preserving architectural elements such as original wooden beams, stone walls, and tile work. We had a small but adequate one bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchenette, a bathroom built under the eaves with a window looking out onto the next door tiled roof of the church, and a large terrace overlooking the sweep of the valley. The church bell tower was adjacent to our terrace, so we had the added pleasure, (no doubt a trial to some) of bells chiming every hour from 7 am until 10 pm.

There were six apartments in the building, a common laundry and music studio and an art studio in a building just a short walk down the hill. Our apartment was on the fourth floor, which I had mistaken for the third floor when I made the booking. In Europe, the American “first floor” is the ground floor, so if it says third floor, it means climbing up four flights of steep, curving stairs. Of course, there were no elevators, and we were lucky to have railings in the stairwell. It was quite a challenge, but the views were worth it. There were always other artists, sometimes with their partners, in the building, and at any time there were between two or five painters in the studio. Other artists included a singer songwriter, a novelist and a chef. The chef prepared a spectacular dinner for the group as her final project, and it was a feast to remember. All the residents plus the caretaker and housekeepers joined in the festivities. We met two other American couples, just a little younger than us (we must have been the oldest residents that had ever attempted this adventure) and spent wonderful evenings together sharing potluck dinners and lots of wine from local vineyards.

Before I left, I had contacted a young woman from California who had spent some time at the Maison, and as she was also an abstract painter who liked working large, she was able to give me some good advice. I took unstretched, primed canvas, which I had cut to standard sizes at Jerry’s Artarama in Raleigh,. We rolled this up and carried it in a 44-inch-long nylon sports bag which we found on Amazon for less than $20. Since my husband and I travel light, with only one roll-on each, we checked the sports bag at no additional charge. It held up very well, and although I fully anticipated it getting lost, it showed up at our destination city (Amsterdam) and showed up with no problems when we returned to the States, coming through Immigration at JFK in New York. I planned to buy all my paints and mediums in France, to avoid issues with customs regarding paint. Although the flight restrictions apply to oil paints and not water based or polymer paints like acrylics, I had heard of difficulties getting paints of any type through customs. Fortunately, our nearest large city to Beaumont de Pertuis was Aix en Provence, a university town which had two full-service art supply stores. It was forty-five minutes away, and as it is the birthplace and home of Cezanne, and the inspiration for many other luminaries, we were happy to spend some time there. I found Liquitex, Amsterdam and Pebeo brands all well priced. However, the mediums that I like to use, like glazing medium, extender and matte medium were outrageously expensive and I did without. I had packed all my brushes and other tools into the corners of the sports bag, so I was set for those.

All good so far, one may think, but learning to work in the studio provided was more of a challenge than I anticipated. My email colleague had said that she taped her canvases to the wall with gaffer tape, and she also worked on the floor (not an option for me since I am no longer 25 years old.) I hang my stretched canvases on nails on the wall at home, and that gives me a lot of flexibility. However, I found that the walls were covered in heavy stucco, so the painting surface of my canvas was horribly lumpy. I could not draw straight lines (which not everyone uses but I often incorporate lines into my work.) After struggling for several days, I decided to try to find a large Masonite board to prop on an easel (there were several easels) and then tape my unstretched canvas to that. We drove to a small nearby town, where there were supermarkets and hardware stores, and proceeded to try to find a hardware store. Looking it up on Google maps proved fruitless as we found ourselves at several huge wholesale warehouses instead of a hardware store. Finally, I found an English-speaking person in one shop who told me to look for a “bricolage,” the French term for a “Home Depot” type of DIY place.

Despite my lack of French and the local lack of English, Google Translate helped and I was able to get a nice board cut to about 48 by 48. However, I wanted to also buy some smaller offcuts to use if I ran out of canvas. I thought it best to get standard sizes cut, that I could easily frame in readymade frames on my return, but of course I had to translate the inches to centimeters and became flustered doing the math on my phone! I ended up with odd sizes, just a half inch or so off the standard, but enough that I had to finally get custom frames made here. So, my advice is, make sure you have your sizes lined up in centimeters on your phone so that you don’t have to figure it out on the fly, should you be in a shop trying to find the metric equivalents. Of course, all ready -made stretched canvas and boards in France are standard to centimeters and not to inches, so if you buy them there you will not be able to use readymade frames at home.

Because I had run out of canvas towards the end, I used my offcut boards and ended up making some loose mixed media pieces that I liked, literally diving into our trash bin in the studio for bits of paper wrappings, since I was also running out of paint. So, I then had to figure out how to bring those boards home as they could not fit into either my suitcase or the nylon sports bag. After exploring purchasing additional inexpensive suitcases we ended up being able to find a large vinyl art portfolio in a fabulous art store in Copenhagen and we packed my boards in there, securing the portfolio with massive amounts of strapping tape and "fragile”" stickers. We checked it at the airport, and it arrived home unscathed!

Lessons learned:

Weather:

Unless you are in Spain, I suggest that you always take your “puffy coat” or super lightweight nylon quilted coat, no matter the season. We had cold, rain and wind throughout Europe during April, May and June; we only had warm days in Spain. You can always sleep in your coat on the plane or squash it up into your roll-on case.

Packing: Take less than you think you need. I only took two pairs of nylon black pants, (wash in the sink and wear the next day) a pair of jeans, three or four black layering tops, one cashmere sweater I squashed into a corner, a pair of pajamas and undies. I wore my enormous Hoka athletic shoes on the plane and packed one pair of sandals which I ended up not wearing! Cobblestone streets, long walks up and down hills, no fancy outings: no need for any other shoes, perhaps a pair of flip -flops for cold stone floors.

Medicines both prescription and “over-the counter”:

Take all your meds! Take your preferred cold/cough/flu/pain/ meds because many countries in Europe do not dispense these kinds of meds without prescriptions. I found that throughout Europe they offer only natural remedies and aspirin, no NyQuil , Benadryl or anything else we are used to. During our three months abroad we both got colds more than once and it is miserable not to have your go-to meds.

Art supplies:

Do all your calculations in metric before you go, check out sizes of substrates on the internet, and prices on your favorite mediums. You can Google art stores in the area you are going to. Do not rely on Amazon! They did not deliver to our Maison unless someone answered the door and signed for the package. We ended up searching for Amazon depots in neighboring towns for our packages until we realized that it was a waste of time. If you plan to paint on unstretched canvas, get it cut to size with at least 4 inches on each side for stretching onto a frame. Draw your standard sizes that you wish to use, on the canvas with a ruler or T-square before you go. I couldn’t find a long enough ruler or T-square when I was there, let alone any that were not in metric. That ended up costing me quite a bit, as I could not square up my painting area accurately. When I returned, I had the canvases stretched, but because of the problems with metric and measuring, none of the stretched canvases were standard readymade frame sizes.

Groceries:

Since we were in a small village of a thousand people, there was nowhere to shop for supplies in our town, other than a “tabac” for beer and cigarettes and a tiny “minimart” which was open only for a few hours on certain days. We expected to shop for groceries in several adjoining bigger towns which were about twenty minutes away, but in my experience small French businesses close on Saturdays and Sundays and Mondays too, plus in the afternoon between 2-4 pm, and after 7 pm, so make sure you know where and when to buy food.

Language:

Don’t worry about language, everyone in the big cities is happy to speak English. Most European countries teach English in school starting in elementary school. In the small towns many people seemed to not understand or speak English, so make sure you are familiar with Google Translate. And it is only courteous to try using a few simple greetings and pleasantries in the language of your host country.

Conclusion:

Art residencies come in many shapes and sizes. Some have very rigorous application processes and others are less so, perhaps depending on the demand for the spots. There are ones that pay for your board and lodging, some that pay a stipend, ones where you pay for lodgings but are provided with meals, ones where you pay your own way but get to use the studio and meet other artists. Some require a final project or presentation and perhaps documentation. At La Maison de Beaumont, we paid considerably less than the market rate for our apartment, cooked for ourselves and had use of the studios. The cost of travel is not covered in most residencies abroad. All my fellow artists were serious and skillful, and I was grateful to meet them all. Although our host suggested a final project be presented, it was not mandatory and, in my case, my work was too big to be able to show in the little studio. One of my colleagues framed several of her pieces and put together a lovely show with a reception in the studio which was well attended by the local villagers. Her work was all on small boards not bigger than 8x10 inches. She was a well-seasoned traveling painter and instructor, and she knew all the ropes If you can afford to travel abroad to paint, I heartily recommend the experience.

Here is the link to the residency I attended: https://lamaisondebeaumont.com Feel free to reach out to me with questions. You may also follow my travel adventures both at the residency in France and elsewhere in Europe at https://www.jilliangoldbergart.com/blog

Jillian Goldberg Cary, NC 919-637-1675 [email protected]

2024 Norway

Last week of the TOUR!

After our lovely few days in Copenhagen, we packed up the car and took the ferry to Bornholm. I wrote a little bit about Bornholm in the last blog but in case you did not read that one, here is a quick recap:

Bornholm is a small, isolated island in the Baltic Sea, closer to Sweden than Denmark but part of Denmark. It is still completely unspoiled, with small fishing villages dotting the rugged coast. The village we stayed in, Sandvig, consists of  just a few houses, many of them the traditional low roofed, half-timbered style painted bright mustard yellow or red, a handful of shops and some small, rustic hotels. We were fortunate to book a hotel apartment overlooking the pretty harbor. Although the room was quite comfortable, it was up three flights of outdoor metal staircases, that were scary to me with my fear of heights and poor depth perception. Getting up and down with luggage was not fun. Once again, I learned how incredibly careful one has to be when booking accommodation: I reviewed our confirmations and descriptions on the Booking .com site and found no mention whatsoever of the staircases which, had I known, would have been a dealbreaker. I should have checked “handicap accessible” which I usually do, but I think I was lulled into false confidence because the pictures looked like we were on the beach, at ground level.

Despite the logistical hiccup we enjoyed our two-night stay and then returned on the ferry to Copenhagen from where we drove to Gothenburg, in Sweden, for an overnight to break our journey to Oslo. Gothenburg turned out to be just awful; the weather was foul, with constant cold rain and blustery winds which precluded any sightseeing. The hotel, on the other hand, was quite a unique experience. It was decorated in a style that was incredibly over the top: a cross between a grand Belle Epoch palace and a bordello. Magenta red walls, every doorway swathed in taffeta and silk, nude statues of coy nymphets on every table- top and in every corner, leopard skin patterned upholstery, pinks and purples, potted palms, floral displays, and enough art nouveau décor to fill a warehouse. The male staff, apparently picked for their good looks, were attired in suits and female staff in black hose, frilly dresses and satin aprons! The staff were very pleasant, and the breakfast buffet, included in the room price, was vast and presented like a royal feast in a fairy tale. I don’t care to eat much more than a slice of toast in the morning, so it was all wasted on me.

We had a dinner there, which was served under a small glass roof, on  the “terrace” while rain lashed the poor servers scurrying around. Other people were wearing their summer finery, clearly delighted to be “outside.”  The next evening, unable to face another ridiculously elaborate, expensive meal, we dined on Kentucky Fried Chicken in our small room, grateful for once for ubiquitous American fast food, even in the heart of old Gothenburg.

The drive from Sweden to Norway was pretty, as we passed through idyllic, green pastoral farmland, gently rolling hills and as we got nearer to Oslo, we  passed  gigantic granite cliffs thrusting out of the ground, very stark and powerful. We drove through several tunnels carved out of the mountains.

Our apartment in Oslo was very pleasant; spacious with high ceilings, tall windows looking onto a beautiful leafy street lined with magnificent stately homes and 19^th century apartment buildings. The Israeli, Spanish, British and German consulates were close by. We were very shocked to see graffiti saying “juden” on a corner in our neighborhood. Really chilling, given that Norway has a very ugly history of anti-semitism  both during the war and for centuries before. There is a 30% immigrant population in Oslo (many from Somalia and other Moslem countries) so I had an  uncomfortable feeling during our three days there.  We did not see any anti-Israel or Palestinian support signs, although there was a large police presence outside the Israeli consulate.

Just one of many beautiful, ornate and elegant  homes in our neighborhood in Oslo. I found the variety of decorative styles fascinating. 

Oslo is a city famous for its innovative contemporary architecture, which is unlike anything we have seen elsewhere. The famous Opera House, the DeLoit tower, the Munch Museum and more are each unique. We spent a few hours at the Munch Museum: fifteen floors devoted to Edvard Munch, with a top floor where one can look out over the bay and see an incredible vista. Public opinion was mixed when it was completed, partly because the looming bulk of  the building obscures the view of the harbor for some people. We saw several galleries of his work, which like most famous art, exceeds expectations when one sees it up close. The Scream, his most famous piece, is in a special gallery where it is shown together with a lithograph of the image and one of the earlier versions (like all his work, he repeated the themes many times over the years) Each piece, quite small, is shown for thirty minutes at a time, so people have to rotate in and out. We gave up on seeing the final “Scream” after an hour and contented ourselves with the other versions. One gets a sense of his incredible draughtsmanship, powerful portraiture, and the many intensely emotional, almost expressionist scenes he painted repeatedly of death and grieving.

   Apartment buildings on the waterfront in Oslo

I took a short walking tour of “Old Oslo” and “New Oslo” where we saw the old Oslo, where the immigrant families have moved in and created a lively street scene of markets and small restaurants, as well as many mosques. One literally crosses the railway tracks to the New Oslo, over a stunning bridge, and then one is near the beautiful harbor and waterfront, dotted with bars and restaurants, gardens and lovely streetscaping. Despite the size and height of the new buildings, I found the street experience pleasant and comfortable, unlike many cities where the architects seem to lose sight of how it feels to be outside the buildings on the sidewalk.

  New Oslo, called the "Barcode."

On our last day we flew to Bergen in the north and took a boat cruise to see the fjords. It was a very exhausting day, but the site of the fjords was worth it. We were fortunate to have clear, bright skies  which made it quite magical.

These settlements are so remote and isolated that it is difficult to imagine life there year round. I imagine that many of the homes we saw are summer cabins. It is common for middle class people to own a home in the city and a summer cabin in the country.

The cost of living in Norway was a real shock. Breakfast for two, with juice, coffee, avocado toast and  eggs benedict: $70. Cost of parking the car at the airport for the day, $60. A roll and coffee at a small coffee shop, $25. Hard to understand how people live, but Norway is one of the richest countries in the world due to North Sea oil and one has to assume that salaries are much higher than elsewhere in Europe.

In general, I found that in all the Scandinavian countries, bread features prominently in all meals. In Denmark the open faced sandwiches on display everywhere, the famous "smorrebrod," are works of art, almost too pretty to eat. Breakfast and lunch seemed to always be cold sandwiches, and I only saw one or two mentions of gluten free products in the week we were there, so gluten sensitive people would have quite a struggle to find anything to eat in restaurants. I also noticed the lack of fruit and vegetables: a full salad was very rare on menus, and we never had any vegetables with dinner other than French fries. This was surprising as the produce on display in the market in Copenhagen was wonderful.

  Lots of bread, fish and potatoes in various combinations

I saw no noticeable fashions, perhaps because it is almost always cold and rainy people must bundle up in puffy coats and sneakers. I also saw very little “alternative” fashion; most young people were dressed conservatively, although people are very heavily tattooed. To my eyes, some of the allover body tattoos made people looks like another species entirely! We saw little obesity perhaps because most people cycle everywhere, parents with kids in carriers, older people, people with dogs in carriers. There are more bicycles in Denmark than people! Cyclists were respectful of pedestrians, unlike Amsterdam where the cyclists are terrifying, speeding in huge phalanxes without regard to pedestrians.

  View from our cabin on the cruise back to Kiel

Waking at 4 am to see these breathtaking clouds over the ocean

From Oslo we took a ferry to Kiel in Germany, which was an overnight trip on a cruise ship, complete with restaurants, casino and very attractive décor. We had a beautifully appointed  suite with views of the ever-changing skies, as well as some islands that we passed. We disembarked and drove through Bremen Germany, back to Amsterdam. Bremen was really unpleasant; the entire city seemed blighted.  Their famous Medieval and Gothic architecture is dirty and uncared for, hemmed in by truly hideous, randomly placed buildings, some built right on top of once stately architecture. Both old and new buildings are coated in black grime, the streets are dirty, and even the one Starbucks in town was a mess and the server was very rude. The famous statue of the four musicians of Bremen, from the Grimm Brothers fairytales, is poorly placed in a corner of the market platz and is actually a rather bad sculpture in my opinion. The cat looks like a ferret.  It was dissapointing and sad to see and we were glad to leave it behind us.

                                                                                      The "four musicians," the donkey, dog, cat and rooster.

Now we are back in Amsterdam for two days, and we fly home tomorrow,  Monday 17^th. It’s been an extraordinary adventure, and we are both grateful for the opportunity and for our good health throughout. Having a car was a big plus as we could throw luggage and extras into the back seat without battling to close suitcases or lug baggage on and off trains, buses and planes. Of course, we could not have done the trip without a car because I had my paintings to bring home. My rolled- up canvases are in a long sports bag, and I found a flat portfolio to hold my paintings that are on Masonite board. We will check both of those items at the airport on Monday and hopefully they will find their way back to Cary!

On this trip we saw almost no street people and certainly no tent encampments, both of which we saw a lot of in previous years. We did not see drunks on the street, or obviously mentally ill people, all of which one sees in cities in the US. Despite the influx of immigrants and refugees to  Europe, society seems to function well at least from a tourist’s point of view. Service people are friendly and efficient, and no-one is tipped for service. I felt safe everywhere even in Spain where we had been warned about pickpockets.

Our most important advice to anyone planning to visit Europe, is to avoid June through August. The volume of tourists everywhere, as learly as mid May,  is quite overwhelming. If traveling in Northern Europe, even France, take a couple of warm but lightweight  sweaters that you can layer over t-shirts, a warm, water proof coat and only sturdy shoes. I didn't take out my one pair of sandals in the entire 10 weeks and I still have two unworn short sleeve tops, in the single roll-on suitcase I have used for this trip!

Looking forward to being back in sleepy, boring and sunny  Cary!

Jillian

2024

A few days on the famous Costa del Sol in the south of Spain.

We escaped Granada in one piece (the roads or alleys in the old city were the most challenging we have ever seen) and made our way through amazing scenery on our way to the condo on the Costa Del Sol.

The grandeur of the hills and mountains of Andalucia, the lush miles of orchards and olive groves, all pristine with nary a blot of development on the landscape, is well worth a drive if one has the time. The inter-city roads in Spain are very good: great surfaces, safe, wide and most people drive pretty well.

Our first stop was the seaside town of Alicante which I had picked as I thought it was a quiet picturesque backwater! Not so much: a large city, port and yacht basin, a lively tourist industry and a beautiful Old City. I have written about our stay there in the last blog. On the drive to  Malaga, we saw the magnificent mountains of  the Sierra Nevada range, which are capped with snow. To my surprise, we passed a town of cave homes, literally built into the hillsides. It turned out that there are about 24 cave villages in total in this region, going back to Phoenician and Roman times. Some of them are in the Sierra Nevada National  Park. The best known of these towns is Guadix and there is now a well-developed tourist industry with beautifully appointed cave homes to rent! The signpost on the highway said, “Barrio Troglodyte,” which really caught my attention.

The Beach

Our sea front condo was lovely; spacious, bright and light and all mod cons, in a small private gated community with access to an almost deserted strip of beach. It proved to be a great respite from our driving and many  hotel changes. The downside of the area is that the development is hideous, with apparently no regulation or concern for traffic flow or town planning. The entire area is split in two, along the coast for miles,  by a very busy highway and to cross from the seaside to the mountain side requires nerves of steel. Here the roads are really chaotic with nightmarish entrance and exit ramps and endless roundabouts. After seeing this mess, I will never complain about Myrtle Beach in SC again! Myrtle is an elegant, charming resort compared to the madness of the Costa Del Sol.

Gibraltar

We took a day trip to Gibraltar which was an hour away. As one of the very last remaining outposts of the British Empire, a passport is required to visit. The town is tiny, with a pretty yacht basin where we took a short cruise  to see the bottle nosed dolphins in the bay. We saw dozens of them, swimming and leaping in twos and threes alongside the boat. We drove to Europa Point which is the closest point to Africa, and one can see Algerciras across the straits quite clearly. We opted not to take the cable car to the top of the Rock, as it seemed very crowded,  so we missed our chance to see the apes,  which are really Barbary macaque monkeys, that have possibly been present there since the Moorish occupation of 711 AD. There are about 300 of them and they live exclusively on the Rock, nowhere else. Legend has it that when the apes leave Gibraltar, the British will lose the colony. Gibraltar was crucial to the success of the Allies in the second World War, controlling virtually all naval traffic into and out of the Mediterranean Sea from the Atlantic. The Allied invasion of French North Africa was coordinated from the “Rock,” commanded by General Eisenhower. Larry had read a great deal about the history of the war in Gibraltar and it was very special for him to actually see the place.

Today it seems a sleepy, pleasant place with lovely plantings, elegant homes on the cliffsides, and miles of open beaches. It reminded us just a little bit of the wealthy area of Repulse Bay Road in Hong Kong.

Ronda

This was the biggest surprise of the Spanish trip: a town we had never heard before I saw it in a Rick Steves video. We drove about an hour into the mountains, winding up and down over arid landscapes of deep gorges and rocky mountaintops. The first half  hour the drive was a nightmare of new housing developments and golf courses, packed on the sides of the mountains as far as the eye could see. Layer upon layer of new building, creating a beehive effect for miles. Clearly expensive homes and estates, but incredibly high density. It felt dystopian to me.

Finally, the view opened up to unspoiled  cultivated valleys, but no sign of habitation, and then we  finally  reached the town of Ronda. When seen from the mountain road above it looks like a large town but in fact it is only 35 000 people living in two sections on either side of the most spectacular bridge you will ever see. The town is referenced in Hemingway, as it is famous for its bullring, the oldest in Spain and still a major attraction. It is also referenced in the title of the book by George Elliot, Daniel Deronda.

The gorges that divide the old town from the new are simply spectacular and hard to describe, and although I had read about it and seen pictures it was still jaw-dropping. The old town is very beautifully preserved and spick and span,  with gorgeous marble floored piazzas, beautifully preserved churches,  medieval city walls, and charming alleys filled with outdoor restaurants and boutiques. Definitely worth a drive and perhaps an overnight to relax and walk about.

Up and out early on the 29^th, Larry to commence his epic drive to Copenhagen, and me to fly there.

More  later.

­­­Au revoir France, Hola Espana!

  A little flower shop on a tucked away street in Arles. 

We packed up the car, this time with five weeks’ worth of paintings, and set off on the next part of the journey.  Our destination was the little town of Perpignan on the Spanish border, but we left a few days early so that we could add two nights in Arles to our itinerary. Arles is  the city where Van Gogh spent the last two years of his short life.

Our first stop en- route was Nimes, an ancient city that was  a very  important outpost of the Roman empire. Larry had read so much about it and was eager to see the exceptionally well preserved double tiered amphitheater from 70 AD. This is still in use today and what we didn’t know was that the day we arrived, there was a bullfight scheduled. The old city was teeming with crowds, the roads were blocked for the street vendors and the traffic was so terrible that we eventually gave up without any sightseeing and headed for the Pont du Gard aqueduct nearby.

The Pont du Gard, a Unesco World Heritage site, is a must-see if one is in southern France.(buy tickets early online and get a guided tour)  It is a very well preserved three tier aqueduct bridge built by first century Romans to carry water over 30 miles to Nimes from the springs near Uzes.  The authorities have done a great job with landscaping the surrounding area to accommodate tourists and vehicles including phalanxes of tour buses. The facilities are spacious and well kept, and believe me, a WC in a public place in France is a great luxury.  We walked across the bridge, marveling at the scale and ingenuity. The engineering capability of the Romans at that time, with no computers or smart phones, is staggering and well worth reading about on the website for those who wish to understand how it all works. The views are so beautiful, it is as though those ancient builders knew just how to frame the landscape for ultimate viewing pleasure. With the graceful arches, rocky river shores and verdant vegetation, I could imagine Fragonard sitting at his easel, painting pretty young ladies in silks and satins on swings!

  Channeling my inner Rococo, imagining Fragonard painting here.

 Larry was thoroughly gratified to finally see the Pont du Gard. He explained it all to me:)

From there it was a short drive to Arles, the small city  where van Gogh lived from February 1888, until his death in 1890, although during that time he spent a year in an asylum in nearby St. Remy.  We were fortunate to have a room in a   modest hotel situated next to one of the gates of the ancient walled town, which made wandering around the ruins and down cobbled streets, easy and fun. Once a provincial capital of Ancient Rome, Arles is on the Rhone River.

A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum:)

The river front is undeveloped and quiet even though it serves many river cruise ships today.  The town has a laidback, cheerful feeling to it, with a small but well-preserved Roman amphitheater which hosts bullfights and events, but it has not been developed for tourism which seems to have happened without much fanfare. Restaurants are tiny, no big shops, just pretty sleepy squares, fountains, statues and a jumble of winding, cobbles stoned streets and alleyways.

  Photograph of Arles at dusk courtesy of Larry

The restaurant that van Gogh painted in The Café Terrace at Night (The Café Terrace on the Place du Forum) has not been preserved or rebuilt at all, and the spot is in fact shuttered and forlorn. There was an attempt by private developers to revive it for tourists but due to tax snafus the project folded. What an incredible opportunity for some savvy marketing entrepreneur! There is little in the city to celebrate its most famous painter, other than a van Gogh Foundation (also shuttered and closed with no explanation) and some plaques (couldn’t find them) where apparently, he would set up his easel. Van Gogh painted 200 paintings during his stay but the city does not own any of his major works to show the art lover who has traveled here to pay homage to the most popular post-Impressionist painter in the world! Despite its sleepiness, or perhaps because of it, Arles has been one of our favorites so far.

Many streets are lined with vines and flowers, but little gentrification yet. 

There is however, an extraordinary  and visionary project that has been developed just outside the city walls, in the area that was the old railyards. It is called the Luma and is a Foundation that directs and supports a creative campus “that  offers artists new perspectives for creation, collaboration and presentation of their work in public.” The  building, which is the centerpiece of a large park and lake,  was designed by Frank Gehry and is absolutely worth an hour or two of your time. The design of the exterior references the brush strokes of van Gogh in a very subtle way. We had never seen anything like it, it is quite breathtaking.  Read more at https://www.luma.org

The building facade is decorated with stainless steel bricks. It has 10 stories and  stands at 56 meteres, or 183.7227 feet. The drum or rotunda base references the ancient forum.

The entire project was conceived by and is directed and funded by private money. The founder, Maja Hoffman, comes from the Hoffman-La Roche  family, famous for founding  the company that became  Roche Pharmaceuticals. Similar to the Getty Museum, this project is an uplifting and inspiring example to me of how private enterprise in a free economy can contribute to the greater good.

Our good friends at the Residency had told us about the wonderful visit they had to the Camargue, a region near Arles on the coast, where big white horses and bulls roam free and migratory birds including huge flocks of flamingoes, can be seen. We set off from Arles but sadly, we both were very sick with food poisoning from our meal the night before. (The restaurant was the highest rated by Trip Advisor and written up in Rick Steves, and it was lovely except for some tiny organism that made us both sick) Neither of us was in the mood to wander about the beautiful swamps of the Camargue so we pressed on to Perpignan.

Perpignan was on our list because we both had read a lot about it in the context of the French Resistance in the Second World War, when heroes of the Resistance helped downed British RAF pilots, American airmen, Jews and others desperate to escape from Nazi occupied France, to neutral Spain, through the Pyrenees. Some of the stories from that time were retold in a wonderful historical novel by Kristin Hannah, The Nightingale, and while the heroine Isabelle is fictitous she is based on Ingrid de Jongh who devised the route known as the Comet line. Incredibly inspiring reading, highly recommend. There is also a wonderful movie about the American woman with a wooden leg (leg was named Cuthbert) who against all odds worked for the SOE (Special Operations Executive) as a spy conducting espionage, sabotage and reconnaissance, and also helped people escape through the Pyrennees. Her name was Virgina Hall, and a film based on her life was released  in 2020, named A Call to Spy. 

Who knew? One of my favorite sculptors, Maillol, was born and lived here. He donated many statues to the town. The red marble tile on the floor is quarried locally.

Perpignan turned out to be a strangely desolate town with no visible historical references to the escape routes through the Pyrenees in WW2. It’s a small town, with little apparent industry  or commerce, and almost no one on the streets in the Old City. It dates back to the Middle Ages and has a few interesting cathedrals and a beautiful “Hotel de Ville,” or Town Hall and I enjoyed a short tour of the sights to see with a lovely young college student guide named Chloe. There is a large North African community there and certain neighborhoods feel like one is in the Middle East, with groups of men sans women, drinking coffee in tiny sidewalk cafes.

One intriguing aspect of Perpignan is that it is home to a very large community of Roma, or Gypsies as they were called, estimated at 3,000 to 5,000. This community is so insular that no one really knows or seems to understand how it functions. Since current numbers put children attending school at no higher than 25 %  and unemployment at 90 %, little can be understood of their lifestyle. Ethnically Indo-Aryan, originally from Northern India, (although Christian) their communities in Europe date back to the 8^th and 10^th centuries.  Different branches of the culture in different European countries have distinct and different languages . Gypsies were regarded as “untermenchen”  (less than human, like Jews and Negroes, homosexuals and the disabled) by the Nazis and many were exterminated in the gas chambers. France has not had an unblemished relationship with the Roma, “le Gitan,” actually deporting 10,000 back to Romaina and Bulgaria as recently as 2009 and 8,300  in 2010! These actions caused a huge scandal in Europe as the deportations were technically on ethnic grounds, not legal grounds. The communities’ origins  and nationalities are so complicated and confused at this point in time, that government intervention on any grounds must be very difficult and fraught with accusations of racism. My guide told me about them being forced in recent times  into concentration camps.  They have their own code of behavior, rules and traditions regardless of the broader culture within which they live.

La Village de Pecheurs is a reconstructed village but still home to thirty fishermen, built on the banks of a beautiful lagoon.

On our way out of Perpignan, we drove along the coast and happened upon a very picturesque old fisherman village, where a few cottages built entirely of thatch, stood with fishing nets drying outside. Our attempt to explore and take photographs of this gorgeous area were derailed by clouds of the biggest  mosquitoes I have ever seen, so we scurried back to the car to continue to Barcelona. Despite our reluctance to brave the  mosquitoes we saw many hiking and biking groups and couples with babies. Apparently, the French are made of much sterner stuff than we!

Upon crossing the border into Spain, we found ourselves surrounded by vast shopping complexes notable for the bright colors of the facades: yellow and red juxtaposed was a theme, and if one watched the movies by Pedro Almodovar, the aesthetic really came to life.

Gaudi's architectural visions! What a surprise  to see this in real time!!

Barcelona is beautiful and charming and seems very livable, the little of it that we saw. We lucked out with our accommodation, a comfortable and nicely appointed but very  modest  apartment in an old building with views of the La Sagrada Familia ( Gaudi's fantastical magnificent cathedral ) from all three big windows with balconies!! Worth a million bucks for sure. Highly recommend the hotel company, Hostemplo, if this apartment is anything to go by.

Stay tuned for Barcelona and Antonin Gaudi, next episode!

2024 Beaumont de Pertuis,  le Trois

May 12, 2024

We are still in the idyllic picture book village of Beaumont de Pertuis,  in Provence, beginning week 5, the final week,  of  the art residency. We will both miss this place very much and already each day is tinged with sadness that we are unlikely to repeat this opportunity again. The glorious sunrises, velvety deep night skies alive with stars and satellites, ancient peaceful villages lanes, the chiming church bells next to us, the swifts swooping and the doves cooing…it is a place that seems to exist outside of time and trouble.

   Vew from our terrace; I cannot get enough of rooftops!

TRIP TO MARSEILLES AND ISRAEL

Last week we took an unexpected short trip to Israel to visit family. My brother had been ill and we were anxious to see him and our sister in law. We flew out of Marseilles, at 10. 30 pm on Monday 6^th, arriving at 3.30 am in Tel Aviv. Our nephew came to pick us up and drove us to our Air BnB in a  village close to their home. We were there just three days, but we were very glad to see improvement in his health in that brief time. Our flight back was at 5.30 am which meant getting up at 1.30 am for a 2 pm taxi! El Al airlines require check in three hours before the flight due to security protocols. It was tiring but we were grateful that we could make the trip.

Our brief sojourn in Marseilles en route  was uneventful; we reserved a “day room” at a hotel in the city near the Old Port, so we could relax and rest up before the flight. The room was in an ancient building up three flights of steep winding stairs but inside it was beautifully appointed. The views from our tiny balcony were classic “Matisse,” and I have a few nice photo references for paintings. Our impressions of Marseilles were limited to a stroll on the quayside of the Old Port, some people-watching at outdoor cafes, but it clearly is a gritty, tough city.   There was a strong police presence everywhere as the Olympic torch was due to arrive in the city on May 8^th , two days after our visit, drawing expected crowds of 230,000 people including famous athletes and other celebrities.  Groups of gendarmes with automatic weapons patrolled every street that we saw.    

Marseilles was founded in 600 BC by the Greeks and has been an important crossroads of trade and immigration throughout the centuries. The second largest city in France, with nearly 900,000 inhabitants in the city and a million and a half in the larger urban area, the immigrant population of Marseilles exploded in the second half of the 20^th century with the arrival of waves of immigrants from Algeria, Tunisia and other North African countries.  With so much history and modern architectural gems, we would love to return one day to see more of the city.

Marseilles, two vignettes from our balcony. Channeling my Inner Matisse on the left!

TRIP TO LUBERON HILL TOWNS

Here at the residency, we have taken a few afternoons off to explore the area. Yesterday we drove east and north to see some villages mentioned by Rick Steves in his Guide to Provence. The Luberon Valley, where we are staying, is a National Park, so it is rustic and unspoiled with startlingly dramatic  limestone ridges where gnarled cypresses cling to the rockface, and valleys of verdant,  rich farmlands, vineyards and lavender fields. Viewed from the roadside or from a hilltop, each view is more perfect than the next. Fields of wild poppies and other wildflowers cover the verges of the roads, growing out of nooks and crannies in the rockface and in the fields. Plane trees line many of the country roads,below.

We drove through many small, sleepy villages that look frozen in time, and  stopped at St-Saturnin-les-Apt, on the top of a mountain, where a very impressive, ruined castle dating from 1300, can be seen. The heavily striated and variegated limestone formations on the mountain top make it difficult to tell which stones are manmade and which are natural. Below the castle, clinging to the mountain side, is the village with a beautiful church set in a small piazza. It is a good example of Provincale Romanesque. The narrow, cobbled streets are very steep making navigating with a car  challenging to say the least! The ancient homes are well cared for and frequently draped with vines and creepers. Many lively cafes and bars line the village streets where street vendors displayed their wares in a makeshift market. I would recommend spending  a couple of hours exploring  this unexpectedly charming and picturesque spot.

See below

After driving down into the valley, we then made our way back up into the mountains where we visited a tiny town called Saignon. This was well worth the visit as it is probably the most charming, storybook town we have seen so far. We needed refreshments and a bathroom by this time (neither easy to come by in these small places) and we found a tiny café down a steep side alley, built into the mountainside, which looked like a home for a hobbit. Low beamed ceilings, three little tables set with vintage tableware, and a warm and welcoming hostess who served coffee and homemade chocolate fudge cake. Even the hand towels in the little bathroom were vintage hand embroidered linen  napkins!

The tiny village of Saignon, which is perched atop a moutain spur overlooking the Luberon Valley.

The drive upwards  winds around hairpin bends, frequently overhung with extraordinary formations of limestone jutting out of the mountain face. I wish we had more time to hang out and get to know these villages, but one cannot do it all. We have been so fortunate to stay in our own little town of Beaumont de Pertuis which we have come to love.

  View of the town of Saignon from the mountain road above the village

TRIP TO CASSIS

Cassis is famous for boat trips or hikes to see the “calanques” which are Mediterranean fjords with sparking clear water and tiny white beaches. None of these  can be reached by car or bus and we certainly were not up for either a boat trip (seasickness) or a hike, but we were able to enjoy spectacular views driving on the La Route des Cretes, which twists and turns all the way to the summit of the mountains overlooking Cassis on one side and the port and ship building town of  Le Ciotat on the other. In this town the Lumiere brothers, the fathers of cinema, took their first film of the arrival of a train at Le Ciotat station. The first screeing on this footage was in 1895 the Eden Theater which still exists today.

    Below: Larry near the summit of Route de Cretes 

    A view of the "calanques" seen from the La Route des Cretes

Below: the quayside at Cassis

En route to Marseilles we drove to Cassis for an overnight stay. Cassis dates back 2500 years to Phoenician and Roman times and despite its quaintness and proximity to the Cote D’Azure, it retains a simple, homey air. Close to  Aix en Provence and to Marseilles, the town nestles on a perfect little bay, under the towering cliff called Cap Canaielle. It is France’s highest maritime cliff, sculpted by receding glaciers and dropping 1200 ft straight down. On the summit is a picturesque fortress and castle dating from the 8^th century. Today it is an exclusive luxury hotel.  We had a room in the super simple and modest Le Golf hotel, on the quayside overlooking the port and the castle  across the bay. We had stayed at Le Golf the year before, when we “discovered” this little gem, and we really enjoyed our return visit.  The views from the balcony are pure “Matisse.”

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AND SO WE BID FAREWELL TO THE ART RESIDENCY....

   Last day in the studio at the Art Residency

2024 Spain

Barcelona, Alicante, Granada and on to the Costa del Sol

We visited the famous Casa Battlo designed by the one and only Antoni Gaudi, in Barcelona on our first day. It certainly exceeded expectations!

We stayed in Barcelona for three nights and needed at least a full week. Often one’s experience is colored by one’s lodgings and in this case we could not have been luckier.

I booked an apartment on VRBO, knowing that I wanted to be in the most walkable part of the city so that I could do my own sightseeing on foot. Our little home away from home turned out to be on the most perfect corner, not more than 10 to 20  minutes from many of the best sights, shopping and restaurants. The most amazing thing of course was that  Sagrada de Familia, the most extraordinary cathedral in the world,  was clearly visible from all three large windows so that we could actually lie in bed and see it!

The great architectural genius, Catalan architect Antoni Gaudi, began working on the project in 1883. From 1914 he worked on this exclusively  until his death in 1928. It remains incomplete although work continues. There are many different elements in the entire concept and the last elements that have been completed since 2020 are the central towers. Currently, work on the final and central tower is scheduled for completion in 2026. We stood and watched as two workers moved on impossibly high scaffolding with ropes, lifting the letter M into place. They looked like ants from where we stood, and it is simply mindboggling to imagine the entire project completed in two years at this pace, but our guide assured us that it is expected to happen.

The Sagrida Familia: Perhaps you can see two workers on the third tower from the left, tiny specks in red. 

We were so fortunate on this visit to have a charming, highly educated young man as our guide. He kept the tour simple and accessible but also conveyed his passion for the project. Of course, the little personal details always make the big picture come to life, and we learned that Gaudi never married, having been rejected by his one true love who became a nun! His entire life was devoted to this building which reflects his faith, his passion, his genius and his sheer force of will. He was  accidently run over right outside the main entrance, and died in hospital within three days before his identity was discovered. His remains are buried in the crypt below the main floor, a small, very spartan space that is not open to the public except by invitation.  Since his death many architects have been hired  and we actually saw  the current architect, a small Japanese man in a big black hat, emerge from the workshops under the church.

There is so much to describe and discuss about the cathedral, but all the information is out there to read. I think that no matter what your religion may or may not be, one cannot help but be deeply moved by the  love and faith expressed in this holy place.  If you visit, be sure to take a guided tour of the interior, and do not opt for an audio guide.

      From the left: the view from our apartment; extraordinary, mystical, bizarre designs filled with symbolism, the interior which is like being in a rain forest with light coming through the jungle canopy.

There are several other must-see architectural masterpieces by Gaudi in Barcelona, but we only visited two, the Casa Battlo, the one with the colorful exterior and mask like structures on the balconies, and the La Pedrera- Casa Mila nearby, which has an undulating exterior embellished by extremely complex and fanciful wrought iron sculpture adorning the balconies . I went on a tour of the interior of Casa Battlo and would not recommend it. The audioguide is very poorly done, and I found the interior claustrophobic and a letdown after the magnificence of the exterior.

  A view of the side of the Casa Pedrera. The throngs of tourists were not as intense here as at Casa Batlo where it is pandemonium on the sidewalk outside the building.

While Larry worked on some research, I went on a “Picasso walking tour” on our last day, which was fun and informative. Picasso was born in Malaga (where we are staying today) into a middle-class family named Ruiz and he took  his mother’s maiden name, Picasso, which was Italian, possibly to give himself more flair!  His father was an art teacher, and the family encouraged the young prodigy. They moved to Northern Spain when he was nine, but as a young man he returned to Barcelona where he lived the bohemian life with other young experimental artists. We saw the “Four Cats” bar on a corner where they would hang out and where Picasso drew a menu  to pay  for his bar tab.  The design is still used today and reminded me strongly of the style of Toulouse Lautrec. It was in this time that Picasso entered his Blue Period, 1904-1906, possibly brought on by the suicide of his close friend. Of course, no tour would miss out on the story of the iconic painting Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, (1907) the title of which does not refer to the city of Avignon but to the narrow cobbled street, Carrer  de Avinyo, where he frequented the local ladies of the night. See below!

Here is a reproduction, much smaller than the original, outside a popular art gallery in the old city of Barcelona. Picasso was given his first professional exhibition at the Sala Pares gallery here, and the elegant gallery continues in business today, having opened in 1877.

This iconic painting by Picasso, Le demademoiselles d'Avignon, was painted in 1907 and first exhibited in 1916. It was extremely controversial at the time, although I think we are so familiar with it nowadays that we barely look at it  twice.  Certainly Picasso angered and confounded both his friends and critics alike with the work, which nevertheless led to the Cubist movement in art which continues to inform art today.  

The city of Barcelona has created an impressive museum devoted to his work, built on the remains of a Renaissance palace, and the architects have done a wonderful job of preserving some of the ruins, including elegant courtyards and archways,  which  give a lovely atmosphere. The museum comprises three buildings, very overwhelming and more than I could possibly manage. Since I was already tired from the tour of the old city and Picasso’s haunts, I just walked through and stopped to look at the several paintings of the French Riviera which are very similar in feeling to Matisse, and also looked at the several interpretations he made of his countryman Diego Velasquez’ s masterpiece,  “Las Meninas, ” 1656. “Las Meninas” has been a favorite of mine since  childhood. As a painter now, seeing his interpretations close up in real time was inspiring.  As we all know, Picasso was nothing if not prolific and the museum in Barcelona has more than 5,000 pieces in the permanent collection…. Phew! We are currently here in Malaga, his birthplace, for three days and the city of Malaga has also created a museum to honor their native son, filled with work donated by his granddaughter and grandson. I doubt if I will visit. Clearly his legacy is complex and controversial and at this point I confess that I realized that I personally do not want to see more of it!  

A small shop window that reflects the love of saturated colors and playful style of Barcelona.

We only saw and experienced the tiniest bit of Barcelona, but the city left a wonderful impression. Friendly, laid back people, exquisite 19^th and early 20^th century architecture wherever one looks in the city, trees, plazas and outdoor cafes. Surprisingly inexpensive food, ridiculously inexpensive wine, and clean streets. I saw many pretty young ladies in municipal fluorescent green uniforms sweeping and cleaning in the mornings. Almost no homeless or drug addled street people to be seen at all.

 I highly recommend visiting this ancient yet very stylish and vibrant city, but as always try to avoid the high season which is already in full swing even before June has commenced!

 I could take pictures all day of the colorful old buildings and lush bouganvillea, jacaranda and tumbling pot plants in the Old City of Alicante!

From Barcelona we drove to Alicante, a town on the coast, about five hours away and a little beyond Valencia which we decided to miss. I had imagined Alicante as a picturesque fishing village, I don’t know why, but of course it is a large modern city of  over 300, 000 people, a well -developed tourist industry, a university, and port and yacht basin. I picked yet another off the beaten track BnB in the old city and once again (will I ever learn?) there was no parking, steep cobbled streets, tangled lanes,  but loads of atmosphere ! The tiny boutique  hotel was very stylish, just a few rooms carved out of an ancient building, with incredible mosaic floors, ancient ceiling beams, and very modern colorful art and décor. We enjoyed a restorative  couple of glasses of local wine and a beautifully styled  dessert, at a tiny bistro in a quiet alley by  our hotel. We finally went to bed at about 11, but for the locals the evening was getting started! I woke in the early hours to the sounds of drunken students  carousing outside but I closed our window under the eaves, and returned to my comfortable bed.

                                                                       And one more!

As in any Spanish town, there are more ancient ruins, monuments and museums to see than anyone would ever have time for, but our itinerary called for moving on to Granada.

From top to bottom, the view of the Alhambra, the top image is of the view from the left, and the bottom image is the view continued to the right. 

“Granada, you have me under your spell….” Larry and I both remember listening to Frankie Lane singing that song. I must confess that we really did not give Granada a chance, as it turned out to be a stopover on our way to the condo that a friend offered us in the Malaga area. Yet again, I managed to book the most difficult apartment to get to in the entire city! In the old town, on a hill overlooking the sweep of the valley and the distant snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains, tiny cobbled streets lead to a famous lookout point where international tourists, hippies, backpackers and gypsies alike crowd all day and especially in the evening to see the view. Much guitar playing, soulful singing and little kids roaring around, and of course the ubiquitous North African migrants selling trinkets on the pavement. And in the distance, the  breathtaking Alhambra. Regulations forbid cars and parking in that area, so we had to drive down the most harrowing alleys and hairpin bends up and down mountains to reach a parking lot, a drive of at least a half hour! It truly was a nightmare, and certainly not explained by the hotel management!! From the parking lot we were able to get an Uber back to the apartment. I took only my toothbrush and Larry took his bags and so we only had to drag a couple of bags around a corner, up a flight of stairs, and then: THE VIEW! Unimpeded, perfectly framed and under a full moon. I don’t know if we will ever go back to experience a tour of this place which is the most famous monument of Islamic architecture as well as notable Spanish Renaissance architecture. One has to book months ahead for a tour we were told.

Adios Granada, and on to the coast of Andalucia, the Costa del Sol, where seaside towns are home to thousands of British expats who have fled the grey drizzle for the sundrenched, inexpensive life here in Southern Spain.

More next time!

2024 France, Beaumont de Pertuis, part deux

April 28^th

^{Scenes from the ancient town of Orange.}

We have been here for two weeks, having arrived on Sunday, April 14^th. Our first impressions were colored by the gloriously mild, sunny weather but the last week has been very cold with intermittent  rain and  strong winds. Apparently unusual for this time of the year, but we have heating in the apartment and in the atelier plus wonderful views of the changing landscape, so we are comfortable.

Yesterday we set off on a sightseeing expedition to the town of Orange, named for William Prince of Orange of the Netherlands, in the 12^th century. That is a long and very complicated story of European royalty and the Holy Roman Empire, but originally in Roman times, the town was named Aurosio. At that time, it was strategically situated on the Via Agrippa which linked the Roman cities of Lyon and Arles.

 It’s about an hour and a half drive through beautiful countryside, vineyards stretching in all directions and glimpses of the Montaigne Saint-Victoire mountain range, a limestone ridge of mountains extending north to south for over 11 miles. The highest point is 3,317 ft. Paul Cezanne famously painted the mountain, which he could see from his house,  many times. Aix-en-Provence, a large University town only 45 minutes away from us,  is where one can follow the “Cezanne Trail,” where Cezanne set up his easel.  We are planning a day trip there  soon (when the rain and howling winds let up ) to visit the local museums. Interestingly very few of Cezanne’s works reside in Aix but there are many other Impressionist works to see.

The town of Orange, which we had not previously heard of, turns out to be the site of an extraordinarily well preserved ancient Roman amphitheater, the best in existence and  famous for having the only standing back wall (acoustic wall) found in all of the Greek and Roman amphitheaters. Built in the first century AD, It is a Unesco World Heritage site. Inside the arena, one can easily imagine the spectacles that were staged there. The seating could accommodate 10,000 people, and they would not have had to look for parking! Once cannot imagine 10,000 smelly citizens of the Roman empire, from aristocracy, local officials and dignitaries, to the middle classes of merchants and craftsmen to the lower classes of beggars, prostitutes and general rabble who would be relegated to the “nosebleed” seats at the very top. How did they make their way to the entertainment, and then find refreshments and lodgings and wend their ways home? No public transport, no Holiday Inn and Burger King, no streetlights, it’s all a mystery but one thing is clear, people of all classes and walks of life craved the entertainment cleverly laid on by the local government of the Empire. The expression, Bread and Circuses, comes to mind. The Empire kept the masses appeased by providing compelling theater which grew from 65 days of games a year, to about 180 days of entertainment each year, by the time Rome fell. By the fourth century, under the Christian Emperor Constantine, many theaters closed (lewd and immoral behavior) and this one was abandoned and forgotten, literally covered up with sand, until excavation and restoration of the almost perfectly preserved complex began in 1869 and continues to this day.  

The place has hosted great rock performances by legendary bands like Deep Purple, Dire Straights, The Police, Elton John and many more. Since 1971 it has hosted  a month long  annual international Opera Festival in August . It must be an unforgettable experience, but be warned, no ADA (no handrails or guardrails or elevators)  and if your balance and head for heights is not great, do not attempt to climb the stairs. I didn’t think I would make it down, but fortunately discovered that manageable exits with stairs and handrails have been cut into the walls of the auditorium to allow egress for senior tourists.

We visited on a Saturday, and found that strangely, most small businesses and boutiques near the Amphitheater were all closed. There were a few cafes open, but it seems that until May or June, locals do  not  cater to tourists. Most smaller towns in this area close down completely on Sundays with not even a convenience store open anywhere, but we didn’t realize that Saturday is also a no shopping day, along with Monday afternoon, Thursdays, and daily between 12 and 4 pm. I guess capitalism isn’t popular around here! Not mention the strikes and public holidays….even roadside gas stations and shuttered and closed with nary a cold  Coke for the weary traveler.

      The charming village of Chateauneuf du Pape.

View of the Mont Saint-Victoire mountains from Chateauneuf du Pape

After diligently touring the Roman amphitheater, we drove to Chateaneuf du Pape, a small town whose name is synonymous with regional winemaking. It is a gorgeous spot, set on a hilltop with remnants of ancient walls and gates, steep and narrow winding cobblestone streets, wild poppies, daises and wisteria  blooming in the stone work and views of Mont Saint-Victoire in the distance.   We bought some wine (Chateauneuf du Pape of course) from one of the many small “caves” that line the streets. Last evening we gathered for a potluck at one of our neighbors in the building and shared one of our bottles with our group of eight.  It was a rollicking evening.

    City gates of Manosque

We have visited several more villages nearby, including Mirabeaux, where the movies Manon of the Spring and Jean de Florette were filmed in the ‘80’s. 70s. Also, a short drive away is Monesque, a largish town of 16, 000 which has a bit of industry and construction companies and is also the home of L’Occitane, the famous cosmetics and skincare company. Monesque, while quite working class, has some beautiful ancient city gates in the “old town.” I was really excited to find great Masonite at a local hardware store there, which I had cut to size so that I can tape my unstretched canvas to it, and also to paint on. This was a godsend as working on the heavily stuccoed wall of our atelier was very difficult. The salesman spoke no English at all, but we got on very well and thanks to Google translate all was resolved. Although there are many large supermarkets for buying produce and groceries,  there seem to be no department stores and shopping centers as we would have either in or on the outskirts of our smaller towns. To shop one must go to Aix en Provence or Marseilles.

  A castle on a hill in the village of La Tour d' Aigues

So far, two weeks in, I have four large paintings sufficiently complete that I can tweak them when I get home.  Two are 36 by 36 inches and two are about 18x24. I have adjusted to having an extremely limited palette, no mixed media, and a little tabletop of about 2 by 2 feet to set materials and mix colors. I also have many reference photos of the villages which  I look forward to playing with when I return to my home studio.

France Spring 2024

La Maison deBeaumont,  April 14-May 19

We arrived at the residency in Provence on Sunday April 14.  We drove from Paris to Lyon where we spent a night. We didn’t see much of Lyon, just a few hours at sunset in the Old City. Lyon is the third largest city in France and boasts some amazing medieval architecture as well as striking (if strange) modern architecture.  We did go for drinks at a  popular riverfront cafe which was thronged with hundreds of young people. It was quite a mob scene, with waiters tearing through the melee to deliver drinks and a maitre d who was funneling customers waiting in long queues, to tables. I noticed that almost all the youngsters, probably ages 17-25, were beatuifully groomed and fashionalby attired. No grunge, no goth, no alternative colored hair or pierceing, although most were tattooed. A lot of young men, who looked to be of Middle Eastern origin, gathered in groups, their hair and beards freshly styled. Very few women accompanied them.  In general in France, people appeared  well dressed and stylish and trim. Despite the wonderful bread and the French fries served with most meals, people are trim and fit, perhaps becuase one has to walk everywhere. Traffic makes driving a car in the city impossible.

The drive was pretty with endless vistas of rolling meadows, granite outcrops of mountain ridges, bright yellow fields of rapeseed, flocks of  sheep and goats. Here and there an ancient ruin, a hilltop fort or church clinging to the rock. Approaching Beaumont de Pertuis, we began to drive through very beautiful avenues of plane trees, reminiscent of so many Impressionist paintings.  The trees with white mottled trunks and new green leaves, form a vaulted cathedral overhead.

(These plane trees are a hybrid of Asian and American sycamore trees imported into Southern France in the 19^th century and planted extensively.)

The village of Beaumont de Pertuis is very small, only 1100 people  and so named because it is nearer the larger town of Pertuis. It is in the Luberon Valley  in the Provence-Alpes-Cote d’Azur region. The area is famous for lavender fields, vineyards, honey and many picturesque hilltop villages.

 View from our terrace.

The hillsides are lushly forested with a variety of trees and shrubs including the iconic cypresses.

One can drive a car into the village, but with great difficulty,  so we deposited our luggage and returned to park the car nearby. The roads are narrow cobbled lanes which twist and turn up the hills with hairpin bends. They are lined with cottages whose doors open directly  on the street. Many of the shutters and doors are painted blue, and the orange ceramic roof  tiles create a vibrant contrast of colors. Since it is Spring, each doorway is bedecked with trailing wisteria  and tulips, irises, geraniums and daisies in pots. There are several little piazzas with very old water fountains. The " main street" thought the town  has a very small grocery store and a couple of bars. There is a post office, a town hall and oddly, a “biblioteque.”

Our art studio is a couple of minutes’ walk away, and although very small it is pleasant and has a tiny bathroom. The light is fine for me but too bright for one of my painting colleagues. There are currently three of us painting, one retired illustrator who works in casein (a milk emulsion, not often seen) and his work is exquisite. The other young man is a beginner painter experimenting with oil sticks and mixed media.

We soon met the other residents, six in all, who welcomed  us warmly and even helped bring our luggage upstairs. Our “penthouse” is on the third floor, which in the US is the fourth floor, so three flights of very steep, angled stairs which spiral up from the ground floor. I hang onto the banisters for dear life. Climbing up and down is a challenge and one tries to avoid unnecessary trips!

Our advantage is that we have two balconies, one facing the sunrise and one facing the sunset, which are completely private and have  vistas of the countryside. We are adjacent to  the church bell tower which rings both on  the hour and the half hour, but it stops at 10 pm. I enjoy the sound of the bells and so far, I have not been woken by them, even though I have fallen asleep very  early since we’ve been here.

The apartment is ingeniously designed, having been carved out of an 18^th century house, so there are many walls at angles, many stairs up and down into rooms, exposed ancient beams and an odd layout with the bathroom off the kitchen. It’s plenty of room for us, and the light is gorgeous, but I am a little disappointed in the kitchen which has four plates, four sets of cutlery and a large dishwasher? But no oven and no freezer section in the little fridge. So no casseroles or sheet pan dinners, and no ice-cream!

Another quirk is that the hot water heater doesn’t appear to have a thermostat to set the temperature for heat, so one can very easily be scalded if the faucet is a fraction to the left of center. We are so incredibly spoiled in the US with all our creature comforts but that is what travel is about, learning how other people live! 

I thought I was very clever and efficient in packing my art supplies, for which I had purchased the 44 inch long nylon bag, which we checked and which actually arrived! However, when I finally opened the bag today, I appear to have left a whole lot my stuff behind! All my drawing tools, rulers, T-squares, squeegees and more somehow eluded me when packing. I do have the primed, unstretched canvas but …..I found out that I have to tape  it down to the wall, all the way around, as it hangs loosely on bulldog clips (which was my plan) and my “straight” lines are all wonky.

Fortunately, we are only 45 minutes drive from Aix en Provence where there are two nice art stores so I may have to make another trip there. I bought my paints  on Monday and was pleasantly surprised by the price of the basic Liquitex, Pebeo and Amsterdam acrylics. The glazing and matte medium were  outrageously expensive though. Jerry’s Artarama it ain’t!

There is a writer, a chef and a singer songwriter currently in residence . We had a lovely sing song on Monday night, with jazz piano and vocalist, and we all joined in. Tonight the chef is presenting a full dinner in the music room. Note: the dinner was divine with elaborate appetisers with wine and pastis (phew, liquorice flavored alcohol) Main course was leg of lamb which fell of the fork, accompanied by beautiful local carrots and the freshest asparagus I have ever tasted. After that a huge tiramasu arrived, which I have to admit was a lot more elaborate and delicious than my quickie version. ( I asked for the recipe which included so many steps that I soon gave up considering that) Our table was set with lovely Provencal design cloth and napkins and Villery and Bosch tableware, most elegant. The dinner was  our chef, Pauline’s,  final project as it were. She spent a week here in residence.

I have made an ambitious start on two smallish pieces, which I feel are warmups for working in a looser, more abstract way as I get acclimated. The rooftops, doorways and windows create wonderful compositions of juxtaposed shapes. The weather turned bitterly cold and windy (although sunny) so I have not been able to do my intended sketching outdoors but taking photos is a joy. 

Sunrise from out terrace on two different mornings.

The bell tower adjoining our apartement. Doves flutter in and out and swifts soar back and forth all day.

Tiptoe through the Tulips!

        Our first glimpse of the flower fields

Today we decided to get out of town and drive to see the world-famous tulip fields of Holland. Holland produces 70% of the world’s commercial flower output, and driving through some of the fields one cannot imagine the logistics, labor and sheer genius of operating an industry of this size and complexity!

One has to really see the fields to believe the stunning colors, arrayed in strips often stretching as far as the eye can see. Sometimes fields are planted with shades of one color, sometimes brilliant yellow next to piercing violet, pure red next to whites and creams….the variations of plantings are wonderful and surprising to see at each turn in the road.

The famous garden for tourists is called Keukenhof, but one needs to book tickets and parking tickets (or tours) weeks in advance, so we took our own car which was a bit challenging as the roads were packed with cars, bicycles (many people drive to the area, and then ride their bikes along the paths)  motorbikes and tour buses. It seemed like  the whole of Holland was out enjoying the rare day of sunshine after a week of solid rain! Very enjoyable however, and I highly recommend booking a tour if you are going to Holland. It’s less than an hour’s drive out of town and can be seen successfully in a couple of hours.

Our lovely houseboat home in Amsterdam. From top: full kitchen, front door showing the boat moored, living room and laundry (big treat) and view from the deck out front.

We enjoyed a comfortable overnight flight from JFK on JetBlue, our first transatlantic flight with this airline which has not had the best reputation in the past. We were pleasantly surprised by the comfort of the business class cabin and the friendly and helpful staff. (I have found both Delta and American cabin staff to be less than pleasant in recent years.)

I booked a houseboat on the canal for this stay, and it has been a delightful experience on every level. If you have traveled to Holland in recent years you will know that hotel rooms in Amsterdam are extremely expensive, so we were thrilled to have a full "condo" with large bright open plan living room and full kitchen, right on the water, and a generous bedroom and bathroom upstairs. Beautifully designed and decorated, with every comfort inlcuding a washing machine and dishwasher. Our hosts who live next door, have been wonderful. It's on a quiet, treelined street, a short walk to resturaunts and shops. We have enjoyed watching the waterfowl sailing past our door, including ducks with their fluffy chicks sailing behind them, moorhens, seagulls and a swan. I think that our room in Paris is going to be a sad comedown from this lovely lifestyle!

The reason for our trip to Amsterdam was to visit an old friend here, who has not been well. We did not have plans to sightsee and we have spent most of the time sitting with my friend and talking about the good old days. We were lucky to also meet up with other friends from our early years in Cape Town and that is a real treat. Friendships going back to childhood and college days are precious, especially as one ages!!

Larry connected with friends from the Tesla community and we have a rental Tesla but parking in the city is challenging and some of the old streets barely have space for one car, so catching an Uber or jumping on a bus is a better way to get around.I have always enjoyed Amsterdam which is a small city, easy to navigate and very relaxed and safe, except for learning to avoid instant death from the phalanxes of very fast bicycles whizzing by at alarming speeds everywhere in the city.. Many streets have dedicated bicycle lanes but one has to train oneself to be mindful at all times.

On Sunday we drive to Paris where we will join Lenore and Joel Raphael, friends from Cary, for a jazz concert at the Swedish Club. Then it's off to Provence and the art residency. The weather in the South of France will be a lovely respite from Amsterdam's grey wet days, but we expected the weather and are grateful to have this time to reconnect.

Below: Larry enjoying fresh oysters and a large gin at the food hall nearby, De Hallen, a convered old tram depot.