Here, there and almost anywhere

A potato heart

February is the longest month of the year. Well, at least for me. I don't care how many days it has, it just seems like too many. With March comes that feeling that spring might actually arrive after all, and gray skies disappear. What a difference a blue sky can make! The sun, in all its feebleness, does its level best to lure you outside and, sure enough, a walk in the woods reveals pleasant sights, smells and chirpy bird activity.

Where is the camera when I need it? Yesterday, in the middle of the forest pathway, we came upon a cat and rooster in serious conversation while 4 hens looked and clucked on. The cat, who seemed to be dreaming unreasonable dreams, scampered away when we approached. Mr. Rooster, who didn't seem the least perturbed, strutted on down the track with a shake of his handsome red comb while his lady friends scurried a few steps behind. I'm not sure his leadership would prove to be above question. He headed deeper into the forest, and further away from whatever coop they had escaped from. Perhaps he had overheard the farmer's wife discussing Sunday dinner. Maybe he was leading the great escape. Whatever it was, I intend to look for eggs on the side of the trail next time we head down there.

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We have recently been trading visits with the family in Paris. First they came here, then we went there. Emily, when she is not acting/directing, cooking or entertaining her children, does a great deal of sewing. She tells me its because it's so "easy to do." Not for me! She went with her good friend Alex to a huge trade fair  in Paris and came back with lots of beautiful fabrics, mostly to make clothing for Quinn, Zinnie and their friends.

All these lovely whimsical designs were made in Japan.

While at the Maison Conti, she began several projects making children's clothing. This is her way of relaxing! Hmmm.

It was fun to see the atelier turned into a sewing room. The big table makes a wonderful cutting surface. Emily gets most of her patterns on line.

She brought her own sewing machine, which is a good thing, since my own is an ancient Singer, able to sew a straight line (sometimes) and that's about all. She has a nice new and fancy machine.

Zinnie, wearing pants her mother made several months ago, acted as helper.

I found it incredible that Emily was making pajamas for Quinn. It seemed like so much work. But I have to admit they are absolutely adorable.

Quinn, the monkey boy, was very proud of them.

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Emily and Jos' show opened at the Bouffes du Nord in Paris at the end of February. This is a stunningly beautiful space. We came along to help with the childcare, as the performances ran every evening for ten days. We couldn't stay the whole time, but we did stay for several days. Rick was at the opening, and since he was a member of the team, even got to take a bow on stage at the end of the performance.

 

I can hardly resist going to my favorite art store when we get to town, and this time I really did have something I needed to purchase. It's an easy ride on the metro from Emily's place to the Louvre. This time of year the crowds are much smaller than in warmer months. That makes for a pleasant visit.

The metro lets out on the right bank, by the Pyramid courtyard. A short stroll through the Tuileries and the grand carved entrance that leads into the park takes you to the river and the Pont du Carrousel. From the bridge you see the Musée d'Orsay and the Grand Palais in the distance. The wintery colors are mellow and muted. The Pont Royal, built in 1685, evokes old Paris, as of course do all the buildings around the river here. I never get tired of these views.

On the left bank one finds the most extravagant antique stores with magnificent treasures in the windows. I wouldn't dare go in to one of these shops, but I do like "licking the windows," the expression the French use for window shopping.

Visiting the ever-busy Sennelier is always a sensual pleasure. It was an hour and a half round trip to purchase a single pen, but the pleasure of the errand was in the scenery along the way.

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The children gave us an iPad for Christmas this year, which we have been warming up to slowly. We're both rather Luddite at heart, and anything that is called "a device" is to be looked upon with some suspicion in my eyes. We live very happily without a smart phone and we actually enjoy being out of range from time to time. This week, however, all that bravado was undermined when James introduced me to a brand new game available in the app store. It's called Year Walk, and it is positively addictive.

 

It's based on a Swedish practice from the Middle ages. What writing there is was authored by a celebrated Swedish scholar who is an expert on Swedish myth and folklore. The game has no stated rules or even goal. There are absolutely no directions. One just starts out swiping around the screen and from time to time things happen. You become aware that there are riddles and puzzles to solve and once you stumble into a new level, you're so delighted with yourself.

It is beautifully created and illustrated, and I highly recommend it. If you think computer games are a waste of time, you can listen to this TED talk and get an entirely different perspective:

A Perfect Day in Paris

The Pont Neuf on a crystal clear February morning

We spent about half the week in Paris, visiting Zinnie, Quinn and their parents, helping out with childcare and doing some big-city errands. We picked an exquisite day to hop the metro into Paris Center and engage in one of my favorite activities in life, shopping for art supplies! It was also a wonderful excuse to have lunch in a sunny café and take a nice long walk along the river, which is exactly what we did.

I purchase most of my printmaking supplies at Charbonnel, one of the best names in printing ink. They also sell my favorite copper printing plates in various sizes. Their copper is a little thinner and more original in size than I am able to get at other places. Since I usually buy quite small ones, carrying around a bag full of new plates isn't too cumbersome.

The store is located on the left bank just across the river from Notre Dame. After getting off the metro at Place St. Michel and having a very nice Caesar salad at a nearby café, we walked along the water to Charbonnel which has been at this address for over 100 years. From inside the shop, if you look out these windows, you see Notre Dame towering above the waters of the Seine from l'Ile de la Cité. It is really quite breathtaking.

I also found something I wasn't particularly looking for, a little artist's journal by Fabriano. I couldn't resist purchasing it and I must say, after only a fews days of use it's already become the favorite little sketchbook I've ever owned. I had earlier bought a few mechanical pens by Aristo (taking the place in my affections of those annoying old Rapidographs.) I am enjoying the whole experience. Especially because I also got a new light with nice bright daylight bulbs which makes it possible to continue working even after the sun goes down.

As we walked along the sunny banks of the river, we passed, of course, the many bouquinistes along the way. I didn't know much about these folks before reading David Downie's book Paris Paris, Journey into the City of Light, which remains my favorite book about Paris. Their profession, selling antique books and prints, as well as a lot of grotesque knick knacks, is time-honored. There is a whole history there and I highly recommend David's book so you can discover it.

My object, after visiting Charbonnel, was to go to Sennelier, one of my other favorite historic Paris art supply stores. They are both located right beside the river on the left bank, so it is a straight and charming walk the 1.6 miles (2,7 Km) between them.

Along the way you pass Shakespeare and Company. George Whitman, who took over the store from Sylvia Beach, died late last year at the age of 98. He had been living in Paris and selling books since 1946.

Anyone who's been inside knows what a crazy, wonderful place it is. It welcomes one and all and you are welcome to curl up with a book and stay all day long. This landmark will be carried on by George Whitman's daughter, also named Sylvia.

We crossed over from the left bank to the right about half way through our walk, since that was where the sun was. We used the Pont Neuf. Generally we take the Pont des Arts to cross the river (you see it in the near distance). It goes from the Academie Française on the left bank to the Palais de Louvre on the right and is just for pedestrians. However, it was nice to make a change which allowed us to get a close glimpse of this little park on the tip of the Ile de la Cité. It is a favorite place for sunning and picnicking. James had a birthday party there once.

Sennelier is a store I have talked of before on this blog. Like Charbonnel, it has been in business in the same location since the 19th century and is one of the best quality brand names in the art world. It does not sell printmaking supplies, but has the best paints, pastels and art paper that one can hope to buy.

It's a 40 minute metro ride from the center of Paris to Emily's house. We decided to take a bus back instead. Rick is good at figuring out the bus map and it's such a pleasant way to travel, as one gets a view of the city as it slips past. One uses the same ticket as for the metro. Rick figured we could catch the 48 just across the river from Sennelier and it would take us almost directly to Quinn's school where we were due to pick him up at 5 o'clock.

Traffic through the gates of the Palais de Louvre didn't seem too heavy. What a beautiful building. Passing through the smallest arch at the right of the photo

we had this pretty view. It was such a wonderful day for a walk through Paris.

***

Back home I did some experimenting with old etching plates. I left this one in the acid overnight. It was practically eaten away. I loved the print it made, being inked as a relief instead of an intaglio. It was highly embossed as well.

I suppose we're having our last fires of the season. Our winter was severe but very very short!

Noon in Paris, Midnight in Paris

Montmirail is getting decked out for the Medieval Festival, happening next weekend

Having a few days free, we took the opportunity to roll to Paris to help Emily with some projects, do some errands and, of course, see Quinn. Most day-to-day purchases can be made locally, but when I need specialty art supplies, health food items or fabric, I either go to Le Mans or Paris. This week I needed all these.

I love shopping for sewing supplies in Paris, where dozens of shops selling every kind of fabric or notion you could ever imagine, are all clustered around the base of Montmartre. In the U.S. vendors seem to have the idea that you don't want to have a shop too close to the competition. Another mindset prevails here. I can only imagine that the shop owners understand the advantage to the customer of having so many similar stores huddled together in one place and that the success of the competitor can be your success as well. Their clients are bound to pop into your shop. 

The Marché Saint Pierre is the most venerable and largest fabric emporium in Paris. I don't think it has changed much since this photo was taken. It has 5 floors of fabric with worn wooden stairways leading up and down and a small ancient elevator with a small ancient operator who calls out the floors as you ascend and descend. Tickets are hand written and rung up in the old fashioned way. The sales people are generally cranky and difficult to flag down, which only adds to the charm and quirkiness of the place. When we were there this week, we saw a tour group with a guide pontificating in English. Her band of American travelers were clustered around, hanging on her every word. It seemed amusing to me that a fabric store has become a tourist destination.

On another day we went to my favorite art store in all the world, Sennelier. which I've written about several times in this blog. The shop has been in business since the later part of the 1800s, and provided supplies to Cezanne and Picasso among others. They sell their own brand of paint and pastels, some of the best available. I went to purchase a certain kind of ink which is entirely permanent and waterproof. I know of no other place to find it.

We took the metro from Emily's to Place Saint Michel and walked down the rue Saint Andre des Arts, stopping at Paul for Lunch. The last time we were there, it was with our friends Richard and Marta, who we think about very often indeed and miss profoundly, so we paid homage to them by having the same menu item and sitting in the same dining room, looking out on the same scene. That original lunch has been the subject of excellent daydreams ever since. They have an item which begins with a nice big potato pancake, smeared with tapenade, piled high with green salad, with prosciutto ham at the top and a dollop of creme fraîche for good measure. I don't know if it was because we weren't with our friends, or if the real cook is on vacation, but the lunch we were served did not match the memory. The pancake was floppy instead of crispy, the lettuce was tired instead of happy, and the waiter was rude rather than friendly. All around us the conversations were in English. We couldn't help but feel all day that Paris is just not itself during July and August.

We strolled down the rue Jacob towards the Quai Voltaire and Sennelier, only to find that it would be closed for lunch for another half hour. No problem. The store is located right on the river across from the Louvre and the Tuileries.

The moment was particularly fine, with the sun playing hide and seek, the weather neither hot nor cold and the water an attractive gray green. The views as you cross over to the right bank are exceptionally pretty, the old bridges beautiful.

In the distance you see the Grand and Petit Palaces. You are just a few steps from the Musee d'Orsay.

 

The traffic was relatively light as most locals are out of town this time of year.

We found a quiet corner in the garden. I call this picture where to be in Paris in July.

I call this one where not to be in Paris in July. This view of the Louvre was taken from the bench we were sitting upon to await the 2PM opening of Sennelier. If you have any choice in the matter, you should not come to Paris in August, but if you must, it's better to avoid all the usual tourist spots, unless waiting in long lines and meeting many other English-speakers is your idea of fun.

I was amazed by the friendly (aggressive?) crows in the garden, which really are the size of a cat.

After the art store we raced back to the Odeon neighborhood to catch a movie in VO (original version). It's one we'd been wanting to see ever since it's big debut in May at the Cannes Film Festival... and that would be Midnight in Paris. It's called Woody's love letter to Paris and since we're every bit as smitten by this grand old city, we enjoyed every single moment. We were particularly excited when we noticed on the credits that Stéphane Foenkinos, a good friend of our neighbors Anne and Christine, was the French casting director for the film. We had no idea that he had done that work. By amazing coincidence, we had invited him over to our house on Saturday evening, as we had heard he would be visiting Montmirail for the weekend. He is a guy I immediately fell in love with the moment I met him. He is not only utterly charming and warm, but he speaks perfect English too... which in my case is a very big advantage for developing a happy relationship.

We also enjoyed watching the ultra brief scene where Owen Wilson exits the bookshop Shakespeare and Company across from Notre Dame. In November, when Rick's sister was visiting, we watched them setting up that shot. We had intended to go inside, but it was blocked off by the crew.

It was rather wonderful to exit the movie theater and actually be in Paris. In fact, having seen the film at UGC Odeon, our first sight directly across the street upon walking out was their twin cinema, UGC Danton, which also appears briefly in the movie.

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Quinn was in fine form as usual. His language acquisition skills carry on apace. He is now beginning to translate between his three languages, so obviously he seems to have the concept.

Jos did a wonderful routine for Quinn, wearing a clown nose and doing some funny business with a hat. He then gave Quinn a nose and hat too and Quinn had a crack at the gags. He is a adept pupil of performance. He probably won't grow up to be a scientist. But then, who ever knows? 

It was hard to get him to sit still for a shot. He doesn't care for being photographed.

***

Once back home we had the great pleasure of seeing the neighbors and Stéphane. We enjoyed the stories he regaled us with about working with Woody and Carla Bruni. He also brought us a catalog of a project he had created at a Paris gallery with a couple of his friends, and which we had unhappily missed, called 55 Ecrivaines. The show received rave reviews.

It really was an extraordinary idea, which began simply enough. Apparently he was at a friend's one day when he pulled up his turtle neck sweater and slouched down in an easy chair. His friend was struck by how much he resembled the French writer, Marguerite Duras. She photographed him and they both laughed about it. After showing it to several people, who all remarked on the resemblance, and encouraging the two of them to make more, they began to photograph Stéphane in the guise of many different feminine writers. The photos are amazing, as he seems to capture an essence of each writer. His face seems to be easily altered to fit his subjects. Here's just a sample of four from the book:

***

After weeks of rain, the hills are green again. Just like velvet. The weather is still mild, but sunny, warm days are predicted for the coming week. Our bird population has gone quiet. Do they think it's time to migrate already?

One of the things I miss about California are hummingbirds. We don't have them here. However, during summer months we do have this enchanting creature, a hummingbird hawkmoth. I had never seen one before moving here. He's about the size of a big moth, but for all the world looks and acts just like a miniature hummingbird.