Stars have been a theme of this trip. There's a stunning Vincent portrait with a starry background in the Orsay. I did a copy of it in the spring, so I don't have it with me to post, but it has continued to speak to me. I saw a lovely modern etching in a gallery window of a boy surrounded by and wearing stars. Just last night there was a watercolor portrait with a starry background in the art of animation show I went to see. I had already sketched a small statue of a boy holding one star up on a pole, and I found a charming dress with constellations on it several days ago. We are now in the midst of the Perseids, and then walking home last night I was gobsmacked by the shining half moon. I've been meaning to try a self portrait a la Vincent, and last night seemed like the night. I also had to add the moon, since I watch her so much and almost always wear my moon pendant.

It was a cloudy day yesterday, so I decided to do an indoor painting I'd had in my mind. I did a couple of journal sketches of Les Nymphees last time I came to Paris and decided I'd like to do one for the fall show as well. It's a stunning place to sit and paint for a while.

I moved to the other side of the room to do a quick journal sketch afterwards, and I met some lovely people in the process. An elementary school teacher with a small flock of students asked if she could show them my work, so she talked a bit, and I got to practice my French with the kids.

As that was happening, a budding young artist from Wisconsin was looking on and very interested, so I offered him my sketch journal (carnet de voyage in French, as the teacher was saying) to look through. He sat for ages, asked me questions about various ones, talked about the museums he'd seen here (he's just spent a year in Spain with his family), and promised to send me a drawing or two of his own. That meant a lot. I love seeing young people excited about art, and his dad was really supportive. I was lucky that way too.

I took a late afternoon/early evening walk after the museum, which felt great. First I stopped and sketched from my favorite bridge over the Seine (pedestrian with benches, so nicely quiet except the guy hawking the padlocks that sadly damage the bridge as they're left by tourists) and then sketched a couple of statues on the way home. One in a gallery window and one in Luxembourg gardens. I keep sketching this one. I find that one of the ways I say hello to "old friends" is to sketch them again as I return.

I've been in and out of this museum a bunch since I bought an annual pass. I'm greatly enjoying getting my money's worth out of it. I tend to pop in for one section or another, do a sketch or two, cruise by a favorite painting or two, and go do something else before wearing down. Today I did a sketch of the actual building (above). Here are some of the recent painting studies.

I adore how many paintings there are of women with their dogs. One reason I love this place, I'm sure. There's one room that has three by Vuillard alone. Many are small dogs, but I totally fell for this lovely large one.

Here's a delightful, loose Cezanne with a man and a dog. (I promise im not choosing these paintings purely because of the dogs.)

One of my favorite spots is the art nouveau section tucked away in the back corner. I've really fallen for Vuillard here, and there are lovely Rodins, a stunning Klimt, a Munch, and some beautiful Scandinavian art. As well as some stunning furniture, including this chair with bunny arms. I so want it!

I got myself a yearly membership to the Orsay, delightfully called a Carte Blanche, this spring, knowing I would be coming back for another chunk of time. I am really enjoying being able to duck in and out. I met my friend Carol there yesterday and did a bit of sketching while she looked around.

I sketched this Monet (not really getting all the colors right) because I liked the gentler value contrast in it. I had an idea for a lighter overall print of my
park just before I left, and here is Monet painting his park in lighter colors as well. I wanted to spend a little time looking deeply.

I've been thinking about trying to slow down a bit in Paris. I was going flat out before I left and will have several months of the same this fall when I get home. But it's hard for me to ease off that much. I wrote two pages' worth of what I hope to do here in my journal.

I did do my first watercolor on Friday, my first full day. I was afraid the window display might change, and I love how it coordinates with the door and street signs. But the arrival of my friend Carole has slowed me down. We had a lovely long walk and dinner last night at my favorite creperie. Today I'll hear Stephen and Rene play music at my favorite market and then meet Carole for some more exploring. It's nice to have some friend time to ease into a long trip mostly on my own.

I got to Paris today and started out right, settling in with tea. I had started the journal on the plane with a simple sketch of a new print of the Greensward (hopefully a companion piece to the phlox) that I woke up with. I figured if I put it there, I would still remember it when I got home after a bunch of other art.

Then in a effort t stay upright, I went out walking and got some lunch to eat on a park bench.

I also walked a loop and visited a couple
of my favorite spots -- Luxembourg gardens (specifically the statue of Genevieve) and the Musee d'Orsay. I got myself a "carte blanche" when I was here in the spring and plan to use it a lot. And, as one friend pointed out, how often are you given carte blanche anyway??

I went to the Memphis Brooks museum today to see an exhibition of sky scapes by one of Memphis's finest artists, Veda Reed. She was a long time teacher at Memphis College of Art, and she was a deeply kind mentor to me when I got started on my painting career.

Veda's show is amazing, and if you're in Memphis, I hope you get a chance to go see it. One thing made me crazy, though. The text panel that accompanied it said, "It may seem conservative to be making landscapes in the twenty-first century..."

Seriously??  That seems to diminish the whole show, not to mention a great deal of the Brooks collection, and certainly the work I spend my life doing. My favorite painter John Constable was belittled as far back as the 18th C for being a landscape painter instead of doing "deeper" history and religious paintings. Are we still marginalizing landscapes as not being deep enough? Do we really have to put down landscapes in the chase after the modern concept or the avant guard? Can't we value all of it? (I also ran into this bias in my printmaking class at MCA a few years ago, though that was just one teacher.)

In a lovely coincidence, there's an article on Chuck Close in the NYT today. He was talking about feeling alienated from the NYC art scene because he's still a painter instead of a conceptual artist. He thought about changing to conceptual work after a medical condition left him largely paralyzed, and then he said, "But I was going to miss the activity of pushing paint around. So pretty soon, I thought, I'm going to get the paint on the canvas if I have to SPIT the paint on the canvas."

I LOVE that!

 Yay for Chuck Close for standing up for hands-on art making as a craft and the time honored tradition of painting. I've long known that I wouldn't fit in to the faddish New York art scene, but it was deeply disheartening today to see a placard in the museum by my house diminishing the art of landscape painting. I ended up writing a letter to the new director.

On the upside, she is working hard to create a more welcoming atmosphere among the guards and staff, and no one stopped me from sketching today, and everyone was quite welcoming. That's definitely progress.

My next to last day in Paris was a lovely transition for the next bit of my trip. I had seen a poster for an exhibition of Dutch landscape drawings, so I set off to find it. There's a Dutch institute in Paris, which I am delighted to know about. They had a gorgeous landscape exhibit, and also a show of recent Dutch printmaker Jozef Van Ruysdevelt.

I did two sketches (looking at skies) in the landscape show. Huge, glorious watercolors and wash drawings.

I didn't draw in the print exhibit, but I did buy the catalog, which did my suitcase no favors at all. Given that the language choices were French and Dutch, I figured it would not be available at home. I also took a picture of his sketchbooks displayed in a glass case, which gave me a thrilling flashback to my Dixon show last fall. And I love seeing people's sketchbooks now that I'm having such fun keeping my own.

One of the amazing things about Paris, besides the bakeries, is the museums. It's marvelous for an artist to be able to go sit and look and sketch stunning works of art. I visited the Orangerie the other day. Walking into those two oval rooms of enormous water lily pieces that completely surround and engulf you is a stunning experience.

I did a first sketch of the room at large, going for impression instead of accuracy in rendering the actual paintings.

Then in the second room, I did a more intensive study of maybe my favorite of the works. It's darker than most, with subtle tonal changes, and I loved the process of looking deeply enough to try to copy it.

Finally here is a Klimt study I did Friday at the Musee d'Orsay. I must have had extra patience that day. I had already done two highly detailed watercolors, and this is the painting that called my name to sketch ad I wound down. I love Klimt's richness and texture, and when he does trees and landscapes, I swoon.

I walked home utterly, fizzingly happy. Painting in Paris is such an amazing thing to get to do. I am extremely lucky in my travels.

It was cloudy and damp again today. I did a morning piece sitting inside a bakery I found a rare one with a table for customer, and it was charming enough to paint. A double win.

After lunch and tea to warm up again, I went downtown to L'Orangerie. It's a sister museum of the Musee D'Orsay, mostly known (and rightfully so) for it's two rooms of enormous wraparound Monet waterlily paintings from late in his career. It's stunning to walk into those oval rooms and be completely surrounded.

There are handily benches in both rooms, so I could sit and sketch easily. It was such a treat and an honor to be able to do that. The first one was more a sketch of the room as a whole, and the second is a more serious copy of one of the panels. I love the few light blossoms floating in a complex darkness.