This last one served as a model for a demo linocut I started carving during the demonstrations at the crafts fair. I have more work to do once I pull a print and see what it looks like. I love coming home with a sketch I want to spend more time with and make more art from.

Paris has a surprisingly hot old time music scene, and I'm lucky enough to know several of the musicians there. Camille had invited me to go see some of her friends play, and I had a ball my next to last night there. Admittedly it was my crowd of folks, but it was also lovely to be out in a cafe (well, "Irish pub") and know five people. In Paris. It's good to feel I'm getting a set of friends there.

The band was great. The main pair happened to be Americans, though John Matthews has lived there for ages, and Ilon Moss did for a good while. They had the serious pipes to belt out a bunch of songs, unmiked, into a crowded bar. I was impressed. The bass player and guitarist (who also rang out some great Cajun songs) were French. It was such a fun evening.

I had a lot of things going the last week in Paris and didn’t get up the last sketches. I do still want to post these paintings from Auvers, though. I went back a second time because I wanted to paint more (and bigger) in the fields and because one special tree called me back, which will surprise no one who’s known me for very long. I took my bigger sketch book the second time (9x12”) and enjoyed being in the country a bit and did several watercolors in that same area where Van Gogh painted the crows over the wheat field.

This tree, arching over a narrow path, is what really drew me back. I did several different versions, and I never got it quite right, but I sure enjoyed trying.

After I’d painted a bit, I walked down to the other end of town to see Dr. Gachet’s house. Mavis and I hadn’t had the time and energy the week before. I’m so glad I did. He was an amateur artist as well as a doctor, and Van Gogh moved to Auvers to be under his care. Dr. Gachet was a friend of a number of artists, and he had two printing presses, one of which (the one Van Gogh actually used) is still in the house, and I was thrilled to see it. I had a lovely conversation with the docent, who is also a printmaker, as it turns out. We talked art about 25 minutes, all in French (she was patient with my mistakes, but I was proud of myself to have such an extended conversation, even with grammatical missteps). Once we got going, she was kind enough to remove the rope blocking the stairway and take me up to the attic art studio. Cézanne had painted there and had made Dr. Gachet move the skylight from the southern side of the house to the northern one, so there would be cool, steady light for painting. It’s a lovely space, and it was special to be there. I always feel humbled standing in the spaces where great artists have painted, and I always enjoy seeing other people’s work spaces.

Agata took my photo up there, and here is also the printing press. Just a gorgeous piece as well as art making magic.

The garden at Dr. Gachet’s is a lovely place. Small but quiet and with view out across tiled rooftops. Van Gogh had painted Gachet’s daughter there, and I found a bench in the shade to sit and enjoy the view, and I couldn’t resist painting as well.

It was a great day. I was exhausted when it was over, from travel plus five watercolors, but I was so delighted that I got back to spend more time there. It’s only an hour and a half from Gare du Nord, so it’s an easy day trip from Paris for anyone who has the extra time.

I had been wanting to get to Auvers for a while, the town where Van Gogh spent his last few months, and my friend Mavis kindly accompanied me (and guided me through the mysteries of the suburban train system). It was a powerful place to be. Vincent and his brother Theo are both buried there (thanks to Theo’s generous wife who decided they should be together), as is the church that Vincent painted which I had seen in the Orsay. We spent most of the day there, wandering and looking and sketching. From the graveyard you can walk out into the fields where Vincent painted his late masterpiece of the crows. It’s a gorgeous spot, and I sketched it in my journal, just for the thrill of being there and also because after so long in the city, it was marvelous to be in actual countryside again.

The church was covered in scaffolding as they retile the roof, but I had to sketch it as well.

I also fell, not surprisingly, for a tree, just near the site of the crows. I sketched it once and then went back the next week (I’ll post these after) to paint it again. Mavis and I also went up to the small room where Vincent lived and then died. It was a bit of a crowded tour, but I got in the room before most of the group did and was able to stand in silence for a minute and also take this photo. It was a moving place to be.

A marvelous small gallery in Paris specializing in works on paper (always a fast way to my heart) has a marvelous exhibition of up American mid century prints. They had a fabulous selection. I’m a huge fan of Jim Dine, and I loved the pair of enormous etchings (enormous for etchings, anyway — there were plenty of even larger prints in the show), both from the same plate, with a number of extra brushes added in between printings. I love the way you simply draw into a plate and can change it so radically like that. For the prints I do, once you cut something away, it’s just gone. This is like magic to me. The other thing I totally loved about the Dine pieces is that he had two also enormous prints of his bathrobe that he titled self portraits. I have a profound relationship with my own favorite bathrobes (both winter and summer), and this was genius to me.

My 20th century art knowledge is considerably less than what I know about various other, earlier periods of art history, so I was unacquainted with Rauschenberg’s “Stoned Moon” series, done in the 60’s and based on the Apollo missions. I was blown away and will have to do more research into them. Rauschenberg, Dine, and Jasper Johns were all painters who got into printmaking by collaborating with print shops that could offer their expertise and large equipment and assistants to help these artists. I felt the same relief on learning that tibit that I felt when I learned that those exquisite floating world Japanese printmakers largely worked in watercolor and then had professionals to both carve and print for them. I feel like my work is clunky next to some of the professional printmakers out there, but doing it all by hand myself is satisfying. It may not be as perfect, but it is fully mine.

I saw other, more contemporary printmakers that I would like to learn more about, including Al Taylor, whose “Hanging Puddles” charmed me. I did a small study of it, and I also did one of Wayne Thiebaud’s exquisite sugared aquatint “Candied Apples.” The sugar technique adds a gorgeous texture in person. I’ve loved Thiebaud since college, and it was fun to see a couple of his prints in person.

These were all I managed to sketch on my first visit, but I think I may well have to go and see this show a second time before leaving Paris. I walked home feeling inspired to make more art, which is always the sign of an excellent show for me.

I was so inspired I did two pieces before I even got home. I started with one page in my smallest journal of the abstract sculpture by the Solferino metro station. This was what I had hoped. I kept the watercolor to a light wash and then mixed graphite and ink (the heavier tree branches) for the foreground. It was uncharacteristic restraint for me, and I was excited.

I do know that it’s a little odd to come to Paris and paint myself, but there’s a lovely huge bathroom counter and great directional light and a largish mirror (none of which I have in my midtown, old fashioned home), so it’s an inviting place for self portraits. It’s also my 6th year here, and I feel like I’ve kind of exhausted, for now, what I’d really like to say about this place in watercolor. I brought oil pastels to try, but as much as I want to like them, I’m really not enjoying working in them. Plus Paris is also my time for self examination, and that is always literal for me, going hand in hand with self portraits as I think and plan for the year ahead. All of which adds up to a number of self portraits.

The heat finally broke in Paris, so I celebrated by walking a decent circuit of the city (over a day, with lunch and sketching and knitting breaks). It felt good to get to some of my favorite spots and just move around a bit after several pretty quiet days in mid to upper 90’s.

I had lunch and then painted in the funky Montmartre cemetery, which is now partly under a visually quite lovely overpass, even though I understand some of the neighbors weren’t happy about the addition. It adds a level of gothic funk to the cemetary that quite pleases me, though.

And I sketched my favorite door on Rue Damremont, plus a few other decorations, as I continue to think about ways to use the marvelous profusion of architectural delights in my work.

Finally, here are a couple of my favorite shots from that day, both along Rue Damremont, my old “home” neighborhood and favorite area of Paris. I loved the cafe dog.