I returned from our wonderful week in Provence over a month ago. It was a fun time for all.
And it looks like we're going to do it again next year. So time for a summation, and moving on.
Although I enjoyed every one of the many trips to rustic towns, and wine tastings, and effulgent
meals, and camaraderie with my new friends, on a very aesthetic and personal level, there were two
excursions that took the Artist in me to hallowed ground. Here I am in the studio of Paul Cezanne,
Everywhere we went in town one encountered signs announcing "The Trail of Cezanne."
And here is the master, exiting his studio; in the last known picture taken of him.
When I was in art school and for many years afterwards, I did not have a clue of what Cezanne's
paintings were about. And although I took the course at the Barnes Foundation, I'm still at work,
in my attempts to digest the totality of meaning in his paintings. But I do know he was a revolutionary
genius, and marched to his own drummer, and influenced artists who followed in his footsteps, since.
Not many footsteps beyond his studio (about one half a mile) is a hill from which he painted many
of the views of his beloved "Mont.Saint Victoire."
And here I am, playing "Tourist," with the Mount in the distance. At one point Picasso bought
a piece of land that had a view of the mountain, and he supposedly proclaimed "I now own
anyone who knew him or his art, would have thought of him as such. This is a sculpture of my friend and mentor (I have many) Vincent Van Gogh. It is on the pathway leading into the grounds of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole, the sanitarium in St.-Remy where he voluntarily admitted himself.
And that same courtyard today. A space for contemplation.
Here are three more water colors done by me while under the spell of Provence.
And this week of wonderful experiences would not have happened without the enthusiasm and
planning of my dear, dear friend, Ellen.
Merci Ellen, and au revoir!