12"x12", oil on canvas. Its not really a thimble but some other small shiny thing. While I was working on another painting, an interior of a flower shop, from photos and sketches I noticed the violets in a little corner of a photo. I remember seeing them and wanting to paint them at the time. They came back to me like an unexpected gift. This is more of the work from my time with E. in Paris. (Other posts from those trips are here and here). I feel like Bonnard and Vuillard are there in the patterns.
12"x12", oil on canvas. In Paris this May E and I bought lots of flowers for the apartment, this painting is from photos we took on our last morning there: peonies in a yogurt jar, catching the morning light from an open window while the rest of the room remained dark. See E's sketch here. Available here.
Still life with Brioches (on the left is the Alsatian version called a Kouglof).
I worked back into these paintings, begun in Paris. 8"x10", gouache on cradled panel, varnished. The two below (Lilac, Euphorb, Peonies-pink and red- and a fiery red/fuchsia fluffy something made up the bouquet) are available at Studio Hop.
Still life with green apples and Monet postcard.
Delacroix's Garden (sold) was painted from sketches E. and I did together on the spot and back at the apartment, with Irises added from the Tuileries. She may post her gouache version here. I am drawn to both the formal and the emotional aspects of figures in gardens and am anxious to explore it further (again with this idea, figures in the garden but also time). Drawing with E., to whom figures come so readily, was a shot in the arm.
I dreamed last night I was lost in the dark, cold underground catacombs of Paris. The word "dank" is the right word. ... I was trying to find my way up and out and back to my fancy pink hotel but could not even remember its name. along the way I was taking photographs of other lost things--- animals, letters, and even some children. It was scary, but no more scary than being fully awake in this world, and almost as beautiful.
When I finally found my way above ground everything was very colorful and loud and I found an old lady watching a parade. I asked her how to get back to my hotel and she shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, ma chère." And then she smiled and said, "I've been here, watching this parade, for a long time. And one thing I've learned, the wind will not tell you the way."