Working at the Cité des Arts

In many ways coming back to my little space at the Cité after a festive, people filled, week in Pouilly and St. Tropez was a nice relief. I’m enjoying it here and I very much like the lack of imposed structure.

That’s what I wrote a week ago, and I still think it holds true. Since returning from St. Tropez, I have had several sessions in the atelier gravure (the print studio) here and am getting into a good work routine making prints. I am also finding images I would like to make with the special foods in the markets and a scanner so I am scouting out ways of doing those without my usual equipment. Dealing with the language and communication differences and the fact that people just do things differently here as well as the complications that inevitably occur just finding what I need have all become part of the fun/challenge for me. I often alternate between being frustrated and over stimulated . When I can successfully solve problems, I love it. So far so good but then I have no really finished products yet that I am ready to show. I am enjoying the process.

The print studio is a wonderful, old, space with a single press, an acid room, an old- fashioned aquatint box, hot plates, burners for melting rosin and many large tables. The arrangements are such that one pays for two weeks of use at a time at the Cité. Separately one meets with all the artists who have signed up to use the studio on Fridays at noon to decide who gets to use the press when the next week. Each person can have 8 hours in two four hour blocks each week with two more hours if there are not too many people. People can use the basic studio at any of the times it is open (9-9 daily). The press, however, is reserved for the person who is signed up for that particular four-hour slot. Everyone is quite respectful of this and the press is used by only one person at a time.
None of the other artists I have met working in the atelier gravure live at the Cité. It seems that artists in Paris can pay the fee to the Cité and come to work here. I have met quite a few interesting people this way.

Everyone who works in the print studio brings his or her own supplies. These include plates, blankets for the press, colored inks, tools, paper, towels, a few blotters and acid. Staples such as black ink, space for pressing finished prints, solvent, alcohol, gasoline for the burners and some rags are provided. There are some old blankets available but I was told that they were soiled. When I tried using them with a protective paper between my printing paper and the blankets (to keep the paper clean) I found that they were also cut and so they made unwanted embossing marks in my prints.

In need of many supplies for working, I have made many excursions to art supply stores, some more successful than others. Buying new blankets was an opportunity for an adventure into a Chinese neighborhood in the periphery of Paris. I learned more about the metro, managed to walk the wrong way for about half a mile in cold wind and rain and negotiated the whole thing in French as part of the experience.

My other project, the legumes I wanted to make into images, has posed different challenges and I am still in the middle of dealing with those. Technology and services are truly different here. I found the scanning possibilities scarce but once I found a bio market and a place to take my asperges and artichauts for scanning, people there were especially helpful. Much more service is included in the much higher price for doing this than at home and I am appreciating it. There was some confusion between dpi and dpcentimeter at first and I may have done the scanning at too low a resolution. This problem is hopefully on its way to being solved. What is especially unusual is that the man at the photo studio has come here to see me rather than ask that I return again to his shop which is two metros and 45 minutes away. Very special, I think.

 

Pouilly, St. Tropez

Its been a long time between entries here. It has been longer than I had planned it would be.
Three weeks into my Paris existence, now that I am adjusting to it, I am finding less time for sitting and reflecting and for making entries here. Life in France is continuing to be filled with unexpected adventures. I seem to be happily allowing each to interrupt my good intentions.

Last week the trip to the Loire, Rouen and St. Tropez took me off my schedule for working, and although it was an enriching week away in many ways, I felt as though I had vacationed, and of course I had. When I arrived back at the Cité on Thursday night, it was time to get my nose back to the job at hand. There were only four days until my big visitor would be coming and I wanted to get a lot of work done before his arrival so I could give him my undivided attention. I booked Saturday, Sunday and today, Monday, in the print studio here at the Cité. This meant that each day would be totally consumed with making art. More on this later.

Last week was truly special. Friends who are Parisian, the Joly family, invited me to their country home in the Loire for the weekend beginning May 12. When they learned about a festival happening in St. Tropez which was to occur early the next week, they asked me if I wanted to go directly from Pouilly sur Loire to St. Tropez with them and stay at their brother's for a few extra days. Who would stay no to that?
Not me! I packed my bags and off we went.

Pouilly is beautiful and the Jolys have a house that faces the river and the sunset, which was especially spectacular that Friday night. Pouilly is a center for wine production and famous for the wonderful white Loire whites (made from the Sauvignon grapes that grow there, among others) of Pouilly Fumé and Sancerre. We did a lot of tasting and contributed to the celebrations in St. Tropez by bringing 18 bottles of Pouilly Fumé from one vineyard there to the household where we stayed the rest of the week. The Loire region is also special for chevre, for white asparagus and acacia honey. We did some serious shopping at farms around Pouilly for these things and also some delicious tasting.
Buying from a farmer- friend is much more than a simple business deal in the French countyside, I learned. The visiting, the conversation about family and friends and about what has happened since last there is part of the purchase. This is all done with much socializing, taking many hours. Slowing down is essential. The tempo is very different from my usual.



When we got to St. Tropez on Sunday night, after a wonderful lunch stop at a family home in Rouen and a long half day’s drive, the Bravade, or yearly celebration of the 16th Century discovery of St. Tropez, was about to begin and it did so the next morning, very early. (http://www.ot-saint-tropez.com/fr/vicult/trad.htm) We awoke to sounds of a marching band and the whole town in costume. There was music, dancing, parading, eating and drinking for three days straight from 8 AM until at least 11PM. Whole families were in costume, all participating in this religious and military holiday. The entire town was decked out in red, white and blue, the shop windows even featured red and white decorations (like red underwear) and we were given little red and white bouquets to carry as spectators. I just happened to have packed a red shirt. Who would have known?

I knew the terrific little museum in St. Tropez, L’ Annunciade, (www.ot-saint-tropez.com/fr/mus/ann.htm) and wanted to get a glimpse of the permanent collection which I knew included work by Signac, Bonnard, Matisse, Derain and many other French painters who had loved and worked in St. Tropez. Also I planned to make some photographs and some drawings as well as get intense practice in French. No one would be speaking anything else the whole week. The last happened in earnest. I was truly immersed in the language, at first understanding probably one third of everything that was discussed. The last day was a little better and the evenings, after a few glasses of Pouilly Fumé, were the best.

Unfortunately, last year at the Bravade, twenty-five significant paintings were stolen from the Musée de l’Annunciade so it was closed during the festival this year. There was no way to get inside.
I concentrated on my photographs.

Here is Mardi

I’m finally getting the idea that I will not write in this blog every day. I will try to have what I write be very specific but not comprehensive. If I tried to record everything and publish it, it would not only be boring to read and too much, but totally exhausting for me. As is usually true for me, there are too many interesting things. From la langue to le vin, the cheese, the bread, the markets, the Cité itself, the people I have met, the paintings and photography I have seen and plan to see….oops. I just remembered an opening happening tonight, and also a concert. Downstairs I go.

That was a concert by an American Pianist, Ivan Ilic (from Palo Alto), and a Taiwanese young woman bassist (contrabasse). Not together. The bassist, Emilie Kuo, had an accompanist from Finland for some of her music and played solo for the rest. She was fabulous, and had a magical presence, a tiny and graceful woman with a huge instrument. I had not heard bass alone before except for the Ray Brown solos I had heard at Jazz at the Bistro so never before with classical music. The music she played was beautiful and it was definitely one of those rare, special nights.
Ivan Ilic was the first other American I have met here.

Today was also the first day of French class at the Cité for me. I had been told that this was the place to meet other people and it was. In the class were people from Norway, Germany, Brazil, Australia, Finland and Israel. I had expected the diversity but I had not been prepared for the magic of the class. The teacher was a blonde, sexy and extremely animated young woman. She had everyone spellbound (especially the men) and for the two hours did not speak a word of English, explaining her French only in French. Everyone learned, and began, I think, to understand how to learn which I think she would say is by plunging in. Avoir la confiance, Yvette!, my tutor in the French department, Olivier, would say to me.

I made a small drawing and worked on some monoprint plates. Ideas are forming, and I’m taking some pictures. Two of the many things that resonated with me today were the fantastic fat, white asparagus which are so unique here and now in season. I had five for dinner but I also have them, visually, in my head. The other beautiful and unusual thing I saw today was the fresh magenta garlic. I am looking for something unique to this culture and place to work on. The flying buttresses were OK too.

Thursday, 4 Mai. The Day

Its Friday morning and I’m finally finding time and energy to pare down and distill the myriad of happenings related to my entry to Paris. Each day has been too much. I slept well, from exhaustion, the first night here and since then it has been nonstop over-stimulation with little ability to yoga breathe myself back to sleep. Last night was an improvement.

Yesterday, because I got up earlier, may have been the most packed so far. I started off with a trip to the Bastille market with views along the way of shops I wanted to go back to which were closed because it was not yet 10 am. The market was less than I thought it might be but the highlight was a fantastic flapper (probably at least 80 years old) dancing to the loud and peppy music of young musicians (her grandchildren?) one on wind instruments and the other on a little piano he had brought to the scene. Pictures!


I returned to the Cité with my few vegetables and fruits by way of an English bookstore (The Red Wheelbarrow) where I picked up The Paris Times which said that the Bonnard show would be closing on Monday. Since I hoped to go at least twice, I decided to make that my Thursday afternoon activity. But first I wandered into the print shop in the Cité, just to see what printing here might be like, to get the lay of the land, so to speak. There I met an artist from India, Anjou, who said that she was having an opening at gallery in the 7 arr. that night. I made a mental note to go to the opening.

The print shop was one large room with one medium sized press, about the size of the one I have on the Cape. There were little tables set up all around and people kept their materials under the tables and in small lockers. A lot like art school. There was a rosin box with a crank and bags of rosin belonging to the studio and two heating mechanisms for melting the rosin, once the powder had fallen on the plate. One was an alcohol burner, something I had never seen before. For printing in this shop, one was obliged to buy his/her own blankets, plates (of course), tarletin and acid. I did not see any ventilation. Two people told me it was overcrowded there, and that there would be a meeting each Friday at noon to divide the schedule up for the following week. This was the way to avoid chaos, to plan who would be printing when. One could use the shop to work on plates at any time, but would have to use the press only during hours allotted during that meeting, the Friday before. None of the artists there were living in the Cité now but were residents of Paris and supposedly had been at the Cité at one time or another.

I went back to the Cité to schedule for and pay for the usage of the shop the weeks of May 15 and 22. I decided I needed a week to get organized and buy materials for this if I were really going to do it.

Then I headed to the Modern Art Museum for Bonnard. It was about 2 PM.

Finding the museum on the metro, getting in (which was easier with my Cité museum card) and going through it slowly and carefully took until about 5:30 pm when the Museum was closing. Then there was a vernissage, an opening, for Anjou which was to begin not before 6:30. I decided to get there slowly. I took a metro and walked, stopping at an outdoor café for a Perrier. This was near the Rodin Museum, where I had been many times before, on other visits to Paris.

It was a nice opening. Anjou was one of three artists showing and two of her pieces, a large yellow and green abstract painting and a print, had already been sold. I read about her there and learned that she had been born in India, had spent a lot of time in Paris and also had been a student of Hayter. She was a year younger than I. Surprising to me was that her work was selling for less than mine. Since she seemed like a very established artist, I wondered how she supported herself. I learned that this was the third show she had had this year.

Walking back to the Cite (an hour and a half walk +for me) filled the rest of the day. I walked over my favorite bridge in Paris, le Pont des Arts, a wooden walking bridge between the Ecole Des Beaux Arts and the Louvre. Here I saw lots of activity, including a group of young people sitting on the wooden bridge, with bagettes and wine, having a magnificent supper.



Walking through the traffic, I got to the apartment at about 9PM and ate some of the veggies I had bought in the Bastille along with some prepared chicken from Rue St. Antoine (one of Gary Tenenbaum’s terrific recommendations) and drank some of my FranPrix Muscadet. So Parisian!