Far from the Madding Crowd
“Far from the Madding Crowd”
coloured pencils and oil pastels. 330 x 365 mm. October 2017
If you have been to Paris, you know what Cathedrale Notre Dame is like. Its magnificence makes it a magnet for tourists. Endless queues snake towards its doors as people wait to go inside and up the tower. Like all great world tourist attractions, it is a place to steadfastly avoid.
Only five minutes’ walk from the maelstrom of humanity, across Pont de l’Archevêché and down on the riverbank of Port de la Tournelle, all is serene. The view of Notre Dame is sublime, the river Seine quietly flows, minding its own business.
So few people walk by that I have to wait patiently to compose my source photo for the drawing I want to do. Finally a few pedestrians come into view and I have my composition.
I give a prayer of thanks.
Happy Paris Anniversary
A celebration of what was, is, and what will be…
This weekend one year ago Alicia (middle daughter) and I arrived in Paris. I am celebrating the anniversary with a slice of “Opera” cake from Wild Bakery (to be eaten later) and a look at the drawings I have done so far from that inspirational trip.
Here is – basically – half an exhibition. The other half is still to come.
“Alone in the Upper Marais”
“Good Morning Paris”
“On the Road”
“Just a Moment”
“The Elegance of the 4th”
In Town Tonight
“Once Upon a Wall”
“Rhapsody in Gold”
I mentally immerse myself in Paris long after physically returning to Fremantle. I don’t wish I was still in Paris now. I am there during the creation of each drawing. Can one be in two places at once? Without a doubt.
A photo of Alicia during one of our unforgettable walks together.
coloured pencils and oil pastels. 235 x 350 mm.
Place Blanche bursts into technicolor life as dusk deepens into evening.
As I have mentioned in past posts, Place Blanche is decrepit during the day. (Perhaps it was always so, even in the late 19th century.) Iconic Moulin Rouge in daylight hours is clothed in a dreary red – a courtesan well past her prime.
However, linger until the sun goes down. Eventually the windmill’s blades start to turn. All the lights pop on and the area becomes a roaring kaleidoscope of colour. At dusk Place Blanche is transformed into an artist’s fantasy.
Surely this can’t be real?!
“Irresistible Blanche” on the easel.