skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I work part-time in a pigment store in Soho, so seeing earth colored rocks in Roussillon, was thrilling. Most artists don’t know where paint comes from. The art store? The Winsor & Newton factory? Not for earth colors.
Roussillon is a Grand Canyon of Ochres, Siennas, Umbers. And the whole hill top town is painted in these warm colors. Where ever you walk on the Okhra grounds signs are posted
"DO NOT PICK UP ANYTHING OFF THE GROUND!"
The rust-colored pepples are potential paint. Don't look too carefully in the top picture.
They publish little booklets you can pick up at the Louvre on Burnt Sienna. Did you know Burnt Sienna is basically cooked Raw Sienna. The pigmented rocks are stacked in a big oven and roasted until they change color.
Making paint is a lot like cooking - a tablespoon of Burnt Sienna pigment, a teaspoon of honey, a bit of Gum Arabic sap from the Acacia tree (used in those candy red fishes too), + some distilled water. Et voilà you have DIY watercolor paint.
Continuing on with my café adventures...since I was not allowed to stay behind and paint the breakfast leftovers and I did not want to paint Provence's pink houses, I made a plan for my week. I would find the local café in each village visited, order breakfast (again) and paint it on site. Café de la Poste is the only café in the beautiful town of Goult, as is often the case. You can buy lottery tickets, magazines, post cards, stamps within and outside sunbathe with your espresso on the terrasse. Nice multi-tasking. The menu @ slowtrav.com. I learned on this trip that there's no need to ask for Evian or Badoit in a café. Just say (du l'eau) and you will get a handsome glass carafe of very drinkable local water. An antique shop in the Village Saint Paul, in Paris' 4th arrondissement, specializes in antique carafes and other bistro paraphrenalia. The owner (brocanteur) at LES VIRTUOSES DE LA RÉCLAME, 5, rue Saint Paul, may be a little grumpy, but it's still well worth a look. Here's a site with pictures of other Village Saint Paul shops, even if you can't read Japanese.
The results of my efforts. Tasted very good too!
This entry is about whether I make the trip over to Typepad or stay put. I started out at Typepad & made no headway for 20 of the 30 days alloted free trial. After much tearing of hair & tears, I decided to give Blogger a try. I was up & running in 2 hours! Bravo!!! But there are a few bells & whistles missing over here & perhaps way too many at Typepad... Hmmm...
So I'm showing you my "desk top" littered with chewed chocolate, Blogging For Dummies book, favorite soothing music (not working today), Lucky Cats (also not working today) and...
A 2" high (2 3/4" when opened) sewing machine formerly a resident in my dollhouse long time ago. The little blue wheel actually drives the needle up & down!? No, the peddle does not work, nor does this sew anything. But it has survived as has it's owner. So I'm trying to stitch together this blog with the bits & pieces of my life...
This 1 1/4" garbage pail is another dollhouse remnant originally bought at Woolworths 5 & 10. It does say "GARBAGE" on the lid and the peddle used to work, but I lost an important metal pin in transit somewhere...So I'm going out to clear my head of pixels.
Cya :)
I'm a lark so I would join David A. for the 6AM run to the boulangerie in Saint Saturnin-lès-Apt for the breakfast croissants. Petit dejéuner at the workshop is never petit! Home-made apricot confiture, local honey, country butter, fresh fruit, OJ, coffee, tea, cereal, chocolat chaud, yogurt, and those still warm croissants. Eating this feast while sitting at the communal table, you can look through the open French doors to the swimming pool. And beyond, an impressive view of the Lubéron mountains.
At 9am we would go off each day to a different village to paint watercolors till noon.Then back for lunch time and more wonderful regional cuisine. Later,off again to another village. I had to tear myself away from those breakfast still lifes. If only I could stay behind to paint the jam jars and croissants...If only they didn't have to clear away all the dishes to get ready for lunch. Not that anyone thought to leave me even a crumb for my imagined still lives. Note the empty basket and devastated jam jars...
In May '05 I was given a mini assignment. While enroute to a watercolor workshop in Les Bassacs, Provence, I was to research as many Paris cafés as possible. Equipped with a Sennelier sketchbook, a camera 📸
Hundreds of photos and sketches later, I was hooked.After a week of 2-3 petit déjeuners every morning, afternoon snacks and evening apéros Running 🏃♂️ from café to café, my head was turned around. I was not ready for pretty pink houses or the village perché of Provence.