Toujour Amour

France a love affair of countless journeys over decades I  surrender to its warm embrace and paint from my heart. A year lived  in Provence.  A walk on a 1,000 year old pilgrimage path in Languedoc.  Sojourn by aqua Mediterranean to experience colour through the eyes of Chagall, and Renoir.  “Toujour Amour” is a love of everyday France. The swoon of castle tops on The Dordogne,  or a sip of wine under a gnarled olive tree.
These newest paintings are experiences, whispered secrets in fifteenth century stone hamlets it’s slate roof tops glint in evening luminescence. Stone homes burnished, ages worn brightened in each season.  Iris, wisteria, rose, a moving tapestry of life lived to fullest.

Time lost in Fairytale hamlets and deep in prehistoric caves awakens as I stir pigment and water.  My imaginings energize on canvas.  I surrender, to the breath of ancient, myth, magic.  I vision a story, a design of simplistic line, movement of multilayered beasts rendered by 14,000 year old artists on the  walls of Lascaux.

I ask what is it that calls to be painted then feel the cord of creativity, a soul lust urges me to express and sing my experience.  Energy bubbles and yearns to be repeated through the filters of my perception, this France is a toujour amour.

Magic Carpet Ride


I Have A Dream ONE In reminiscing on my two month retreat in rural France.
Much has changed.  It is me.   France became a rich dream time unencumbered with responsibilities,  set in a familiar landscape yet isolated just enough to allow my dreaming self to emerge and be my guide.

The past ten years
It has been a roller coast ride the past ten years with upheaval of homes,  illness and death in my family and friends. This necessitates a redefining of myself. In my sixties this is the crisis time I must go through to emerge changed as I am now.

As winter draws to an end with days to leave for France, our historic century old farm house is turned over to the perfect couple eager to farm with vision and youth I had lost.
We sold our Daffodil Springs Farm,  packed a few belongings and amidst a tempest freak snow storm moved into Ganges. The last struggle of our move was almost the straw that broke the camels back. We were beaten into exhaustion, stung from financial loss and literally moving through calf high thick snow to remove the last vestiges of a life we cared to keep. Our movers had to cancel as roads were impassable. Continue reading