Grandma's Treat or Another Grand Day Out.

I'm the 'Grandma' element of a family outing to Moncontour when my daughter and family come to stay in summer. It's a fortified medieval town on a rocky outcrop.
Mr. Price and I have worked here in the past, painting medieval style windows, often copied directly using images from the time.
As we stroll round the town I point out out the few that remain- there's even a brothel scene from the Middle Ages. This is painted on the window of the PMU bar, only yards from the church- someone I know took great delight in sneaking that one in!
We indulge in expensive cakes from the Patisserie and climb a steep street to look out over the ramparts. I show the grandsons Probably the Smallest Front Door in the World, then we set out for the nearby village of Tredaniel.
Just on its outskirts is the small chapel of Notre Dame du Haut, home to The Seven Healing Saints
These are polychrome wooden effigies, and can cure many illnesses... colic, headache, fears, dogbites, sores, eye-ailments and one for ease of childbirth. Here also, there are plaques to give thanks from the healed..and here we find a weird letter hidden in a niche, praying for the favourible outcome of a court case with the writer's neighbour.. spooky!
There are candles burning, and the boys buy one each to light, declaring it's "against Fear!", which is understandable when you're only seven or nine.
Outside once more, into the sunlight and away from the gloom of superstition, the others trek into the nearby wood to look at the sacred fountain. There's a 'pardon' to here from the chapel every August.
I clamber up a grassy bank to paint. It's a sweet enough scene, so I limit my colour to better express the drama of this ancient place of worship, washed in sunlight with its dark background of trees.
The boys are back and climb up beside me.. "Sam fell over!" "We saw a nest!"..."Draw me, Grandma Caroline!"Pictured: the view from the ramparts; steep steps in Moncontour; Notre Dame du Haut.

The Roar of the Greasepaint, the Smell of the Crowd

A van goes through the village, loudly announcing a circus close by- this very afternoon!
On my way back from Lidl I suss out where they've encamped and spot a bench perfect for sketching just across the road.
It's windy but sunny day, Mr. Price is game, so after lunch we head off.
Travelling circuses are small affairs round here- more of your 'Small Top', but the place is bright with colour.
We can hear the show from our bench, apparently it's an extra two Euros if your child wants to circle the ring on a pony... and another fifty Euros if they want to dismount and go home with their parents after the show...ha-ha, je blague, bien sur!
A clown rushes in and out, we can see a camel, ponies, a llama and a donkey, but there's no sign of the elephants painted on the side of the trucks, and the only trumpeting is from the piped music.
We're disturbed at one point by a pair of Bretonnes and have to move along the seat for a while. They're elderly ladies coming back from the graveyard- a favourite activity in these parts... I knew this would be Someone's Bench!
Being a couple of artists out sketching together puts me in mind of The Fast Show's 'Johnny Nice Painter'- and I strongly recommend you watch this before you continue reading.

A dapper French man in a hat approaches and peers over my shoulder, commenting that only the English seem to go out sketching.
Out with the paints.. I've worked up the drawing- and fixed it- on watercolour paper with a disappointingly scratchy conté crayon, go in with colour and then more drawing.
It's a lovely scene, with the bright reds and yellows of the vans, cages and the tent itself, and the
shouts of les enfants within... Mr Price turns to me and says "what colour are those tyres, darling, the ones in the dark shadows over there?"

Pizzapics!

As mentioned in my blog for December 2008, I have five paintings reproduced as sound-absorbent panels in Pizza Express on Salford Quays.

A trip to the North-West means that myself and my accomplice Mr.Price have the opportunity, at last, to see the artworks. At the restaurant we explain why we're there and are whisked off by a waitress to a table for two... “I'm sure we can do something for you!” she says, and later assures us that “Manager says no charge for meal!”

The paintings look bigger than I though they might, and it's really strange to see them-my very own pictures! installed in public....eek! I feel pleased, proud, and oddly humbled.

Our lovely waitress, between the pizza and the ice-cream, tells us how much she likes the artworks, and how popular they are, and, after the coffee, says goodbye to both of us with a big hug and a kiss.

Mr. Price says he's so glad he met me.... having supplied him with a free meal and kisses from a pretty young lady!

Next stop- and just across the piazza- The Lowry, where we just have time to watch the excellent documentary on L.S. It's a moving portrait of a lonely man... without who my Pizzapics would never have seen the light of day- thank you, Mr. Lowry!

Grave Concerns!

Yesterday- despite the showers- I was determined to get out to do some sketching round the village.
The cemetery's a quiet place- no-one here's going to come and look over my shoulder at what I'm drawing- hopefully!
It starts to rain just as I've chosen a suitable spot, so I shelter under the huge dark yew tree in the corner, sitting on a soft carpet of needles. Here, I'm obliged to draw pretty much what's in front of me, so I go for what I think could be a dramatic composition, with the nearest cross looming large in the right-hand foreground.
I've stuck some Canson paper on a couple of pages in my book, and decide to work tonally on this coloured ground, in pen, black watercolour and white gouache.
The size of the cross means it's big enough get the inscription readable on the page.
Poor Joseph Sourdaine - at least his mother died in 1911, before he was killed in action in the First World War...such grim and sobering thoughts. And now the sky is massing its own storm-clouds, accompanied by distant thunder-so I gather up my bits and pieces and hasten down the street to home and a cheering cup of tea.
I finish off the sketch at the kitchen table, just the sky to fix, really, and I stop when I think it's
suitably Gloom-and -Doomy!

Sketches: Brittany July and March 2009.

A Grand Day Out

It's another lovely day in Devon, but poor Mr. Price has a frieze and some lettering to paint at Archway Bookshop in Axminster.
I leave him to his lonely task and decide to have the day out. He'll be ok, it's his birthday, I've tipped them off at the bookshop- and there's to be a cake!
I look at the map and Forde Abbey isn't far off.
It's just in Somerset... I follow two cars while another follows me, all heading for the Abbey down ever narrowing roads until everyone arrives for opening time.
Once through the shop and entrance there's a huge walled garden with sumptuous vegetables fit to make anyone relinquish their allotment...I can't spot anywhere to sit and draw so I take photographs.
Behind a big gate, however ('Please close as the chickens like the vegetables') is a good place to sketch. It's the back of the abbey- with said chickens and people dotted about the lawns taking tea from the restaurant ('Please shut the restaurant door as the chickens like to come inside for tea').
I do a passable pen drawing and then try to get the lovely warm colour of the stone. Sandstone, says one of the attendants later.
There's lovely pottery in the old crypt, and there's a pretty view, too, from the ladies' loo, but I can't linger in here, it would be selfish..what with all those elderly tea drinkers... I take a quick photo instead.

From the front, the abbey's quite stunning and I sit on a distant shady seat to draw the facade. It's got a lot of 'knobs on' and damn! I've missed out a bit of 'stringing'!

The Abbey interior is chocca with tapestries, paintings and fine furniture. I'm impressed by the huge four-poster bed in The Oak Room. The attendant tells me that when there's a recital on at the Abbey, "this is where the musicians sleep". In my mind's eye I see a string-quartet tucked under the covers, top to toe, with their instruments lying on the pillows next to them... such a pretty picture- what did he mean exactly?!!
Feeling like a rest after two heavily architectural pictures and the trek round the house, I do a quick watercolour of the garden topiary, but just in black.



That's enough, so I go for another cup of tea- even more people about now- then head off.

Back in Axminster, Mr.Price has eaten birthday cake, but has also produced a pretty frieze in the bookshop's children's department. Well done- now we're off for a meal at the Otter Inn, but not until we've changed out of our paint-spattered clothing!

It was only twenty four hours to Preston...

Friday 12^th June. After a wearisome 24 hour journey from Poitou-Charente we change into our glad-rags in a back street of Preston and are cheered and revived by the UCLAN Fine Art Degree Show's private view.

We meet friends and family- hello to Jude, Bob, Sam, Dan, Roo, Steve and the boys, Wendy, Vincent and yes! we'd like a plastic glass of Bowland Dragon full bodied golden bitter with rounded fruity hop flavours........

......while being reminded by tutor Dave Alker that Al and Bob's degree show (twenty years ago in 1989) was the first to take place in the Hanover building.

It's photo opportunity time for yours truly, with the stark white walls, artworks and Artyfarty Folk milling around.

Here's a taste of the evening- sorry, the beer ran out earlier!

To The Chateau Borne, Part Three

By the time this
is published I'll be ensconced at Chateau l'Age Baston
for my fourth year, tutoring the
Art Course there.












I'll let these pictures from previous years speak for themselves.


Back soon!