La Belle France    ARTIST’S STATEMENT

I paint my enduring love for France, one that hearkens back to girlhood. As a child, I was enthralled by the fairytales of Charles Perrault, the pirouettes of ballet class and by my father, whose spirited recitations of French verse made my heart beat fast. Such enchanting experiences of France still live in my heart, adding color to my art and to my life.

At the age of 12, I received my first French textbook. That dog-eared copy, with its blue, threadbare cover, became a transformative possession. I longingly gazed at the black and white photos of a 1950's Paris whose tiny characters strode across cobblestone streets towards corner cafés--baguette in one hand, "Le Monde" in the other. With awe, I pored over each noun and verb, unable to contain my excitement over the fact that "just the right combination of words" would surely lead me into this conte de fées.

To this day, I see the printed French word as an objet d'art unto itself. I often include text within the body of my paintings because I derive pleasure purely from looking at it. Besides my textbooks, I was also influenced in this regard by Belle Époque and Art Nouveau advertising posters, where a short phrase is embellished with lively characters and adornments galore.

My penchant for ornamentation comes from having worked in the antiques field. I've gained an appreciation of patina and texture and often employ a trompe l'oeil technique to achieve these effects. With gaieté de coeur, I relish portraying such marvels as the crumbling stonework of a façade, the intricate stitching of boutis embroidery or the splintery reeds of a panier.

There is very little difference between what is on my easel and what is in my life. Each week, I converse en français with my Francophile friends. We call ourselves "Les Boulangers" because we meet in a local bakery and café. At home, my bookcases are stuffed with French cookbooks and travel memoirs. There's a Provençal cloth on the kitchen table and maps of La Dordogne on the wall. An 18th century French altar gate hangs above the couch.

Many years ago I had the thrill of studying in France. Later, I honeymooned there. This was the real fairytale. With a sense of déjà vu, we held hands and strode across cobblestone streets towards delightful corner cafés.

To celebrate a recent wedding anniversary, my husband and I visited nearby Montréal. This city exudes an irresistible French flavor. Arm in arm, we strolled through la vieille ville while I pointed to French shop signs and proudly pronounced them out loud. Reaching our destination, Le Marché Atwater, we joyously and hungrily embarked on a tantalizing search for delicacies. We spread our bounty on a riverside picnic table: baguette, chèvre, paté de canard and an abricotine to share for dessert. With joie de vivre, we toasted our happiness.

With The French Easel, I toast the essence of French experiences and traditions, wanting to share the soul of this wonderful world with you.