Vagabond Artist

Because I fell in love. I fell in love with Benoit Arcangioli a French scientist that researches the sex of yeast at Pasteur. We met in the US nineteen years ago when he was doing research in my home town Frederick, Maryland where I was making coktails at Olde Towne Tavern. I was back in town to make some money after being in Florence. We went out some but I was in love with a Sardinian so left for Florence again. I sold my car for 400$ and bought a one way ticket.

This year on January 17th I moved to Paris 2 days precisely from my 21st year in Florence. The first month I cried my eyes out. Luck had it that I got the biggest contract of my life, three years worth of painting in nine months worth of time making huge paintings for a corporation; otherwise I couldn’t do it even if I have my outlets for my works. I was painting sunny scenes of Tuscany and Florence in this freezing ultra bohemian atelier with holes in the floor, broken glass and no lights overlooking factories in Ivry-sur-Seine in the grey rainy Paris winter weather. I cried and I painted and I spent a fortune telephoning my friends.

I left everything; a super apartment overlooking Bellosguardo a house at the beach in Baratti that has now been sold, a garage to park my car, worth gold in any city and a studio gallery in downtown historic Florence on via Ghibellina and most of all my adorable Jack Russell Terrier Lira. I miss my dog terribly, she is with my ex husband who loves her and treats her well. It is crazy to leave Florence, Italy after 21 years of wonderful life, great friends, food, weather and a super studio gallery in the historic center of the city, for love?! But hey, you only live once. Paris is not Poggibonsi and I know that the person is worth it so here I am.

All of our friends said to both Benoit and I that our story is worth a book so I’ll leave the details out.

Spring is arriving in Paris and I am meeting some people, last night I went to Patricia Laplante-Collins http://www.parissoirees.com Wednesday networking cocktail. There was an incredible young woman named Valerie Vaghn who talked about her life: born in Tahiti studied in California moved o NY, worked the stock exchange then moved to China then Japan where she created a huge company and became the top person then came to paris on her way to Dubai and she is only 30. Everyone else was very interesting with their own story worth recounting.

After two months in Paris I am inaugurating my atelier in honor of my great friends that are coming from Florence and Siena to visit. It should be a big party. Some of the other artists in the old factory are going to have their ateliers open as well. You are welcome to come.

When I was building the plastic room in my atelier I hammered my thumb. I saw stars but only after a few minutes because back in January when I was on the ladder attaching the plastic to the wooden rafters it was about 2 degrees celcius. The same day I cut my hand too. It was brutal, I was all by myself so there was no one to blame. -Go to my website if you want to see the photos of the atelier http://www.tuscany-painting.com/index.html

As hammered thumbnails will do mine is growing out. Funny I thought, it looks like the Eiffel Tower. So I decided that Paris has somehow branded me, like livestock.

Check out the photo, it is a view from the apartment on rue Saint Jacques. You can't see the Eiffel Tower from here except for on my thumbnail.

Yesterday we went with a friend of my beau who's grandfather was one of the last Russian nobles that escaped as soon as the revolution started to the buffet lunch at the Racing Club France Paris near the Parc Catelan . There were all kinds of people playing tennis but it was not very multicultural. Our friend is great because he is kind of out of control and laughs loud and drives insanely, I love it. There were birds flying around in the restaurant that no one seemed to bother about. Everyone sort of ignored one another. And I had my first crepes suzette.

After lunch we went to his 150 m2 apartment near Trocadero that is so close to the Eiffel Tower that you can almost spit on it. The apartament also has a 150 m2 terrace. He just keeps his collection of paintings there and prefers to stay in a one room place on rue Saint Jacques. Bizarre. He gave me a beautiful antique Indian piece that looks like an illustrated manuscript written in sanscrit with a painting of a man and two women.

Dreaming of the canape` with the sunshine beating down into the garage where it sits. The canape` is the latest leather couch that the guys who make designer parachute suits harvested off the streets in Ivry-sur-Seine. In Paris you can find the most amazing things just thrown out on the sidewalk. Their atelier is just to the left of the canape`. The photo is taken from my atelier. I feel like Rapunzal sometimes and want to descend from the tower. My atelier is the last one on the end at the top level. You have to make a point of going there, which for work is good.

Last week was beautiful spring weather in Paris but not today, it is wicked cold. I can't see how all the women wear flat doll shoes with no socks. It makes me cold just to think about it.

So today in the cold and windy wet weather as I painted in my atelier, I stole views of the industrial buildings and I daydreamed of hanging out on the canape` in the spring sunshine and chatting with the other artists from the factory. Perhaps teaching workshops in Tuscany wasn't so bad after all.

This morning I left the flat on rue Saint Jacques at about 10. It is hard leaving the apartament in the morning very early, I guess it has to do somewhat with being in love. I wanted to get an early start because I was going to go to Leroy Merlin a huge do it yourself store and then to the Carrefour. I think that is spelled wrongly.

I am not checking my spelling anyway because I am writing and publishing live and with the general confusion in my mind between French and the nasal pronunciation, speaking in English and thinking more in Italian with its beautiful round sound who cares about spelling.

So I went to Ivry on the Metro instead ofon my bicycle because it looked like it was going to rain and was pretty bitter cold. I walk to Les Goblins down boulevard Port Royal and then it is 15 minutes to my stop at Pierre Curie. The atelier is just outside the metro stop. Once I arrived I called one of my studio mates, Jerome, that thought might accompany me because he wanted me to get him a container of essence to run his heater. He felt obliged to come and carry it for me. I told him that afterwards I was going to the grocery store Carrefour and would probably be back not earlier thatn 13.00. So he decided not to come, smart for him.

I have been several times to Leroy Merlin in Ivry and it is easy to find but the Carrefour was another story. I got on the peripherique Exterier and missed the exit in Bercy 2 then got lost at bois du Vincennes. Driving around there was kind of interesting there are some beutiful houses and I finally realized what that giant strange thing I see from my studio is, a fake rock in an amusement park. That isvmy guess. I know that it is a giant fake rock, I don't know if it in an amusement park but it is near bois du Vincennes. But when I saw it right next to me I realized how far I had gone because from my studio it is on the Horizon. I managed to get back on to the peripherique interieur and decided to head back to Ivry because it was taking too much of my time and I only had today to finish another painting that needs to dry before I go to my art dealer Mario Cappelletti in Castellina in Chianti next weekend. I can't wait to go to Italy. It has been over 2 months since I have been in Paris.

Next weekend I will drive to Nice with my beau and we will stay at his brother's house. His brother planned a party because a friend of mine is coming to Nice to drive the rest of the way with me to Florence. His parties are notarious for finishing at 10.30 AM. Yes it is not a typo. "AM". I hope i get some sleep.

Back to today.

After getting lost again looking for the Carrefour I decided to give it one more try and found it. It is a giant grocery store in a giant mall. I walked down almost every isle looking for the things that I wanted and after about 2 hours got agitated. Finally I left with all the things I need before the vernissage on Saturday and before I return the car to Florence where my ex and Lira my Jack Russell will enjoy using it.

I did some U turns to get back to the atelier but with the Italian liscence plate I hope that the French police may have some pity on me for being lost in the banlieue. It might make matters worse though. So far so good.

Back at the atelier my studio mates Eva and Jerome helped me carry up the 20 liter fuel containers and the groceries then they came to have coffee in my place.

Yesterday Eva and her studio mate whose name I cannot remember even if she told me 15 times gave me a coffee maker that makes 10 cups. When I told my mother she said, "oh it sounds like they are planning to visit you." she was right. so at about 15.00 my work day started. I didn't do any painting but finally organized my stuff which was a good thing.

Tomorrow my best friends from Italy arrive for the weekend.

What is the banlieue? I thought it was a train station then I looked in the dictionary. You can too.

The party in my atelier was great about 40 people came throughout the evening, scientists, writers, collectors, artists. Considering the last opening I had where ony two people came it was a great turnout. See the photo.

This last weekend I went to the Orsay for the very first time. My freinds came from Florence and Siena with the overnight train from Campo di Marte to Bercy for the worst weekend. It rained and was very cold. Poor things, Monday spring hit Paris, all the girls have bare legs with short skirts, makes me freeze just to look at them.

The Orsay was great, no lines and few people. We went straight to the Impressionist painting rooms on the 5th floor. Toulouse Latrec reconfirms his place in my heart as my favorite. Manet gets me too, what technique. I was surprised at how grey the paintings were over all even the Van Goghs. In the Van Gogh room I had the net sensation that all the paintings are copies. I said this to my friends and that bothered one of them that had just spent 12 hours in a train not sleeping to see the paintings, oops. You can almost spit on the Van Goghs and they are supposedly the most important. But the Latrec's were in special glass cases in lowlighted rooms.

Friday I leave for Beaune, Lyon, Nice and then Arezzo, Florence, Giogoli, Livorno, Castellina in Chianti, and Miniera di Murlo. I can't wait !!!!!!!! Real expresso!!!! No smoky restaurants!!!!! My dog!

Either they are rubber and canvas baby doll shoes flat and covered with polka dots or they are these wicked high heel trampolines that I would just fall of of. What to do? I need new shoes, badly.

I love shoes but now have realized even after walking down Rue du Rennes, the shoe street, that anything that catches my eye is made in Italy. I am surprised also that I have less shoes than my boyfriend, amayzing. Who ordered a boyfreind with more shoes than me, that is not fair.

I must say that there is a third category of shoes it is the old matronly look, not necessarily comfortable. None of these are my style. Aside from the basic structure of these shoes they are so UGLY it makes me want to just cry.

The worst part about the shoes in Paris is that you have to wear them with bare legs and no socks if you want to look vaguely like you belong in this city. Even today, the 28th of March and a tiny bit of sunshine the women bare their legs in miniskirts with trampoline heels and no hose,bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!! Do they think that they are sexy with mozzarella white thighs and goose pimples!

I have decided that my only solution is to go to Italy to buy shoes and I have to have more shoes than my boyfriend does.

Sitting on the canape` in the flat on rue saint Jacques listening to Caetano Veloso's Perfil thinking of the last minute things that I need to take to Florence for next week. Basically everything is last minute because I didn't pack anything yet.

I looked at the meteo for the next week in Tuscany and it is 23,24 degrees Celcius far from the rainy day here in the city of light. Who ever gave that name to paris, a city so grey. Can you imagine Francis Mayes coming to Paris and buying some run down trashy Parisien flat and fixing it up under the Parisien SUN?!!

I am worried that I am going to like it too much back in Florence and not want to come back to my atelier in Ivry with the panorama on the smoke stacks and train tracks and other urban sites far from the beauty of Piazza Santa Croce where I used to go every two hours to walk my little doggy.

Why did I have to fall in love with someone so far from my dog and from Vestri's hot chocolate?

I bought a plane ticket air France to go and come back then the next day my ex husband said that yes he would like for me to bring the car back, so when i called air France they told me that if I did not take the aller flight the retour flight was null; a no show. I didn't pay the extra 8 euro to make the ticket changeable so basically threw away 250 euro.

Worried that I might get stuck in Florence (sounds enticing) being so close to Easter I bought a train ticket just in case I cannot use the air France flight back. Who knows i might drive the car back.

Yesterday I counted the paintings that I have done since i have been here 2 1/2 months 41. Twenty-four are going to Le Botteghe in Castellina in Chianti. I love Castellina. I wish I could beam me up scotty and be there right now have an expresso and beam myself back to rue Saint Jacques.

Time to pack my bag.