THE WANDERESS | DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO MOVE THROUGH
THE WORLD WITH LIGHT FEET, OPEN HEARTS
& PURPOSEFUL ACTIONS.
I booked a flight to Paris for two weeks, leaving New Years day. The year had been a tough one, in more ways then I care to elaborate on.
I saw the trip as a fresh start. No expectations, but hopeful that I could reconnect with myself, and an old fling — painting.
Vowing to leave all technology behind, I wanted to make space to make a difference. In retrospect, it was an excellent decision.
It had been a while since I last saw Paris. Unfortunately it’s known as the city of love. I was going alone, my heart mending from a recent failed encounter of love, as I sat on the plane I wondered…will this make me forget faster?
I had a beautiful flat in Paris waiting for me. I brought minimal necessities, so I could make room for the canvases and brushes that filled my suitcase.
In the past I had such a passion for painting, but over the years it was shoved aside, like so many other things.
I was forcing myself to commit to it this time — throwing all self doubt out the beautiful french door windows that shared such a lovely sliver of Paris with me.
My first morning I made my way to Magasin Sennelier, a 100 plus year old art supply shop, where the scent of old oil paint oozed from the dusty wood shelves. I went there often in the days to follow, eager to try the new colors I had discovered.
I had found my inspiration in Yves Klein’s ‘Blue’, and his concept of using the female form as a tool for expression had stuck with me.
Nakedness reveals itself. Nudity is placed on display. The nude is condemned to never being naked. Nudity is a form of dress.
So alone, in my studio, I gave it a try.
I felt my first painting should address the mixed emotions that still lingered within me. There was hesitation, but eventually I felt a release that I couldn’t help but embrace. Letting my body express my thoughts and feelings was almost euphoric.
That night I did my first painting about him titled Le Meilleur De Solitaire.
From there, more paintings began to flow out of me. I would venture out during the day, to museums mostly, coming back brimming with ideas.
The evenings were spent in a favorite cafe. Paint still under my nails as I sipped wine that turned my lips rouge, looking forward to the next day.
The time passed too quickly. I wasn’t ready to leave. I was afraid my reconnection with the canvas may be shoved aside once again.
But, I made a promise to myself. If I somehow couldn’t find the time, or lacked motivation in the coming months, I’d return to aloneness, knowing that quaint little art shop would always be there waiting.