Ducks Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 14 x 11 inches

Orange Bark Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 18 x 24 inches

This is the tree Harika most likes to chase the squirrels into. It used to be it was short enough the squirrel would have to be there, but this summer it grew to the height of the church roof....

Purple berries, yellow leaves Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 12 x 24 inches

Tree Trunk M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 24 x 48 inches



We've been traveling and planning art/food tours in Paris! A show in Wooster, Ohio is also keeping us busy.

Three blue M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 24 x 24 inches

ARTNOTES: Finding the Heart of High Point Market

High Point Market was a success for a few key showrooms with design and heart. Yes, heart. People don’t buy furniture from companies: people buy from other people. It is the belly-to-belly connection which seals a sale, and makes the customer want to come back to that showroom again. It’s one thing to buy a book on Amazon.com, but it’s another to see the lavender in the background of a painting. A fellow salesman described a painting to me: “I can see how the brush laid the paint on the canvas and each stroke takes my breath away.” It’s not the same online, ordered from abroad.

Business, in general, seemed to be slightly brisker than in April. A good friend, at an uptown showroom, sold two 40-foot containers of furniture the first day. People who came to market came to buy, and all the invitees we saw, but one, bought a painting from us. Traffic was off, is all.

This market we were once again camped out at the far end of the complex. Last spring, the showroom owner announced we would relocate to a more mainstream location; it wasn’t until August we learned they opted to stay put. We couldn’t back out –like telling someone you’ll come to dinner, you can’t change your mind when you find out the menu is hot dogs. As Vinny says, there are three keys to success: location location location. We should have quit the hot dogs, manners be damned.

Our location was so remote, some “go-vans”, which shuttle folks around market, didn’t know where the Atrium was. One day, in a lucky catch of a van, I hopped aboard to travel north to friends in the “designer” district of the furniture market.

“What do you think is happening there?” the driver asked me, pointing to the sidewalk, mid block ahead. “I think that woman has fallen,” I replied and suggested we help her out. Sure enough, not only had she fallen, but she was nine months pregnant, and in labor. “Would you mind?” the driver asked, “if we bring her to hospital?”. I encouraged the move, and helped the woman get into the van. The driver mounted the “out of service” placard, and we sped in direction of the hospital. I never found out if it was a boy or a girl.

Market visitors like us stay in the home of High Point area residents, as there are a limited number of hotel rooms in the city. This time, we stayed with a friend, a school teacher. She asked me if I would consider teaching a fourth grade art class.

I have never thought of myself as a teacher, but business was slow, and I needed excitement and inspiration. Sure enough, at 8:05 on Monday morning, two dozen smiling fourth-grade faces filed into the room. The class had been studying the many applications of art in life: interior design, graphic design, architecture, teaching, ART.
“What is a professional artist?” the teacher asked. Hands raised: one who paints all the time; an artist who sells their paintings! The super smart class asked about what my paintings sold for. “Did you ever sell one for more than a thousand?

Questions continued, as I set up my easel. “What shall I paint?” I asked, looking out the window. ME was the universal reply. So a painted a number of students, at their tables, in the classroom. It was a modest 12 x 24 inch canvas. I had about thirty minutes to complete the work. I rushed: no eyes or noses, one boy’s shirt, another boys hair; a girl with a hand on her hip. I was compelled to finish the painting and have it look good. “I’ll give you $24.00 for it!” someone exclaimed.

Forest View Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 14 x 11 inches

By the side of the road Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 12 x 12 inches


Blue M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 12 x 12 inches

Rock at Burr Pond Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 12 x 24 inches

Pink Mules M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 36 x 24 inches

Trees near Bishops Orchard M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on Canvasboard 14 x 11 inches

Birch trees at the Branford River Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 11 x 14 inchesBurr Pond Sunday M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 14 x 11 inchesMeeting house Branford Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 16 x 20"

This is just a quick little artnotes before we take off for the South.

We didn't find the little place to live in America that we were looking for, but we did meet a nice gypsy family living in a historic house in Madison, CT. They emphasized interest in "storing" our goods for us. The wife was very beautiful and the son drew pictures scotched-taped to all the walls.

We went to New York and lunched with a long lost schoolmate of Blair's. Afterward we visited a friend running at a gallery there, and drank champagne. She left us the rest of the bottle, which we drank in bed on Saturday morning.

I made two art history videos, one of which I posted on the website. The other one is mostly of the ground -- "due to technical difficulties" will not be shown until later.

I've applied for jobs, none of which have materialized, and I've enjoyed painting outdoors over the last week or two. I tell myself this is our life now, not what we're going to do or where we are "going". We are the "they" we've been waiting for.

We took my parents out for a celebratory meal because it was Sunday and we quit feeling sorry for ourselves. Then we painted in the freezing cold at Burr Pond; Harika dug.

There was a light show in Branford on Saturday night, at the town hall. Harika rolled in a dead mole, and had two baths. We got our teeth worked on. Blair made vichysoisse, and I made butternut squash soup.

We're piling all our pictures in the car and driving away.

Art History: New York Harbor 1945

Pink Tree Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 16 x 20"
Trees on the Branford Green M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 20 x 16"

At the Supply Pond M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 12 x 16"

Birch Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 16 x 20"

Chatford Hollow M. Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 20 x 16 inches
SOLD
Burr Pond M Blair PESSEMIER Oil on canvas 20 x 16 SOLD

Stand of Trees at Welter Farm Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 30 x 10 inchesStudy: Trees Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on wood 6 x 10 inches

Impression: Fall Leaves Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 16 x 20

Big Tree at Welters Farm Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on Canvas 20 x 16

September noon Burr Pond Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 30 x 15"

First Frost Orchard Laurie Fox PESSEMIER Acrylic on canvas 54 x 20 inches SOLD

Artnotes: Swings

"Swings!" Immediately after eating sandwiches and chips, our two-and-a-half-year-old twin friends went for a ride on the swings at Parker Park, the beach in Branford. My own lunch lurched ominously in my stomach as they hung their heads all the way back, watching the trees and sky careen above. "Higher!"

There are things one can do at the age of two and a half that will never be the same again. Their mom, our friend, H, asserts, "they'll only be two and a half once". Chasing pigeons; wading into the water in blue jeans, up over your knees; squealing with delight… I really enjoy that refreshing attitude, and try to incorporate into my own life. But there is something about knowing, understanding, and planning that can put the kybosh on spontaneity.

We are a bit more spontaneous this week, our coffers jingling ever so slightly again. I won't say it was the letter to God, but it could have been. I also tossed a penny into the Chinese Super Buffet fountain: the result came just an hour afterward. This was the same fountain, into which my mother, a rabid Yankees fan, pitched a penny, years earlier, willing them to win the world series, but, through an unfortunate slip of the tongue, exclaimed, "I hope the Red Sox (the other half of the family’s team) win the world series!" The Red Sox won. Ever since then, our family goes to then fountain whenever in need of a miracle. (This week’s wellspoke penny seems to have clinched the race for the Yankees).

On Thursday, the famous Branford library book sale opened its tents. It's a huge affair, with thousands of books. We paid the extra ten dollars to be "friends of the library" and gain entry a day before the general public.

Blair got in line at a quarter to four, behind others already waiting for the five o'clock whistle. These, it turned out were dealers, some from as far away as Brooklyn. When I got there at 4:45, nobody would let me join him, and I was relegated to the end of the line.

A man chatted up the crowd with his African Grey parrot, Rudy. Rudy's tail was such a brilliant red it hurt your eyes to look at it. Rudy, 4 years old, could play dead on command, to the delight of everyone in line. He wouldn't talk to us, but Blair says he spoke to those at the front of the line, no doubt recognizing them as book sale winners.

We'd already scoped out the books we wanted: Klimt's landscapes, Steichens photos; American Impressionists, an Indian cookbook... we immediately bought those and a few others. The Julia Child I'd seen was gone -- her first book, done with Simone. I suspect the book was hidden by someone for a later pickup. On Sunday, we went back for “donation day”, filling a box with all sorts of books (Turtles, Nicholas and Alexandra, New England furniture…) for a $10.00 donation.

I made a fish cooked in salt, a recipe from one cookbook: the whole fish, scales and all, is covered one inch deep with coarse salt and cooked at high temperature. It was a dramatic presentation, with Blair cracking it open with a hammer. It was not salty at all and the only really good recipe in that cookbook, which is why I have a five dollar maximum cost rule for cookbooks. I already made one of the Indian recipes, justifying its one dollar price tag.

We had a raspberry clafoutis from a Julia Child recipe online, with the twins, and sent them on their way with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. When we see them again, I am sure they'll be completely different and new and wonder just who we are.