Artnotes: Ambassador

 Green Onions   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  8 x 20"    20 x 50cm     

 Oranges  Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  8 x 20"    20 x 50cm     

 Spring View  Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  8 x 20"    20 x 50cm     

 Across the Valley  Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  12 x 20"  30 x 50cm

Lacy Primrose   Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  12 x 12   30 x 30cm

Artnotes: Ambassador

I have been writing a book about “Slow Travel”.   Much of my time is wrapped up in this, so I will share some excerpts on Artnotes in the coming weeks.  My goal is to have the book launched in the next 75 days, so I’ll keep you posted.  It has gotten me to think just how important travel is.

When you travel you have a mission, chosen or not.  You represent who you are and the elements of yourself to the world.  I represent women, sixty-year olds, artists, cooks, writers, wives, dog owners and Americans.  And each of those categories gives you the opportunity to make an impression of what Americans, or cooks, or dog-owners, are like, apart from the opinion they form from TV.  You have a lot of power to change people’s ideas about who you are and who your group is.  I scoop.

This is particularly important to me right now, because I don’t feel the current regime in the USA represents my views.   I feel ashamed of what is being perpetrated in the USA – my art, my writing, my livelihood are guaranteed by the First Amendment of the Constitution;  I have the right to travel wherever I want with my American passport.   When I travel, or as I live my life in Italy, I project the most positive aspects of the America to the people I meet.   It’s my job.

One particularly late night, long ago, at the Petit Lux, a restaurant where we worked in Paris, we decided to take a taxi home.  It wasn’t a long way, but we hopped a cab near the Hotel Lutetia and directed the driver to our house on rue de Lille.  “Are you English?” he asked, hearing our accented French.  “No,” we replied, “American”.  “Ah, I have a hard time with Americans.”

I went on to explain that there are all types of Americans, and we can be pretty extreme in our behavior.  Really generous, really mean; very loud, or soft-spoken; haughty or humble.  We chatted for ten minutes about these things.  As we departed, he said, “you guys are alright, even if you are American”.   I said I thought of ourselves as ambassadors;  “Oh, wow,” he exclaimed, “you’re the ambassadors?”

We are ambassadors.   Now we are the American ambassadors to Rocca Malatina, Italy, population 575.  Stop by for coffee.

Artnotes: Cuckoo for You

Irises in late May    Laurie Fox Pesemier   canvas panel  12 x 16"  30 x 40 cm  SOLD

 The Neapolitans Stand   Blair Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  12 x 16"  30 x 40 cm

At the Rocca Malatina Market   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/wood  8 x 17.5   20 x 44.5cm

Rainbow   Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  16 x 12"  40 x 30cm

Cuckoo for You

On Sunday, the telephone rang.  “Can you come outside?” the voice asked.   And there, in front of the house was a marvelous Appaloosa, with a friend, G, in the saddle.  To me, the Appaloosa is the best sort of horse, with spots.  Although I am not a rider, I love to see the horses.

We have a project to create a horse head in terra cotta, or similar material, to hang in Rainbow’s yard.   We had hoped to do it over the winter, but the basement was simply too cold to work in.  So June looks like the month of the horse head sculpture.  We’ll keep you posted.

Today, Saturday, the weather just became warm:  seasonal, really.  Before now, it was still cold outside, which made it difficult to paint or do anything one would normally do, outside, in May.  Despite the call of the cuckoo, the herald of spring, the season only really sprung this weekend.  The cuckoo calls in Rocca Malatina from dawn until dusk.  I always expect to hear the creak of the clock’s door and the slam as the bird recedes into his house.  I never heard the cuckoo, outside of the cuckoo clock at my parents house, until I moved to Italy.

Meanwhile, the prairie around our house has grown to be as high as an elephant’s eye, or a horse’s eye, in the case of Rainbow.   The big mower has gone to other yards, who couldn’t stand the “great plains” look any longer.  Where there is the least amount of slope, the mower slips down the hill, exposing great swaths of mud.  It’s better to have waited, although my allergies are in full bloom.

We painted pictures in the Rocca Malatina market today.  Our town only has two vendors, both selling vegetables; one with plants, too.   I had been living under the impression our town had 3000 people.  In fact, we    officially have only 558.   Which means we are lucky to have a market at all.   One of the vendors is from our area; the other is a family of Neapolitans (who must live nearby).  I try to buy something from both, so the market will continue.  Strawberries are in season.  I made a strawberry risotto for lunch.

My Italian teacher brought over a half-dozen “Anglophones” to see our house on Saturday.  We toured from bottom to top, with one man visiting the basement.   We took photos and had laughs, and will join them on a tour in Bologna on 31 May.  Ahhh, spring.

Pasta in Singapore

 Liberation Day   Blair Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  12 x 19.5"  30 x 50 cm SOLD

Fiori a Castello   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  19.5 x 12"  50 x 30  cm

 Sassi di Rocca Malatina   Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/wood  18 x 23.5"  45 x 59cm

Laurie Fox Pessemier  Geranium at Castello di Serravalle  12 x 12 30 x 30cm

 Laurie Fox Pessemier   Monte Corone   Acrylic/canvas 12 x 19.5"  30 x 50 cm  SOLD

Blair Pessemier  Monte Corone   Acrylic/canvas 12 x 19.5"  30 x 50 cm  SOLD

 Castello di Serravalle Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/wood  18 x 23.5"  45 x 59cm

Sassi Roccamalatina   Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  12 x 16  30 x 40cm

  Acrylic/canvas  12 x 16  30 x 40cm

 Cherry Trees 30 April  Blair Pessemier   16 x 12"  40 x 30cm

Tree by road in rain   Laurie Pessemier   16 x 12"  40 x 30cm

Artnotes:  Pasta in Singapore

This week began with Liberation Day in Italy.   25 April marks the fall of Mussolini's Italian Social Republic and the end of the Nazi occupation in Italy in 1945, towards the end of the second World War.   There were banners and wreaths and the marvelous musical band of Rocca Malatina in the square.  Blair painted a picture of Paul’s house, with banners hanging from the windows, adjacent to the memorial.

This was our last week of Italian conversation for a while with our beloved teacher Antonella.  We are outrageously busy at the moment with:  painting sales, shows, visitors and painting workshops.   It is always a slippery slope as we fall back into English, forgetting our verbs.

Patrick, the husband of this weekend’s painter, loves the Italian language.  “If you want to have a successful product, give it an Italian name”.   He cites lovely words like Ferrari, or Lamborghini… Missoni, Versace, et cetera.   He is from Singapore.

It was a cold painting experience for his wife, a wonderful painter, originally from Malaysia.   Coming from the region of the Equator, they were frozen in the cool, damp weather Italy has been experiencing.  We turned our own house heat up to 75 (24C), which was something I’ve long wanted to do.  It was warm and relaxing.  

We painted up at the Sassi, the big rock (70+ meters tall/almost 250 feet) on Friday afternoon.   He sat at the Faro café, with its marvelous (inside) views.  A double room with a breathtaking view there is just 50 a night, including breakfast.   The owner’s little daughter brought out her easel and painted from the deck, shyly trying to hide her work.  It was great.

We visited with the Singaporeans over dinner – I made them rabbit, which they’d never had before.  She liked it, he didn’t as much.  It is thrilling to have people from so far away in little Rocca Malatina.  Of course, everyone in town noticed them; “are they Japanese?” someone asked us at the café on Saturday morning.

We painted at Castello di Serravalle, and then at Monte Corone.   A man stopped to take a picture, with the borgo in the background of the painting.  I loved the internationality of it all:  an American, an Asian, a European photographer and town.

They loved Pasta Fresca, our fresh pasta store across the street.  They bought two large boxes to bring home.  “Maybe we should open a fresh pasta store in Singapore?”

Artnotes: If you don't like the Weather....

 Almond blossoms   Blair Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  15 x 15"  40 x 40 cm   sold

 ​Blossoms in March    Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  12 x 15"  30 x 40 cm

 Snow in the Trees    Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas   12 x 15"    30 x 40 cm

 ​Violets growing in the Rock   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas 10 x 14"   25 x 35cm

 ​Through the Chapel Window   Blair Pessemier   Acrylic/panel   12 x 12"  30 x 30cm

Winter and Spring   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas   9 x 12"   24 x30 cm

Artnotes:  if you don’t like the weather…

My father always jokes, a la Mark Twain, “if you don’t like the weather in New England now, just wait a few minutes.”   This is soon to be the global mantra.

The week began with heavy fog, which cleared up by Wednesday morning, for Blair and I  to paint the almond blossoms and to lunch outside.  Not far from our house, we could see the Alps, 200 miles away.    That afternoon Blair bought two black cypress trees at the garden store (Ludovico, the gardener said, “ I’ll plant them next week.”) and I planted primrose and violets.    On Thursday morning we woke up to 4 inches of snow, which continued most of the day.  The eight or so inches froze, then we got the strongest winds  I have ever experienced, Friday evening through Saturday afternoon (Otto at the café assures me this is not normal).  Trees toppled, and the lids flew off our 4 foot tall terra cotta planters.  What happened to sunny Italy?

Friends from Corsica visited us on their way to Slovenia, and then on their way back.   The daughter had been making documentary movies in Slovenia for fourteen months, and worked in a refugee center.   She is the only person I know who has actually experienced the “refugee situation”, and it was surprising.   Competing NGOs and encouraging immigration were just part of it.   “Don’t believe the television”, was her advice.   As time goes on, I think the media is constructing our reality, from world conflicts to politics, and I am careful what I read.  Right now I am reading “Nabokov’s Butterflies”.

They brought us dozens of bottles of Bordeaux and cheeses from France.  I don’t mean to complain, but I have had difficulty with Italian wines.   I can taste the heat in the wine, and it makes it hard for me to notice anything else.  Italian wine and duck?  I don’t know.  Of course there is the Barolo, at near 20 a bottle, “the king of wines”.  G, from Iceland, brought us slippers that her mother knitted, and Corsican sausages.   We had feasts and lots of laughs together.

We took the Corsicans (Corsica is that blend of Italian and French – what could be better?)  to our favorite pasta joint in Modena:  Aldini.  It’s an upstairs restaurant, and fashionable diners eat delicious homemade food.    We get the combination of three pastas – if you are going to gorge pasta, may as well go all the way.  Tortellini in brodo; Tortelli with ricotta and spinach, Modenese style; we slipped in a Risotto, and finished with my favorite Lasagna.   Waddle waddle down the stairs and out.   We drank Sangiovese all around – a rather thin wine.

We took a walk through the woods that afternoon, eyeing the incredible amount of violets in bloom. 

Today, the bird sings outside our window to put a good face on things.  Bravissimo!

Artnotes: Sound Track

 Snowing in Rocca M    Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/linen  12 x 16"  30 x 40cm 

 ​Fog in the Evening   Blair Pessemier   Acrylic/linen  9.5 x 14"  24 x 35 cm   

 ​Plants sitting out Winter in Basement  Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/linen 9.5 x 13  24 x 33cm

 ​Snow on Sunday Morning   Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/linen  12 x 16"  30 x 40cm

​House in Morning Fog   Laurie Fox Pessemier 8 x 10"  20 x 25cm 

Artnotes:  Sound Track

All this week I’ve woken up with giant ideas.  I have thought of art shows in our fields this spring, of making figures of cement (or terra cotta) to place along the driveway, of love and what it really is.   I have started pursuing the pop up show idea in Bologna, but may make a venue change to Florence.   I have a terrible time sleeping in the dark days of winter – I could fall asleep at 7 and could get up at 2.  I just can’t tell, when it’s dark and quiet, like it is here, what time of the day or night it is.

The roosters seem to be in the same boat – they crow at midnight.  They are crowing now.  They crow constantly, it seems, the current sound track to my life.  When they don’t crow, like in the fog, it is perfectly silent.  Our prior sound track was sirens in the streets of Paris, a frightening, non-organic sound.  It wasn’t always that way [in Paris], but when we moved to a street side (as opposed to courtyard) location for more light, we got more noise.

My favorite soundtrack was when our neighbor Olivier, in Paris, played the piano.  He wasn’t Liberace, or Glenn Gould, but he played Bach – one song, over and over, trying to perfect it.  I came to love the sound, and could recognize when he was angling for that one, fatal mistake, before he made it and would start over again.

Went to Bologna this week to see a Guido Reni and Carracci show, with the added surprise of our friends taking us on a walking tour of the city, which we will take you on someday, too.   Bologna was empty, the audio to a minimum (it’s a pedestrian city) – just the tap tap of shoes on the terrazzo sidewalks, echoing under the loggias.  It was a rare day of filtered sunshine, and we visited the seven churches of St. Stefano, all chined together.

We’re headed for the sound track of the sea tomorrow.  We’ll go to Cervo, Liguria, where we went last Christmas.  We miss the frescoed ceilings, and the big patio, where we can eat lunch in the sun and hear the lapping of the waves.

Artnotes: In the hills

 Mural wall for the Alpini, Rocca Malatina

1/3 of the way done

 Blair, mastering the trees

The mural, with me

The Hills  Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/linen   13 x 18"  33 x 46 cm

Tree in Gold   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/panel   10 x 12"  25 x 30 cm

Artnotes:  In the Hills

While walking Harika, a man we know in town motioned for us to “come over here”.  He went on to point out the white wall on the new clubhouse of the Alpinists. “A mural is what we need here”, he asserted.  The club’s thinking had, in fact, gone beyond that – they had an image in mind, the “Sassi”, the two big rocks which define our town, and the surrounding wood.

The Alpinists are a force here in the Apennines.  They were very active in World War II, and much action transpired in these hills.   They still get together, and have increased their numbers with the addition of local hikers.

Bob Dole, the former US senator, was a second lieutenant in the 10^th mountain division at Castel D’Aiano (we went to lunch there on Monday, passing Dole’s monument), where he was seriously wounded.   It was thought Dole wouldn’t survive, but he did and was determined to do as much as he could with his remaining strength.  Dole was here, just ten miles from our house, in October 2015, to revisit his mountains. “This may be my last trip,” the 92 year old veteran announced.  

We gladly agreed to paint the mural, if the Alpinists provided all the paints.  Blair went up on Monday and sketched out the design, in charcoal.  Tuesday morning we were in full painting form, and knocked out most of the picture that day.  The Alpinists decided they’d like their alpine hat on top of the mountain – which I gladly obliged.  “That feather needs to be longer…”

We loved painting outside, in public, once again.   A dozen people stopped by over two days to watch the progress:  sidewalk supervisors.  I was, myself, surprised at how quickly the work went.   Blair was the layout man, and I did the sky, the rocks, and the hat.   He painted most of the trees, although I made an occasional dab of green paint.  On Wednesday, we finished.

Harika supported us, dozing, chasing a cat and digging shallow holes in the clay, the same stuff that was on the playing fields.   She welcomed each observer.  An occasional coffee laced with brandy, a plastic cup full of homemade grappa, “the specialty of the house”, kept us warm.  I almost hated to see the project come to a close.

We’ve asked for a Christmas tree in return – if anyone can find us a nice 10 foot tree, these guys will.   As we signed our name on the mural, I told the president of the club, “we’ll be in Rocca Malatina forever now”.

Art Notes: Smells Good

 Farmhouse near CastelVetro   Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/linen  13 x 18"  33 x 46cm

 Early Winter Morning   Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/linen  13 x 18"  33 x 46cm

 Tree near Ludivico's house   Laurie Aor Pessemier   14 x 20   35 x 50cm

 Quince  Blair Pessemier   Acrylic/panel  9.5 x 14"  24  x 35 cm

 Forested Path near CastelVetro  Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/panel  9.5 x 13"  24  x 33 cm

 Cherry Tree   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/panel  11 x 14"  27 x 35 cm

Chickens under skinny tree   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/linen  13 x 18"  33 x 46cm

Artnotes:  Smells Good

It has been a beautiful week in Rocca Malatina.  The sun is shining, and every morning there is a soft white near-frost cover on the grass.   It is cold, but still above freezing.  I can smell everything.

I know smells are supposed to be stronger in the summer, but it is this time of year I could always smell the chocolate shop in our neighborhood in Paris.   Maybe bad smells are stronger in summer, but give me a damp October day and I can almost tell you, eyes closed, where I am standing.

Here, Harika runs around in circles, spurred by these cool temperatures, stirring up the spicy scent of mint which is as thick as the grass in our yard.   The neighbors (sadly) cut down their towering spruce and our house filled with the pine-y aroma; days later I still detect its lingering perfume outside.  I picked scores of apples from our trees – laying some in for the winter in the basement, and making apple crumble just for fun.  The house smells wonderful.

Friends brought us quince, that aromatic fruit which lends itself to jelly.  Blair loves them, odd-ball as they are, and he wants to sit and smell them.  He is painting quince as we speak.

I painted a lot this week, enjoying the sunshine.  Shadows are longer, the sun no longer shining directly overhead.  I miss our luncheons on the deck, but there is a coziness to being indoors.   We got our chimney cleaned, something people here found astounding.  It had perhaps never been cleaned in the history of the house.  The chimney sweep wanted to know the last time the fireplace was used.

The fireplace is in our kitchen, where I am eager to roast a whole salmon, or lamb chops.  I can roast vegetables and keep our kitchen warm with the fire. 

The Cream Puff has been in the shop, getting its heater fixed (mercifully, under warrantee).  On the one hand, I am thrilled to be free of a car; on the other hand, I miss getting around.  If I win the lottery, I will buy a big luxury car (a Rolls-royce, or Bentley, maybe) and have a driver for Blair, Harika and I , who will loll in the big leather (smells good) back seat.  

The Cream Puff

The Church, Rocca Malatina   Blair Pessemier Acrylic/linen  15 x 18"   38 x 46 cm    Sold

“I’ve got a car for you,” the proprietress of the coffee shop announced to Blair on Wednesday.  A town resident had died, and the family was wishing to dispose of the car.  “Free!” she told Blair.  Touched by her generosity and thoughtfulness, Blair had to refuse. “We are picking up our new car today”.

Church and house next door   Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/canvas  10.5 x 14"  27 x 35 cm  

​People who buy cars online miss all the fun.  Where else can I sit with a swarthy southern Italian who taps in his words in Italian and they come out of the computer in English?  And we don’t just stick to car talk – he tells us his brother-in-law is a painter; I tell him my best friend’s name is Sal, like his.  

A friend who speaks both Italian and English tells us, “this guy is southern Italian, I can hardly understand him. And besides that, be careful” (there's a trickiness associated with the south).   I reply that I am from somewhere else, too, don’t speak Italian at all, and Sal deserves a chance to sell me this car.   Besides, the fact his name is Sal, and my friend is Sal (who sold us almost every car we bought), has big good vibes to me.   And I can see this guy, smell him, shake his hand, look in his eyes.   Our insurance agent says, “where did you find this guy, I can hardly understand him.”  The name of the dealership is “Passione Auto”. 

​The Yellow Tree across the Street    Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/canvas  10.5 x 16 "  27 x 41 cm   

The salesman at Renault was a nice person, don’t get me wrong.  He did everything right.  But Blair and I couldn’t face a car payment and a WHITE car.  Almost all cars in Italy are grey or white.   And Sal had exactly the car we are seeking.  Yes, our new wheels are candy-apple RED, just a shade off Ferrari.

He assured us he could do the paperwork necessary to register it in our name.  We got  international drivers licenses, but otherwise we have the same papers we always had.  Two other dealers wouldn’t work with us, and even the immigration specialist had his doubts.    

So we returned our rental car (the last of 5 months of loaners!) in Bologna and powered up the road to Paradise in our new old Citroen C5 wagon.  

The Cream Puff  Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/linen   9.5 x 14"  24 x 35 cm  

Laurie and Blair Pessemier

p.s.  our "Mostra" (art show) in Rocca Malatina has been a roaring success.  GRAZIE TUTTI for your good wishes and patronage!

Artnotes: Sidetracks

  Artnotes:  Sidetracks  

our show poster -- next weekend, bring friends
​

As winter comes on, I can smell fires burning in the neighborhood.    In the early morning and late afternoon, I am put in the mind of Istanbul, where I once smelled those 5 PM fires signaling the start of supper.     On the weekends I smell the delicious fireplaces, burning alder or chestnut, chasing away the chill of the country house of a Bolognese or Modenese neighbor enjoying the fall landscape.   I am about to light my own fireplace, in our kitchen, replete with soup pots and tigelle irons.  

​Cold rain in the Village   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/linen  30 x 30cm   12 x 12"

“Look, it’s Hercules”, our backseat passenger exclaimed on a ride down a country road on Tuesday.  The man walking his bicycle at the side of the road seemed fit, a bit beefy, but by no means did I think this man the historic superhero.  “He’s my brother-in-law”. 

Hercules has eyebrows you could use to  knit a sweater, but otherwise, he is just an Italian guy with a flat tire on his bicycle.  Our passenger suggested we stop at Hercules’ farm, just down the road, and tell his wife Esther he’s on his way.  You have to get used to these sidetracks if you’re going to live in Italy. People stop and visit all the time, schedules be damned.

Esther walked us out to the back yard, to show us the pond, which they fashioned from the stream running through the property.  The ground was soft beneath our feet – I realize this means nothing to most people, but after 20 years on the Paris sidewalk, actually stepping on the soft breast of mother Earth can almost bring me to tears.   I could smell the dirt, the grape vines, the garden.

Esther pointed out the piles of grape skins, remains of squeezing, spread around the ground to enrich the soil.  She handed me as squash as I was leaving, a  beautiful dusty-turquoise model, which she advised me to bake.   After I paint it.

​Squash   Laurie Fox Pessemier   Acrylic/linen  33  x  41cm    13"  16"  

This morning we awoke to the thickest fog I think I’ve ever seen.  I could almost capture it in my hands, and could certainly take big bitefuls.   Paul called to say he was up by the Sassi, we must come and see.  It was as if we were in an airplane:  fluffy white clouds below and pure blue sparking sunshine on the treetops and rocks.  Breathtaking.

​

Fog in the Valley   Blair Pessemier   Acrylic/linen   33 x  76cm   13 x 30"  (LARGE!)   

I feel lucky to have travelled and seen as much as we have.  It is those ephemeral moments of fires starting and fog, soft earth and hard squash, that give my mind a joyous air.   I think of travel before now, and trips to come.   I made a proposal for 8 to 14 painters to paint with us in Paris next May, and am really looking forward to it.  Here, I distribute flyers to paint in Bologna or Modena, and practice mixing the colors of fall.

Speaking of our former city, our friend in Paris, Richard Nahem, has launched a new, wonderful “postcard” program one can subscribe to.  Each month, he makes three postcards from his images.  To read more about it, go to:  Eye Prefer Paris Postcards.

Richard wrote a wonderful post about doors in our region of Emilia-Romagna...     and to learn aboutBologna click on this great NYTimes article...   Momma Mia, enough links!!!

Laurie and Blair PESSEMIER