Sunday, December 08, 2019

Artnotes: How the Universe Works

Olive Trees with Painted White Trunks (near Farfa)  Laurie Fox Pessemier    Acrylic/paper  17 x 25"  41 x 63cm   160.00

House Portrait 2  Blair Pessemier    Acrylic/canvas  6.5 x 9.5"  17 x 24 cm   Commission (one of four small portraits)

Apples on a Plaid Cloth   Laurie Fox Pessemier    Acrylic/canvas   12 x 16"  30 x 40cm    225.00

House Portrait 4  Blair Pessemier    Acrylic/canvas  6.5 x 9.5"  17 x 24 cm   Commission (one of four small portraits)

Shopping at Terni    Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  20 x 14"  50 x 35cm   275.00

As if on cue, our studio here in Stimigliano became our gallery.  Last week, I waxed on the idea of a gallery connected to my home, in a chic little town in France.  Paint in the morning, do some internet marketing, sit in the gallery in the afternoon. 

We came back to Italy early because we were invited to show at a local caffe this weekend.  It turned out to be a bomb, for a variety of reasons.  So we rolled the production down to our studio, at the Piazza Roma in the Borgo of Stimigliano.

Blair had just finished up our lighting project in the cantina/studio.  The biggest (and heaviest) possible car battery powers my chandelier and lamp.  Between the two, it’s a warm, romantic light, boosted by a hideous “emergency” light, I recharge, along with the battery, in the house.  I kind of feel like I’m “off the grid”, certainly glad I didn’t have to pay the electrician 700 Euros to extend the cord across the street, or pay 30 euros a month for new service.   It’s not bad; good even.

I turned the gas heater onto high, flipped on the lights (actually they turn on slowly, like you can see the electricity edging up the cord), and I was in business.  Immediately, a new guy, Marco, who actually grew up in the house across the street, appeared at the door.  It was my library that initially attracted him, along with the giant butterfly painted on my door.  This is wonderful, he went on.  He told his wife, and mother, who were preparing for a luncheon party.  “Can I bring my guests over this afternoon?” he asked.

A half dozen doctors and their wives appeared, oohing, aahing and taking cards.  An Italian man, speaking English, was the leading expert on the Sistine Chapel.  He’d toured the Clintons and other dignitaries through the Vatican, and brought us his book on the subject, which he signed to friends Laurie and Blair.

The party wrapped up as darkness fell, everyone pleasantly surprised by how the universe works.  When you wish for something, you should look around.  Maybe it is already there.   

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