This print shows a dialogue, or perhaps an exploration. Are they perhaps looking down a tunnel? Or watching a sunset?
This is a chine collé print from a copper etched plate. The paper is thin Japanese paper brought to me by kind friends directly from “Paper Nao” in Tokyo. You can see how the plate was made on this link: Strange landscapes from wood
The plain print, with no chine collé, looks like this:
The coloured bits are placed on top of the plate, glue side up. I’ve described the process on this link: The chine collé process
Here is work in progress:
Ink: Gutenberg black from Intaglio Printmaker.
Glue the little bits of paper on the *top*. Note the tweezers.
The coloured paper is “fibre silk” paper from “GreatArt.com”
I lift it with tweezers and put it to dry on another piece of newsprint. When dry, I move it carefully to the plate: glue side UP.
The village of Montcigoux has a house with a long roof.
Note also the extraordinary number of electricity cables. The plan is to put them underground. This was in progress. But so far not on this side of the village.
The queue at Limoges airport Passport Controle took 1 hour. There were only two officials and a huge number of people on the aircraft.
We went to Brantôme, a town on the River Dronne. It’s on an island in the river. There’s a food market on Fridays. At the cafe I sketched the Abbey.
We walked by the river and found a poem on a stone tablet. I wrote it in my notebook.
With the help of friends, I am still puzzling out what the poem says. Here’s the latest attempt:
Philosopher, it is there, right at the end of the convent Whose façade is washed by the River Dronne in flood That in this enclave, having spent the summer under the majestic elm trees While leaving your monastic cell to its gigantic books You would be in free dialogue with your memories.
All suggestions, improvements and interpretations welcome. The verb “jaser” seems to mean “gossip”, but perhaps “faire jaser” has a different meaning. Any ideas? I also assumed that the “G.B.” was the writer “Brantôme”. Georges Brantôme I guessed. But no, the writer Brantôme is Pierre. Here’s what Wikipedia says:
Pierre de Bourdeille, seigneur de Brantôme (c. 1540 – 15 July 1614), also known as the abbé de Brantôme, was a French historian, soldier and biographer.
I rather get the impression from his Wikipedia entry that the abbé de Brantôme was more of a chronicler than a poet. So who is “G.B.”? I definitely need to go back to Brantôme to have a closer look at that stone plaque. And to buy more of that cheese with nettles in, made by a Dutchman who has settled in France, and sold to us by his son.
“Is it French cheese?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, in the manner of someone embarking on a long explanation, “the milk is from French cows, and it was made in France….”. But, evidently, it was made by his father, a Dutch man, using a Dutch process. So is the cheese French? Is that even a useful question?
Here’s a view of the abbey from the restaurant where we had lunch:
I sketched in Périgord last year. See this link: Montcigoux
One of my pictures is now on the wall of the house it depicts.
We walked up the Diktamos gorge. It is deep and leafy. Here is an impression drawn that evening, trying to show you the dark depths of the gorge, the high rocky walls, and the leaves. John is shown, sitting on a stone, bottom centre left.
On the way to the airport we stopped in Agia Triada. I had 45 minutes to do a sketch. This is pen and ink.
It’s a three hour flight. One has to do something. I revisited the Diktamos gorge in pen and ink. The game was to use as few lines as possible, by not taking the pen off the paper. This is 3 lines.
I visited the Hôtel de France, Sainte-Croix in Vaud, Switzerland. Here is the hotel, from the street outside, just after I arrived.
I had to wait in Geneva train station, for the train which goes to Yverdon-les-Bains. The sun came through the windows and people walked through the lighted space.
The Hôtel de France is known for its absinthe.
I sketched the absinthe table. The bottles look like a group of people waiting for something to happen. Like people, the bottles have common basic characteristics, but each has their individual variations.
Glasses, too, have their characters.
I walked down the ancient salt road to the village of Vuitebœuf. Here is the Église de Vuitebœuf from the rue du Culaz, which I afterwards found out is also on the ‘Via Francigena’ pilgrims’ route Canterbury to Rome (1900km).
This church was constructed in 1904 to the design of Charles-François Bonjour.
I travelled back to London late Sunday night, on a crowded ‘plane from Geneva.
From gate B42
Boarding the aircraft
Here are links to previous drawings in Sainte-Croix.