Artist En Route: Provence, France (third in a series of articles appearing in Art Avenue magazine)

Arrival: greeted by Cézanne

Arriving in Provence is like walking into a painting. It's so sensually appealing -- in all senses. Arriving in mid September, the light is remarkable. How to describe light? It's not just its clarity, given the dry air and open skies. Right now the light has a quality of softness that imparts a warm, golden glow. Everything is penetrated and sculpted by it, without hard edge. Compared to the brilliantly sharp light I've seen in southern Spain and Greece, the light here seems to caress forms, rather than starkly to chisel or outline them. It warms and insinuates shadows that seem to slide into, rather than cut, the ground. It illuminates in and around the subtly colored foreground planes and unifies them with harmonious background fields.

from Janet's studio window in rural Provence, France

For an idea of the glow here, contrast this photo taken outside my 'studio' here with one in my last column from Vancouver-- also beautiful, I think, but in a different light. My art space here is very different from my little art-house on Saturna Island, but it's workable. I've set up a room here with the art materials I'd unpacked and a make-shift easel of canvas tacked to a thin old piece of wood mounted on rusted garden stools I'd scrounged.

I'm settled for several months in a country house near Aix-en-Provence, home of Cézanne. He is my constant neighbor, whose round bald pate I love and in tribute to whom I've made the Bienvenu digital montage for you. Not only did Cézanne love and never leave Provence for long, but he saw it as few before him ever had. Now, not far from where he lived, I see the real Mt. Ste. Victoire appear the way he painted it again and again: planes of broken color that abut and define mass and that move with the light.

 Cézanne's personal welcome (JS digital montage)

Visual art has a way of teaching us to look in different ways and perhaps to see more. Cézanne's Mt. Ste. Victoire is not just a mountain. It's a changing field of colored planes, a template for a new way of looking and of seeing, an icon in art history, a symbol of a place and of a devotion. This is what it's like to live inside a painting. I start seeing the trees around me as Cézanne trees, the sparks of light as Van Gogh painted them, the colors as both organizing and breaking shapes into Monet-like impressions, the polymorphous possibilities for Picasso-esque forms.

It's a fantasy to think of long-gone painters as companions, but I do. On one of my hikes up Mt. Ste. Victoire, groaning my way along one of the longer and steeper trails, I kept looking for PC+EZ cut into tree trunks, a sign of the boyhood friendship of Paul Cezanne and Emile Zola, who walked these same trails.

view from one of many hikes I took on Mt. Ste. Victoire (JS photo)

Inspiration

Inspiration is everywhere. It's in the abundance of nature, the pace of agricultural rhythms, in the sensory variety of the sights, sounds, smells, and textures that weave through daily life. It's in the vineyards, olive groves, and spent fields of lavender, the red and ochre earth you walk upon. The natural palette is gorgeously harmonious. The ground varies from luscious red-browns to an eye-dazzling range of rich yellows, set in perfect contrasts of deep and diminished sap-greens that slide into silvery olive tones, and blues to break your heart. All the natural pigments could make you as delirious as they might have Van Gogh. Nearby Roussillon, perched atop on of the largest ochre deposits in the world, is famous for its natural pigments, used by painters for centuries... and now I've picked up some too.

JS photos taken while walking along natural ochre trails of Roussillon; natural ochre pigment purchased there, beside vase

It's in the endurance of ways of life here that persist across centuries of turmoil and war, in the ancient ruins you come across in almost every village, the many ancient towns with modern people living in homes with stonework dating back before the Caesars. The past is alive, along with the present. History is apparent even in street names like Rue Verrerie/Anciano Carriero de la Jutarie, written in both modern French and older Provençal (or Occitan). It's in the daily life of people who value living well: the well-prepared meal, the stylistic presentation, the attentively tended market stalls, the butcher who tells us not to miss the art show at the chateau. It's in the art based on this region that now invites you into it, up close and personal. 

Ordinary life becomes extraordinary when it breaks out of the familiar or routine. Art does something similar when it shows us an apple like we've never seen it before. Travel and living in a new location intensify and differentiate experience, pulling  it out of the ordinary lull. Shopping in the local outdoor markets, learning which ones to go to for what, listening to a different language, learning how to go about taken-for-granted things back home become adventures in living daily life. Such sharpening of one's attention is bound to influence how one sees things: teaching us how we need actively to look first, and then to look again. It changes one's perspectives by offering several different ways of looking at once. Not the easiest position to be in for holding confident opinions, but a self-reflectively open position that's very valuable, I think, for life as well as art.

I'm impressed by the attention given to public art and exhibitions everywhere I go. Even my town (not an art centre) has a local vernissage every few months. The nearby village of Loumarin, with only about 1,000 dwellers, boasts more than a dozen independent, active art galleries. This focus on art, so evident in the entire Provence region, seems to go along with a taste for reading and writing. Even in tiniest villages, you find busy independent bookstores and papeteries with their assortments of writing implements (fountain pens!) and papers, the tangibles of a literate culture. Vintage books and pens are also displayed traditionally in weekly open-air market stalls.

Making it as an artist?

I've visited so many nearby places, gone to so many different galleries and art events, and spoken with so many people here, including art students, teachers, and local gallerists, that I'm convinced this region maintains a vital cultural connection to the arts. Art centres and interests abound not only in the central city of Aix-en-Provence, long known for its artistic and cultural life. The many tiny Provençal communities have their art spaces and avid enthusiasts. Yet, emerging artists still typically take a long time to emerge.

Philippe, a mid-career artist/instructor for a workshop I attended gave me his overview of some challenges facing a painter who wants to make a living and gain recognition solely by art. They turned out not be so different from the challenges facing Canadian artists. He said the smaller galleries don't do enough to promote their artists and the larger ones are business conglomerates that deal only with known artists or decide in common which few new ones to promote. Although Philippe shows his paintings in local galleries, the best promotion, he thought, is to have them in the big art fairs that cost a big chunk of money but also attract the big gallerists. In contrast, "no problem" was the answer I got when asking the same question of Max, a fairly recent multimedia graduate of L'Ecole Superieure d'Art in Aix, then showing his intricate computer graphics at a group show promoted by the school. Max said he showed in all sorts of venues (not just galleries) in Belgium, France, and London, as well as having an internet presence with his abstract music. Aside from their artwork, is it their relative life positions or reference points for "success" that account for the somewhat different views of these two full-time artists?

Is what you paint affected by where you are?

Of course, we all affected by the culture we live in and absorb or react to, some more knowingly than others. Even the contemporary "culture" of painting tells us what's hot and what's not. But how much is the content and style of what visual artists paint related to their physical setting?

JS painting, Provençal Suite 1 (Abundance), www.janetstrayer.com

For plein-air artists, certainly it must be. But what about studio-based artists, abstract painters, or those who work from a more conceptual or imaginative base? My own recent experience tells me it is, for me, at least. I'd left for France while a show of my "Spirit of Place" semi-abstract paintings was on exhibit with the North Van Arts Council. I'd was eager to continue further with abstract painting. But after arriving here, "Abundance" is the first painting I did (in progress). I felt impelled to paint it just by being in the country house we'd rented and by Cézanne's palpable imminence here. In a way, it's my homage to both. Surprisingly to me, I couldn't get to work on anything else until I'd done this painting, which subsequently led to a couple more like it. While then pushing into work with non-representational abstracts, as I'd originally intended, those paintings kept changing into more impressionistic landscapes filled with the colors, textures, and sensations surrounding me. If an "abstract" painting of Provence results, good, but I'm ready to go with the flow for now.

The extent to which we're field-dependent or field-independent varies for each of us. This psychological variable pertains to our perceptual-cognitive styles: the extent to which we're influenced by the external context/field versus internal, proprioceptive cues. There are advantages to both. What impressed me, as generally a field-independent person, was the extent to which this flipped in response to the rich and inviting external cues of this Provençal environment.

Aix-en-Provence

Entire books are devoted to Provence, a region that includes multiple micro-climates and cultural influences from Celtic and Roman to Catalonian and North African. Aix-en-Provence is one of its handsomest towns, with its majestic Cours Mirabeau main street, one of largest and most recognizable fountains in France, and its trendy people-watchers sitting in posh cafés dating back to 1792. I'm fond of this ancient and youthful town that welcomes foreigners but keeps its traditions and a historic ability, despite changes of fortune, to embrace l'art de vivre. Of the many photos I'd like to share with you from Provence, here's one taken in Aix just after the horrible terrorist events in Paris. The town is alive with people, as usual, here celebrating in traditional costume an old Provençal dance with fife and drum.

traditional Provençal costumed folk dance with fife and drum (JS photo in Aix-En-Provence)

Á bientôt, for now. Looking forward to being en route with you in the next installment... in France or perhaps we'll already be in Italy!

Happy Holidays and Best Wishes for the New Year!

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about creative life, travels, tips and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News at https://www.janetstrayer.com

Regards, Janet 

 @ janetstrayer.com

When Art Began

When Did Art Begin?

It's a good guess that art began when the first humans were born with an opposing thumb to their fingers. No originating date like, say the first Tuesday in 300,000 B.C.E., marks this birthday. But art must be at least that old. 

Venus of Berekhat Ram, 230,000-500,000 BCE, internet photo 

Just as we remain uncertain of who the first humans were to poke fingers into mud  and ashes to draw or sculpt, we don't know what were the first things they made or why. Different from making tools or utensils for functional use, why did humans create apparently non-functional drawings and sculptures? 

Art made by the earliest human beings has endured from millenia ago. Examples of what we've come to call "fertility or earth-goddess" or "Venus" figurines date back to 500,000 BCE. Then again, think of all the art that has not endured, painted onto now eroded rocks or into shifting sands!

Art as the Greatest Human Invention of All

                                                                   from DaVinci drawing

Anthropologists tell us that the ability to make and use tools is one of the prime definitions of "humankind", as distinct from other "kinds" on the planet. We know that other primates use tools, as do other animals. Nevertheless, the technological reach of tool-making and its applications has remained singular among humans.

Despite this triumph of tool-making, a  National Geographic article reports (along with gorgeous photographs) that "the greatest innovation in the history of humankind was neither the stone tool nor the steel sword, but the invention of symbolic expression by the first artists." (January, 2015, p. 33). Art marks the invention of invention!

A Defining Feature of Being Human

For all the reasons mentioned, art is a defining feature of being human. We are "homo aestheticus"or art-makers and art appreciators. This takes on an entirely different emphasis than tool-makers.  Tools are, by definition, concrete and functional. Art is not. Although tools can be beautifully and elegantly crafted, their reason for being is to be useful. They serve to get us something we need or want: like a stick poked into water catches us a fish for supper. 

What does a stick poked into mud or ashes and then dabbed as a design onto a rock get us?  Art serves no such concrete, material function as does a tool. Yet, for eons of pre-written history, humans have been impelled to create in this manner, even under the most hazardous of conditions. Interestingly, many creation myths across the globe have a divine creator artfully making humans, often out of some earthy material like mud or clay, and then breathing or decreeing life into it.

Why Make Art?

Why did the first humans make art? We can only speculate about the reasons. The question continues to intrigue us and applies to contemporary art as well. Why do we make art now? What we do know is that art is a fundamental human experience, both the making and the experiencing of it. 

This is the first sentence in S. Giedion's renowned and illustrated volume that tackles this question: The Eternal Present: The Beginnings of Art. Can we infer the earliest experiences of our ancestors from their art? We can try by attending to the content of the work, what is most emphasized,  and its manner of presentation in its context (e.g., innermost part of caves). 

With us from the dawn of our consciousness, art does more than register experience. It is useful, not in the same way that  tools and utensils are useful. Yet art serves important functions. More in the way ornament or ritual are useful: art contributes to making or marking a sense of specialness in the world. And,, in the way visual language is useful, art is a means of communicating to others, even to some transcendental "other'.

Art expresses in both symbol and  visual metaphors for what we experience, need, want, fear, or yearn for, be it material in nature or immaterial, physical or metaphysical.

Art is an experienced act of exploring our minds, creating and re-creating experiences, dreams, wishes, or worlds that others, too, can experience. It is an act of exploring our powers to create, elevating or submerging us into what we do not quite know ... but somehow begin to imagine. And so, it begins to take shape and form. It makes meaning. 

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about Italy plus other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here.

Regards, Janet @ https://www.janetstrayer.com

Of Fables and Myths

Art Show on Saturna Island: Of Fables and Myths

I've written before on this site about the magical island I live on -- and where my art studio is located: Saturna Island in the Salish Sea (the Straits of Georgia). It's quite appropriate that this fabulous setting will be home to an art show entitled "Of Fables and Myths".

It's enough just to explore this unspoiled island. And summer usually brings many visitors here. But now, I'd like to invite you to come celebrate an art event with me on Saturna.  APRIL 25, 2015 marks the opening of an exhibit of my paintings at the Saturna Café. You can view it whenever you step into the café from April 25 to July 9. But the opening is a special celebration that involves the community. As you can see from the notice below, there will be a reception from 4 to 6 pm followed a special dinner feast by our local chef, Hubertus (by reservation).

The show was curated by Jean-François Renaud, a resident curator whom I so enjoyed meeting. He has my gratitude for organizing these special events on Saturna and making community celebrations of them. It's such a small island, yet there are so many uniquely talented people here.

As a resident of Saturna for many years (traveling back and forth from Vancouver), I look forward to this opportunity to have my paintings shown in such a welcoming setting. I hope to share a toast with you at the opening. 

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about creative life, travels, tips and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News at https://www.janetstrayer.com

Regards, Janet 

 @ janetstrayer.com

Art the Mexican Way: Artful Puerto Vallarta at Year's End 2014

 

I've visited Puerto Vallarta several times, following the route taken by so many North Americans escaping a long winter at home.

This little village on Banderas Bay was way off the map until it hit movie star status. It was The Night of the Iguana, with John Huston directing Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, and Ava Garden among its spicy cast that turned what was then a picture-perfect fishing village into a stellar spot. The cinematic luminaries, apparently charmed by this location, stayed on and Puerto Vallarta has never since been the same. 

The promenade along the surf's crest in downtown Pto. Vallarta is called the Malecon. It is stunning, not only in its lovely views of water, sand, and sunset, but also in the artful way it undulates and its pavement patterns flow. The fanciful and anthropomorphic sculptures that accompany the seaside path are triumphs to the originality and appeal of Mexican art. 

 

Incredible, larger than life-size public art works in bronze by sculptors like Sergio Bustamante, Alejandro Colunga, Guillermo Gomez, Jonas Gutierrez, and Oscar Zamarripa have become rightly famous worldwide and continue to delight the public as emblems of this town. You can touch, sit or climb on them, or just enjoy and marvel at their ingenious company. So much visual art lives here, as in much of Mexico.

Huichol yarn painting by José Benito Sanchez

Over the years I've travelled and lived for months at a time in various regions of Mexico - from the Mayan southeast coast inward to Aztec Mexico, from Oaxaca through central areas and up to San Miguel de Allende, and sampling towns along the Pacific coast - I've always been inspired by the street art gracing even the dustiest of villages. I've been especially enchanted by the works made in clay and the wealth of folk art in all media, including the mesmerizing yarn and bead paintings and sculpture of the Huichol peyote culture (examples at the Colectika gallery, among others). 

wall of contemporary nichos (from pininterest)

Art here is a feast for the eyes -- visible in weavings, beadwork, jewelry, pottery, masks, and sculpture. Even the "nichos" (small niches originally serving as personal shrines or altars) made originally as devotional offerings by persons seeking, or grateful for, divine intervention are now adapted to more humorous contexts that delight viewers and tend to make a point. I've purchased several such works based on Mexican sayings. One little nicho I have, for example, highlights a single ornate shoe in a highly decorated enameled niche that reads (loosely translated): when your shoes are too comfortable, you forget you have feet. Make of that what you will. 

My point is that everything is subject to artistic transformation, including old bottle caps made into mixed-media paintings and earrings. The spontaneous outpouring of a creatively expressive culture is visible in its art. The active exercise of this energy is what I love about regional art... and art in general.

The distinction between "high" and "low" art seems arbitrary in places that have always maintained such populist roots and modes of expressivity. Coming into an art gallery or museum, visiting an artist's studio or seeing art on the street: what registers as "art" is something that stops you and draws you in for more, something that changes the way you view the world, even for a moment, affecting your thoughts and feelings, making something in you come more alive. 

 Of course, Mexico has its historical high-end visual art stars like Frida Kahlo. Diego Rivera was among the emigré group of artists in Paris that included Picasso and Modigliani. There are contemporary stars as well. You can see wonderful art at all prices and in all places, including dedicated art galleries.

Understandably, with the growth of the tourist trade and global appreciation of local artistic wonders, Mexican art galleries have also proliferated. I've enjoyed viewing a tradition of fabulous art in some of Pto. Vallarta's art galleries. I mean "fabulous" literally, as a tradition known to Mexican art of mixing the real and surreal into a magical realism uniquely latino.

painting by Raymondo Andrade

Among the many figurative examples that come to mind I can select from contemporary artists like Raymondo Andrade (the more intellectual) and Miguel Carillo (the more personal) who paint timelessly surreal figurative works. Along with Israel Zzepeda, one of my favorite artists here, these masterful artists create imaginative worlds one is invited to enter: worlds that are surprising, lovely, strange yet familiar, with narratives that one need not pin down reductively but that open us to possibilities.   

painting by Miguel Carrillo

painting by Rogelio Manza

     

Then there are the deconstructed but technically refined mixed-media portrayals of the relative newcomer, Rogelio Manza,

painting by Israel Zzpeda

The figure still reigns in Mexico, as it has culturally since pre-Columbian civilizations walked this ground. It's remarkable how many very fine painters have been self-taught (rather than formal art school graduates). Perhaps that contributes to a greater freedom from current art trends in vogue and more reliance on what one personally needs and wants artistically to do, given  the context of what is meaningful to his or her life and history.

Even when taken to abstract extremes, the face and figure remain an expressive focus in contemporary Mexican art. This is seen in the modernist work of Vladimir Cora as well as the lively naive styles of Rogelio Diaz (very textured) or of  Romgo.

painting by Vladimir Cora

painting by Rogelio Diaz

painting by Romgo

Love of  drawing and  of line seem a welcome feature of Mexican art, from ancient times to the present. 

The delicate abstract lines in its famously beautiful pottery traditions and the realistic or whimsical figures depicted  in paintings attest to the fine linear sense in Mexican art. Among many  examples are works by Fernando Pereznieto (whom  I collected in the 1980s) and current works on view in Pto.Vallarta's art galleries. 

Even as global art traditions influence art, a local Mexican influence seems to suffuse many of the artworks here, adding to their interest. 

painting by Gabriela Epstein

A vibrant sense of color and composition is a heritage in abstract works here as well (see work by Gabriela Epstein at Galeria Contempo, for example). Although I cannot define a distinctly Mexican feel to the current abstract paintings on view, as can be done with earlier abstracts by famous Mexican painters like Rufino Tamayo (who incorporated figurative aspects) or Pedro Coronel who referenced pre-Columbian art), they are decorative and attractive. 

Personally, I think it is figurative art that reigns in Mexico, whether it is expressed in a surreal, magical, whimsical, modernist, contemporary grunge or semi-abstract mode.

The galleries, themselves, provide some very appealing venues for displaying art. In contrast to the minimalist, antiseptic environment of many contemporary galleries, some here have several rooms to wander through, with welcome interior courtyards and fountains, as well as informed and friendly staff. Among my favorites are Galeria Dante for its diverse set of painters and sculptors and its appealing setting (if sometimes crowded walls), and its well-informed, friendly staff. Galeria Corsica is another, newer favorite (two related entrances across one another), with a lovely 2-storey setting in which to view distinct groupings of artwork.

Over the past few years, art galleries here have taken a hit, as has occurred elsewhere in the world. The traditional Wednesday night "art walk" in Pto. Vallarta seems to have shrunk in size and festivity. It feels a bit sad to me to have this celebration of art in any way diminished. Why might this be?

The rich are richer, I'm told in global news.  But where are they spending their money? If it's for art, it seems just the very high-end that's getting steeper. Certainly, the auction sales at Christie's have blown through the roof, with paintings selling for hundreds of millions. Yet, it's the mid-range venues, where real "finds" in art are made, before provenance and branding dictate price.

At mid-level galleries, seeing emerging artists "make it big" has been an exciting possibility. Nowadays, I experience less artistic buzz across galleries than I used to. Less of the excitement that always accompanied a new art show, a newly discovered talent or vision. In the past I've always benefited from galleries introducing and promoting artists unknown to me. In contrast, now I see more of the same assorted names circulating across the different galleries. Given the notable, if not equally numerous, array of women artists among famous 20th century Mexican painters (e.g., Frida Kahlo, Remedios Varo, Leona Carrington, Leonora Fini), it's disappointing not to see more women among the headliner artists on view.

I continue to love what I love among the art I find. But I miss the greater freedom of range, the celebration of diverse talent, the surprises and inspiration that Mexican galleries, in particular, had seemed to offer,  If I'm right, I hope this is more of a momentary squeeze than an enduring socio-economic trend across the many fine art galleries in Pto. Vallarta.

I'm posting this on a sunny Christmas day in Puerto Vallarta, having just past the winter solstice the Mexican way. Happy holidays to all. 

 

London Treat

Four Days in London

How about a trip to London for a jam-packed 4-day visit? London, England, that is, not closer-by London, Ontario. So much better. Sorry Canada! 

This wasn't the Big Ben-Tower-Buckingham Palace major-sights tour. This was a personal itinerary of  what we most wanted to do in our four days holiday. Only four days, but they were absolutely great.

 London is a roost for every bird. 

-- Benjamin Disraeli 

Historic Boutique Hotel in the Centre of Town

Our visit started with our reservations at a great little vintage hotel in the city. Quite an expense but wow! London is an expensive city and, if you're able to take the splurge, this hotel is worth it (said by a generally frugal traveller). Being here, in the heart of London, the Hazlitt hotel itself is a trip through history. Located on Frith Street,  near Leicester Square, very near Covent Garden, theatres, Soho art, and nearly everything on our agenda.  It was within walking distance of  the British Museum and  the National  Portrait Gallery. The Tate Modern could easily be reached by taking the underground.

The Hazlitt's period furniture coupled with its modern conveniences made for some nice surprises. The house is yours to enjoy, with its tea room and self-serve bar (complete with serving set and tea for you and company to brew). Its library, paintings and antique furniture in the corridors add to the treat of staying  there. The rooms are named, not numbered. Ours was the Madame Dufloz room, named, we were told, after a "well-reputed  prostitute" of the 19th century. I enjoyed that oxymoron and the room as well.

Our room was unusual. Open the first door and you enter a small wooden-panelled vestibule (seen below). Open the vestibule door to enter the large bedroom and adjacent and sitting area.You can see the mirrored vestibule through the windows inside the bedroom-sitting room. Why, I wondered, have this extra little hallway? I imagined some uses Mme. Dufloz might have for it, putting myself in her place en deshabille on the settee.

 

  The vestibule  door opened to the large and comfortable adjacent bedroom and sitting area with fireplace. Our modern wheelies spoil the impression, but I hadn't yet found the closets hidden within the panelled walls. The furnishings and fabrics must have delighted an interior decorator. 

   

The large bathroom had  a claw-foot tub and huge shower with copper fittings. But there was a problem: no toilet seen. An ornate wooden chair that looked as it came from a well-heeled priory stood along one wall. Lo and behold, lift up the flat wooden cover, and there it was! Throne, indeed.

The hotel staff were friendly and accommodating. They liked the place, too. And the Patisserie Valerie, down the street was to die for!

Our district was alive with people all the time. With all the buzz and action here, the hotel was so quiet, like entering another dimension. We slept wonderfully well, insulated from all outside but only steps from joining it. 

What did we do besides enjoy our hotel? We walked, took the tube, benefitted from dollops of genuine friendliness among Londoners, and saw something wonderful every day.  We also ate surprisingly  well. When did London turn into a fine dining city? I remember it as a banger-and-beans place, plus a few “exotic" take-outs”that served souvlaki or East Indian. I haven’t been to London for years, obviously. Now it was both an edible and fun city! 

View  of London from British Museum  restaurant, 

Museums

Here’s a rundown of what we did: The Courtauld Collection, an absolute treasure of paintings on my must-see list, plus the workplace of a favourite art historian cum novelist, Anita Brookner.  The Tate Modern was another must-see. I was less impressed by the work there than I’d expected, but the space is stunning for showing art. The National Portrait Gallery is a bit stodgy but shows how portraiture changed over the centuries as life changed. The British Museum just doesn’t get any better -- even when  crowded, it leaves you space to roam and discover. Its rooftop restaurant is a fine place for lunch and a view of London town.

I love wandering through museums, and the British Museum is one of the best. Just for fun, I picked out one of the items that made me stop and look. There were many, but this expression caught my attention: he looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him!

Sumerian? British Museum, 

Theatre

We managed to fit in three theatre shows in just four days! We chose the shows based on tickets available, given the great rep of most London productions. All were good: The Woman in Black (very well acted); The Jersey Boys (odd thing to see in London but I'd never seen it on Broadway, and this production could not be beat;  and Singing in the Rain. 

Hampton Court

One unforgettable trip we took was to Hampton Court. Thanks to London-born and bred colleagues who told us we really should not miss Hampton Court… at least once in a lifetime. They were right.

In about an hour's train ride from London, you reach a greener area that appears a world in itself. Below is a glimpse the countryside with Hampton Court in the distance. It was Henry VIII's retreat after he seized it as a "gift" from Cardinal Wolsey.

Having just read Hilary Mantel’s two books on Thomas Cromwell put me in the right time frame for entering Hampton Court. And there he was: Henry VIII come to life, strolling the grounds imperially. Along came a smiling Ann Bolyne, although you knew she had little reason to smile. 

We spent a wonderful day wandering the castle grounds, exploring its layout as a self-contained little community serving the needs of a (rather self-indulgent) king. Strolling the interiors with all its historic art and furnishings.  The connecting buildings extending along the court included kitchens where chefs cooked actual Renaissance feasts  that seemed to go on forever (the smells were good, and the fireplaces enormous). We saw quill-written recipes in hard to read old English. We listened to doctors very earnestly diagnosing medical humours of the time: "sanguine but tending toward phlegmatic ” We even saw the impressive line of castle privies along  one external wall, with waterworks engineered for them. We went into the castle chambers to hear a debate among Henry’s ministers, then continued to walk through living history.   

                                  

  

  

Everything came to life in this outing to Hampton Court, informatively and not in a Disney-like manner. There were more adult visitors than children, and the level of information was appropriate for all. I wished I could  have stayed overnight. Henry made sure each privileged guest's room had its own privy.  But I'm not sure the threat of beheading would have been worth the overnight.

We tried navigating our way through the historic garden maze. Imagine all that must have gone on there. I hit a few blind alleys, but quickly found my way. I used some sightings of modern buildings in the distance (higher than the garden maze walls) that would not have been available to long-ago maze wanderers. We sat for a bit in the rose garden purveying the grounds before leaving with many memories of Hampton Court.  

It was our last night, and spending it at the Hazlitt was a good finale to a good trip. A genuine treat of a holiday. 

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here

 @ janetstrayer.com