Iconic Paris Paintings

During my 14 year sojourn in Paris a few sights always caught my eye. The Eiffel tower and the cobblestones. During its construction the Eiffel tower was heavily criticized by artists and writers. They considered it to be a monstrous erection that violated the Parisian canon of beauty.

The skeleton is sort of out place amongst the Haussmannian architecture. Perhaps it was the beginning of the dystopian era. Where beauty and harmony are sacked for function and shock. It is a “sight” and climbing it is always an event. I took the photo for this painting on my way to meet girlfriends for dinner on rue de Monttessuey. The drizzly fog cast halos from the shop lights. My minds eye saw the painting while I stood in the middle of the friggin boulevard with cars racing around me.

The first time I went up the Eiffel Tower I was 9 months pregnant. Pregnant women didn’t wait in line, despite nasty protests from tired tourists. At the time the lines were awfully long. Now that’s changed. My idea was that my baby would be born on the top. Luckily that didn’t happen. I was more than ready to lay that egg.

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The cobblestones in the Latin Quarter and the 6th arrondissements are the other thing that always mesmerize me. I had visually integrated cobblestones because I walked on them for years in Italy. Feet baking rocks they are. The could probably melt iron in Florence. The rocks on Nantucket Island that feign for cobblestones are insane. You need moon boots to navigate them. In Paris they are special because it rains often, like all the time. You can get away with stilettos unless the apéro dinatoire lasted until 1am. Then it’s a barefoot boogie.

These two sexy paintings are available for sale via Singulart. Clic on the images for the link.

#eiffeltower #latinquarter #Paris

Three Parisian Waiters & the Shakti School

Before I show you my new work, I decided to spill the beans about a secret that I’ve kept for over a year. In 2020 I began donating a percentage of my sales Saving Lives in Rishikesh and to the Shakti School of Arts for girls in Rishikesh.

Through a series of events and a common friend I was put in touch with Ram Das and Tarini Ma who take care of lots of people in Venezuela and in Rishikesh. It all started when I was cleaning out my closets and saw a post on Facebook from Ram Das saying that they needed clothes and if anyone could donate them. I’d been following them for a while. I never sent the clothes because the pandemic blocked all entry of used clothes. But now my art sales go to helping young girls learn art, girls who otherwise would have no education. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to go there and meet the wonderful Tarini Ma and Ram Das. And what a dream it would be to teach a few classes on painting and drawing.

And here are the three Parisian Waiters. They are each 120×40 cm, oil on canvas. I love these three magical Parisian Serveurs. They look so chic in this white kitchen with a marble wall. Red, black and white are the colours of Parisian bistrots. One of these guys worked at L’académie de la Biere on Boulevard de Port Royal before he moved on the Cafe Delmas in Place Contrescarpe. These three waiters were all working the terrasse of Cafe Delmas when I immortalised them. Ever since I saw the Flute Player by Manet, I wanted to paint a full body portrait on a simple collared ground. Le Fifre inspired me also for the colours. These make a great triptych and they are available here on Singulart. They are named Gars Dumas 1,3 & 4. Number 2 sold. There were four of them.

A window of Paris on your wall

The Latin quarter in Paris was my digs, but I spent lots of time in the 12th. I lived in the 5th arrondissement and walked up or down rue Mouffetard at least once a day. I wrote a flash fiction about it. In the summer time, on Sunday mornings, it smells like roasting chicken, fresh seafood, camembert, wine, kebob, fresh baked bread, tobacco smoke and a cocktail of smells from last night’s partying that isn’t worth mentioning. Quite the cacaphony for sensitive nostrils.

The market on rue Mouffetard is a wonderful muse. I painted it many times. This painting is one of my best. I like the white reflecting off the cobblestones. Once it poured down rain when I walked on those stones. I ended up removing my shoes because they were useless. I had to toss them.

This painting has a history. It was in a gallery in Beruit and in Honfleur. Now it is for sale through Singulart. Here is what it would like hanging on your wall.

I just love sipping coffee in the morning and staring at Angie’s painting of Paris on my wall. I feel like I’m there everyday.

Client in California

In the 12th arrondissement the yoga studios were concentrated. I’d ride my bike there or fly down the sidewalks on my kick scooter to get to Om Sweet Om, where I taught classes. On my way I’d stop to photograph the cafes.

100×100 cm Blue Hour at Brasserie l’Européen

The Brasserie l’Européen is one of my favorites. It’s directly across from Gare de Lyon. It’s shiny; all chrome and mirrors. Paris 1980’s. I enjoyed painting this awning. The yellow and green light contrasts with the violet color of the buildings in the background. The man in the red coat is making seafood platters.

Here is what it would look like on your wall.

How I found freedom from my dream

This past year has been a time for reflection and it’s brought big changes in my work. Looking back I see that I realized the dream of my youth.

What was that dream ?

Move to Paris and be an artist. Dreams are attainable. In 1988 I left the US with 400$ in my pocket and a one way ticket to Italy. During the 21 years I lived there I carved a niche in space and built a career.

Then one day I woke up and saw that wasn’t the life I wanted. I sold everything and moved to Paris. People said I was stupid to give away all that I had built and move for the unknown. I had everything in the material world that would make 90% of the people happy. Including a house on the Etruscan coast. Every summer I spent 3 months at the sea…

But Paris was the destination. And it’s been good to me.

Then last year the persona Angie the Artist seemed to vanish. Nothing worked, nothing sold. I was in the red and digging. I had to get a job. I was terrified. I had to get a facial🤣 and I sobbed for an entire day. Starbucks refused me. Amorino didn’t even respond. My ego was a doormat.

Thank God I was practicing Hatha and Nada Yoga everyday. The vritti were calm.

I wanted a job where I didn’t have to think. I cleaned a house and the lady never paid me. I didn’t want to teach English though I had a good CV and I’d been smart enough to get a teaching certificate. Just before the massive strikes last December I interviewed with Cap English.

Then the strikes hit.

They offered me classes the next day because many of their teachers couldn’t get to work. I walked 3 hours in the rain to teach for 3 hours then another 3 hour walk to get home…

I subbed in different schools until in one school the teachers begged me to take over because the former teacher left.

I never knew how much I would like teaching. I even forget I exist when I’m writing on the blackboard. I was liberated from the persona Angie the Artist because I was enjoying myself, thought I did have to think 😉. No time wasted declaring taxes, doing marketing. No pressure.

One day during the lunch pause I looked at a tree and thought how the tree was content. It didn’t need to be anyone. It didn’t have to pretend

I was liberated from a 30+ year ego trip.

And now I am free to paint, scuplt, and play music.

Postcard from Paris n67

watercolor of a parisian cafe

watercolor of a parisian cafe
n 67 Mojito and Martini

N67  -10x15cm ink, watercolor on Arches paper

I’ve tried all the cafes in Place Contrescarpe. Reluctantly, I inevitably return to Cafe Delmas. The waiters are crisp. The leather club chairs are luxurious. The lighting is low. It’s got atmosphere. It’s got this, j’en sais pas, feeling. All it’s missing is a fireplace.

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Dated and noted. Colors on screen may vary from the actual real live illustration.

Will post anywhere in the world with the message of your choice. An envelope and standard postal shipping is included in the price.

All postcards are 25 Euro.

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Postcard from Paris n66

watercolor of a parisian cafe

watercolor of a parisian cafe
n 66 Saturday homework at the Cafe

N66  -10x15cm ink, watercolor on Arches paper

It’s interesting to me to see young adults meet in a cafe to study. They seem so saavy to me. They have to escape the house, away from parents and younger siblings, go where it’s easier to study.

I can’t remember the name of this cafe but it’s in the 13th on Rue Tolbiac, near Olympiades.

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Dated and noted. Colors on screen may vary from the actual real live illustration.

Will post anywhere in the world with the message of your choice. An envelope and standard postal shipping is included in the price.

All postcards are 25 Euro.

Purchase

Postcard from Paris n65

illustration of a Parisian cafe

illustration of a Parisian cafe
65 Morning coffee at the Canon des Gobelins

N65  -10x15cm ink, watercolor on Arches paper

 

Everytime I see these plank floors I think of Gustave Caillebotte’s Les Raboteurs de Parquet .

Can’t see the planks? I know, I know. Just pretend.

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Dated and noted. Colors on screen may vary from the actual real live illustration.

Will post anywhere in the world with the message of your choice. An envelope and standard postal shipping is included in the price.

All postcards are 25 Euro.

Purchase

Postcard from Paris n64

illustration of a Parisian cafe

illustration of a Parisian cafe
n 64 tables set  Cave la Bourgogne

N64  -10x15cm ink, watercolor on Arches paper

The Cave la Bourgogne is one of my favorite places in the neighborhood. One sunday morning in winter we were there after shopping in the Mouffetard market. It was January 1st and a bone chilling wind whipped the water spraying from the fountain. I don’t know why the fountain was pumping water.  Didn’t the city think the pipes could have frozen? Whatever.

We were sipping a hot beverage, propably coffee. Can’t get enough of the stuff in the mornings. As we swallowed hot java we gazed out the window. It’s a lovely window. Big… There to our amazement came two guys. It was clear they’d been paryting all night long to celebrate the end of the year. They’d lost their coats along the way. One of the dudes was wearing a short sleeved white t-shirt. One step up from a wife-beater. He wasn’t feeling the cold at all. Because he waved to his friend from the ledge of the fountain then hopped into the water.

I’ll never forget the look on his face after he emerged from the icy water. Stone cold. All trace of tan washed off in the fountain. It was pathetically funny. I felt bad for laughing because he was hurting bad. We watched them hobble away with a very different esprit.

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Dated and noted. Colors on screen may vary from the actual real live illustration.

Will post anywhere in the world with the message of your choice. An envelope and standard postal shipping is included in the price.

All postcards are 25 Euro.

Purchase