High Contrast Grey.

A return to Fougères with others for spring break.

It seems that none of the architecture, nor the city planning is straight in France.

The nights have been cold and where the ability to take reference photos of Rennes at night was presented, I had to cut it short as my fingers began to freeze so much that even the simple operations on my camera became difficult.

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I have a feeling that when I return that all these photos that I have taken will become my lifeline for artistic inspiration. I still have 800 some photos left on my SD card.. it feels strange that I will have not cleared the card for almost a year by the time I return to the states. A collection that I hope to never lose.

Our next day in Paris we took a stroll without destination through Montmartre. Of course stopping by the square filled with artists to look at their work. Since the cliché for paintings here is that of street scenes of French architecture I was entralled to see new techniques and ideas. Perhaps it isn’t really the avant-garde of modern art, but it pleased me a lot to look at. There was one of the artists who used a piece of bamboo cut into a point as a quill pen that he would dip into a small jar of ink. This was then followed by watercolor that turned the picture into a beautiful colored painting. Simple, but the detail was amazing with the erratic line quality.

The simple watercolor paintings that I have been coming across in France have led to quite a lot of inspiration for me, but I just hope that I will be able to use this inspiration improve my own watercolors. Perhaps when I no longer have to worry about my paintings for painting class.

We met an Egyptian who told us that even though he was born in Egypt, his soul is French. His paintings looked a bit like color field theory, but not in the way that student’s work looks. There were layers built up and then the paint was paired with gold leaf. It changed color with every angle.

They talked about art. His inspiration. His subject matter abstracted. They talked about the problems of the world and how it seems that the major powers are all about to shift.

Saturday market in Rennes.

I head to the market late and come across this lady grinding her organ and singing Padam Padam. I have to say that I love the French clichés.

With the accordion festival in town the one show I wanted to catch was the burlesque show, but as I stand in line to get my ticket I soon find that it isn’t the line for tickets but the line for people with tickets and that the show had already sold out.

I tried to not let this completely kill my evening and I went for a walk in search of something else to do. I still don’t quite know this town nor anyone that I could just call up to hit the town with. So my walk led me in circles though the maze of streets that makes up centre ville.

I don’t think there is a street in centre ville I have yet to walk multiple times.

While going on my walk I came across this sight of a man sitting at one of the outside tables at the bar. He was looking down, not moving, while next to him on the table there sat a glass of red wine that looked untouched.

Picturesque with a hint of assumed existentialism.

Saturday market and a punk rocker playing an accordion.

Not having good change I ended up getting over charged 10 euros. Another one of those times where I wish that I didn’t feel like language was a barrier, since I couldn’t think of how to bring up that I wasn’t given my change..

On a good note I did get some fresh figs which I have been cutting up and putting in with my yogurt.

Pharmacy across from the women’s prison.

I wandered the area around the metro stop Jacques Cartier to try and find the thrift store near by. I arrived early, when they were still closed for the two hour french lunch time, and was hoping to find some other treasures in the area. But only found the women’s prison and residential houses.

Too much sunlight. I think I might have developed some mild heatstroke, which made my sickness that was just about gone to come back and take a new foothold.

I kind of miss the overcast days already..

The streets at sunset.

I was looking for a café or bar to just sit and paint in the evening. Taking in the French culture, while working on my art.

Looking for inspiration. An inspiration more tangible than the constant here.

I tried my little crazy Breton bar, but it was closed for reasons not explained or understood. So I wandered like one of the many homeless dogs around here.

I find a bar and I sit outside. Under a bright light that distorts all reality of the night but provides excelent light for painting.

The drink ‘whiskey ginger’ doesn’t traslate, but I was led to believe it does until I received an 8 euro whiskey with rocks on the side. Good, but no ginger to accompany.

It gets later and the bar switches from jazz to dance club music.

I leave and run into americans searching for a French sandwich called a Scooby Doo. Something so greasy that only drunks can truely appreciate it.

After dinner we take the metro back home and as we come out of the Kennedy station we hear African drumming.

For the past few days tents have been set up next to the metro station, but none of us are quite sure as to why. During the day they seem to have booths set up to talk about growing plants in the urban center, and other things just seeming to talk about what can be done in an urban center to better it. There as well seem to be presentations for children as seas of children appear before the stage from time to time as I pass through the area.

One of those odd little nuances it seems. Coming home from dinner and running into some African drumming on the street. Why not? Its France.

Carousel at sunset.

I went out to dinner last night with the other Americans from Carolina. Pizza and spaghetti sitdown joint. Because we were a group of five we were placed in the backroom next to the refridgerator. I made a joke about us all being too ugly to be allowed to sit up front. I got weird looks as a response to the joke.

I got a vegetarian pizza with mushrooms, green peppers, and eggplant. And a shot glass half filled with pastis and one quickly melting round ice cube. It had a beautiful soft green color to it. I have heard it called an old man drink, but like usual I like the flavor of licorice (or anise seed in this case).

I returned to the market this morning, although I read the internets wrong and thought that the market opened back up at 8h. In reality it opened at 10h, so I wandered the streets for two hours and since it was a Sunday and nothing in France was open, except for a few bakeries that I walk by in the chill morning air. I bought some pastry with apples that I had never heard of before. I used this purchase to break a larger bill in preparation for the market. Instead of euro coins I was given a small handfull of 50 centimes.

I saw the bartender from the ‘crazy’ Breton bar [I walked by it to find out the real name; Distribil]. He smiled and said ‘salut.’ I think he lives in the bar and was going out for his morning shopping.

I felt as though I was in a dance with the street sweeper.

The Rue de la Soif was a mine field of broken glass and discarded plastic cups. I’m still not sure if all the red drips I see on the ground are blood or not… The drips that then smeared onto the store front glass, probably.

I find 5 centimes mixed in with all the garbage on the walkway; 2 deux centimes and an une centime coin.

Sitting at a café I watch the carousel workers remove the metal grating and tarp that was put on for the night. Children and parents gather to get on and watch, some bring chairs. The song Nantes by Beirut chimes its opening note through the old cracking speakers and the carousel begins to turn. The first rides of the day begin.

Parfait. 

I went by the market this morning to get a few item for making food.

Garlic now hangs from my window latch. The decor is sparse, but that will change.

[Hopefully there will be some cheap pots and pans at the flea market tomorrow. Until then I got some avacados, so french bread and avacados will have to do.]

These beautiful overcast days have been perfect..

My assignment for my architecture class is that the class is extremely independent and that I don’t need to worry about such things as assignments.

I have taken this to mean that I should build up a collection of photography and sketches of architecture in Rennes.

I guess the class meeting times will be filled with discussions, although I am not too sure what this will mean.

I need to return to this spot again though to capture the giant wall mural by Blu. First time I don’t have my camera when I come across it. Second time I thought that I had blocked the sun with my hand from leaving a spot on the picture, but when looking at it on the computer screen a small one had made it though, right to the center.

This photo is my cliché contrast of old and new architecture.

The absinthe bar has been finished…

Although I still need to ink in the hinge on the window. (shhh…)

Out of all the paintings that I had hanging in the show, I was surprised this one wasn’t the one that sold, but it is my latest so I still feel the most attached to it..