Palais Princier

Palais Princier
Monaco
23 November 1996
Watercolor on cold press Lana paper
6 x 4", archival mat & backing to 10 x 8"
US $195 (includes USPS Priority Shipping)
Email me to purchase

I am increasingly reluctant to write this posts. Not to post the paintings, mind you, but to write the stories behind them. I suppose that any sort of looking back has its own set of hesitancies. One part of me thinks that stories should be somehow cheerful or filled with interaction and plot and so forth. Why? Those sorts are rarely the stories I fall into as a reader. And what stories would those be, anyway? (I'll stop on that track now before riding away on the train of digression).

In fact, this solo touring was just that, solitary. And I was not in a very strong emotional state, quite the opposite. I felt isolated, bereft and worried. The settling in Nice for a couple of weeks took away the daily rush and distraction of travel and performance and I was left to settle into my own not very ebullient psyche. Of course, this was exacerbated by the fact that I was in a foreign country surrounded by the babble of a foreign tongue (perhaps the only time you will hear the fine language of French referred to such). At another time, even at another time of year, I may have easily slid in and out of relationships and semblances of conversation with residents and fellow travelers. But not that November.

Still, even bobbing up and down in my own little sea of depression, I managed to pull myself out of the lumpy bed each morning, pack my paints, look at the map and decide where to travel to explore and paint. Emerging from the hotel, I would keep an eye out for a coffee and brioche on my way to the train station. It was fabulous, really. With the Eurail pass I'd bought for touring, I was able to hop on the little train at Nice and be off to any destination I would feel like up and down the Côte d'Azur. What a treat. On this day, I picked Monaco, where Grace Kelly became a princess.

Kelly was a big name in Philadelphia where I grew up. Grace Kelly's father owned a big Brickworks and her brother was a city councilman. Both John Sr. and Jr. rowed on the Schuylkill River for the Vesper Boat Club where some of my high school friends competed "all together". My father was not in Vespers but rowed single skull on the Schuylkill for years.

I first walked down to Monte Carlo but it seemed shuttered and barren. So back up the steps to the palace. Monaco felt like a toy kingdom, diminutive and clean. In fact, I really didn't get the whole picture of Monaco. The day became increasingly raw and overcast and I'd read nothing and made no preparations for the visit, I'd only packed my paints. I could say that about each day really — I mostly let the painting lead me. The painting kept me company and gave me purpose.

Before the wind came up and temperature dropped any further, I opened my knapsack and set the paper block on a parapet along the city wall. Just as in Grasse, eventually my fingers were frozen stiff so I packed up and finished the painting back in my hotel room.

Every Sunday I post a new painting and story behind the watercolors I made while touring as a singer songwriter. Follow the stories behind the paintings of these serialized posts by working your way up from the bottom.