Bust of Jean Cocteau
(before la Chapelle St. Pierre)
Villefranche sur Mer, France
28 November 96
Watercolor on cold press Lana paper
6 x 4", archival mat & backing to 10 x 8"
US $195 (includes USPS Priority Shipping)
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On the 27th, I hopped the train to Eze. The train stops at Eze Bord de Mer, right on the sea. Not really knowing where I was going (sound familiar?), I looked for some tourist information. The kiosk was closed so I looked around and spied a small sign that said "Chemin de Nietzsche". Ok, I thought, I'll walk the trail. It looked like it might head up to the main village of Eze. It was a very nice walk although I must have turned off the trail at a certain point because suddenly I was in the brambles and climbing a very steep incline. I looked back and was surprised at the height I'd reached. It seemed closer for me to reach the top then to head back down so I continued up the rough terrain. Finally I reached the back patio of a restaurant, turned around and realized that I'd just climbed a cliff! No wonder I was so beat. I wandered around the very interesting, very old stone village and finally collapsed for some lunch. All I wanted to do was hop back on the train, get back to the hotel and lay down. This was not a day for painting. When I went in search of a bus to ride back down to the sea, I learned that no buses were running till May. May? Taxi? No taxis here! So I walked all the way back down to the train station. By road that time. I was tired but it was a lovely day (once out of the wind at the top of the cliff), the streets were pleasant and the view, fabulous.
The next day was Thanksgiving. Alone, even on the Riviera on a beautiful, sunny day, I was feeling pretty low. I bought a copy of the International Herald Tribune (which I read every day in Nice) and headed to Villefranche sur Mer where there was a chapel that Jean Cocteau had painted. I was disappointed but not surprised to find that la Chapelle St. Pierre was closed for the month of November. So I sat down in the little stone courtyard next to the chapel on the edge of the sea and made this painting of the bronze bust fine coated with verdigris. Old women sat nearby on the sea wall repairing big fishing nets. The sun danced on the sea. It really did. A lumbering Golden Retriever splashed through the waves on the sandy beach behind me. I thought about Cocteau.
The painting did not lift my spirits that day which really added to my woe. How can I be sitting on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea on a magnificent day like today, I thought, and have my head and heart lost inside a black cloud? I swung my legs over the edge of the sea wall and glanced through the Herald Tribune. My eyes fell on an Art Buchwaldcolumn, Le Grand Thanksgiving. I read it. I laughed out loud. What good medicine! I was lifted out of the shadows and very grateful. When I got back to the states, I wrote Buchwald a letter telling him the story and included a CD. He wrote me back a very nice note thanking me for the CD and for telling me what was going on in my life. "I'm glad I could make you feel good." he wrote.
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.
Bust of Jean Cocteau
