The Duck, Duck Goose, Goose Tour
with The Wild Irishman
France 2008
There have been all kinds of things come up this week. First, I am moving to this town here:
It's called Fontvieille. I'm reasonably sure Joe Montana will follow me and pretty sure The Pup will visit regularly. Benihana will want to negotiate, of course, so I will introduce him to her:
She's on my side. Second thing, and I never saw this coming, is this: I'm pretty sure I am an E/V comp ho. First, it was just once or twice and then, all the time. Now I can't stop. But until I start making good choices about my F-stops, I am driven, I am compelled, I really don't have a choice, oh hell, who am I kidding? I am an E/V Comp ho. sigh.
Yesterday, we went to St. Remy to St-Paul Clinique where Van Gogh 
committed himself when his illness began to take over his life. I was deeply moved to see where 'The Starry Night' was painted and walk in the garden where the iris, the sunflowers, the olive trees grew that inspired so many iconic works of art. As I absorbed the harsh, unrelenting, beautiful and provocative landscape, I knew how deeply Van Gogh suffered and how his work must have soothed and tormented him, all in a continuous slide show that just kept dropping in new frames. In the stiffling heat of the late afternoon I walked through the mounds of lavendar softly swaying in a hot, hazy breeze and felt his 
pain and his isolation. And as I looked to the hills, I could see a black sky swirling with constellations of difficulty and disaster. It was time to leave but I turned back for one last look and this time, the sky was a panaramic ocean of swirls of delicately choreographed fireworks, splashing periwinkle, yellow, blue and silver across a navy night sky.
committed himself when his illness began to take over his life. I was deeply moved to see where 'The Starry Night' was painted and walk in the garden where the iris, the sunflowers, the olive trees grew that inspired so many iconic works of art. As I absorbed the harsh, unrelenting, beautiful and provocative landscape, I knew how deeply Van Gogh suffered and how his work must have soothed and tormented him, all in a continuous slide show that just kept dropping in new frames. In the stiffling heat of the late afternoon I walked through the mounds of lavendar softly swaying in a hot, hazy breeze and felt his 
pain and his isolation. And as I looked to the hills, I could see a black sky swirling with constellations of difficulty and disaster. It was time to leave but I turned back for one last look and this time, the sky was a panaramic ocean of swirls of delicately choreographed fireworks, splashing periwinkle, yellow, blue and silver across a navy night sky. We all suffer, I guess, but when we are doing our best work we just keeping painting the next picture as we can see it, with ambition and resolve, and know that outrageous beauty can be born out of pain and solitude. So my love to you tonight, my darlings; I know it's hard. But step into the night sky and and look for stars. The one that's twinkling at you is me.
JBelle
On Location
Arles, France
4 comments:
How ironic. I'm moving there too... for a minute, whenever I need to.
Love to you... big, beautiful, bouganvilla colored love.
I saw it! The star, I mean. Thanks, mom!
xoxo!
I actually sat in me garden real late last night, trying against all odds to make sense of my life....
I couldnt see any stars, it was cloudy..... I was all alone....... again..
(((JBelle))))
oxo
This must be the trip of a lifetime or lifetimes. I envy you and at the same time know what you see. In my world, slightly different. In my garden I often sit and breathe in the pungent aromas and allow myself to bask in the cascade of colors and know that all is well.
No matter how awful things are, to sit in a quiet garden alone makes all see right.
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