A Southern Voyage
A few weeks ago I ventured south for some sun and sand and quickly understood how the Cote d’Azur earned its reputation. This stretch of coastal France teems with natural beauty and sensorial delight. It’s the kind of place that demands your slow and careful attention—a perfect place for an artist.
The south of France was home for many artists and inspiration for many more. Yves Klein came from Nice, whose eponymous electric blue pigment shares a resemblance to the famous shoreline. Matisse abandoned his somber hues and awakened to his now trademark pastels after a visit to Collioure (see this painting compared to this one). Even Picasso had a postwar stint in Antibes that inspired lighthearted paintings of Chouette (his rescued pet owl), sea creatures, and flowers. It seems that this same spirit lives on today, finding new hosts where it can express itself and lull them with the hypnotic ease of the French Mediterranean.
Picasso and Chouette
I found myself bitten by this same inspiration bug (along with dozens of mosquitos) and absorbed all the sights, sounds, and smells around me: I heard the daily roar of cicadas, smelled dry sweet pine needles, marveled at cream colored stucco houses and flowers tumbling out of pastel boxes, felt the sticky sea salt dry tacky layers on my skin, and smelled brackish odors stewing with dried sea grass. I watched two pigeons nestle in on the window sill across the street at 9:15 every night, preening and plucking each others’ mites, as we would brush our teeth before bed. I named them Pete and John. I took all of these observations with me and wanted to know what the artists here did too. So, I talked to a couple of them.
. . .
My first interview with an artist was in Antibes. My partner Joel spotted an art gallery beside the outdoor market we were bobbing through and wandered in. The gallery was called Côté Marché and the artist is Nathalie Leguillou. Her paintings were large, expressive, bright, and depicted mostly seaside landscapes and flowers. It’s as if she took all the electric, singing colors of the natural scenery of Antibes and swirled them into her paintings.
After several minutes of admiring her work, Joel greased the social wheels and chatted her up. I’m not usually prone to shyness, but I clammed up faster than an oyster about to get shucked. I eventually chimed in with a question about the medium and if she used any varnish (she did not). We wove in and out of English and French, and then I asked how she started her career: Nathalie worked in politics in Paris before she became an artist full-time. Years ago, she hosted her first vernissage (a private showing of one’s work) at a gallery in the 13th arrondissement. She then started splitting her time between her art and her career, as well as her time spent in Paris and Antibes. Eventually she moved to Antibes and became a full-time artist (super cool). Along with her paintings, she had some impressive sculptures as well, comprised mostly of bronze and clay. When I asked how she trained to create this, she said that she didn’t—one day someone presented her with some clay and the rest was history.
One particularly beautiful sculpture was one she had made of her mother. A gentle smile, fine lines, and soft eyes were lovingly etched into the clay. Sometimes, it’s easy to tell when an artist has a greater sentimentality towards one of their works—there could be more detail in the facial expression, softer lines, or more expressive colors. It’s a great pleasure to observe this in an artist’s collection and, if you’re lucky enough to have the artist there, listen to them talk about it.
Nathalie’s gallery
Another standout gallery moment occurred on a solo excursion to Biot, which is a tiny, medieval, artist enclave nestled in the southern alps. It was a mighty and mini pilgrimage by train and foot from Antibes, crossing roads without sidewalks and hiking up a large hill, and absolutely worth it.
Among the several artisans with whom I spoke that day, Kim Cap stood out because of her craft, her kindness, and her story. Kim is a stained-glass artist whose works perfectly encapsulate the sentiment of their titles (have a look “Gatsby” to see what I mean). Kim fell in love with the craft early on but there weren’t any fine arts schools near her hometown where she could do this kind of work. So, she picked up every book that she could find on stained-glass and taught herself how to do it. Bad. Ass. In addition to her solo work, Kim also collaborates with other artists in Biot from time to time. She explained that she and another artist will select a theme, create works in response to that, and host a vernissage together.
Kim warmly answered my questions, enthusiastically inquired about my own art, and slowly spoke in French so I could understand her. I look forward to returning to her gallery sometime to chat and pick up a few of her oh-so-silly Scrappy Birds. (She ships internationally so I highly recommend checking out her work if you’re interested!)
Medieval walls in Biot
…
Coming back from this trip and reflecting on these conversations, I have some key takeaways:
Talking to people about their work (especially in person) is a worthwhile endeavor.
There’s no one way to be an artist, which is as daunting as it is reassuring. I was also fortunate to speak with artists who have had less conventional paths to this career, reaffirming how it can be done without attending one of France’s premier fine arts institutions.
It’s important to try new things and experiment. I don’t have to have a 15-step plan or prior research to try something new. (Noted from Nathalie randomly experimenting with clay one day, which has now become one of her primary mediums.)
Being part of a community of artists can inspire and uplift me, and improve and refine my work. (Noted from Kim working with a community of other artists who put on shows together—a great idea for an artist starting out as well. I gotta find me one of these groups.)
Something about being outside of your home-base takes the pressure off of these initial conversations too. There’s some space between myself and my work, offering a different perspective on the career I’m going after and the work itself. However, my next goal is to talk to someone in the neighborhood... ‘Til then, wish me luck!
