THE WHITE GODDESS

"There is something about the moon that makes you want to wonder", I wrote, to began an essay in a writing class when I was nineteen. Professor Butterworth had given us an assignment to attempt "a stream of consciousness" style. I succeeded and was asked to read it to the class.

The day when man set foot on the Alka Selzer in the sky, my wonder-lust was punctured. Not so for my roommate who thought it to be a fitting date to offer her virginity to the guy down the hall. This way, she thought, I'll never forget the date.

The moon has always been with me and I with her. When full and round, I sigh . The first thumb nail - Instant hope.

This fall the Harvest moon was gigantic as it posed on the trees next to the dome Sacre Coeur. I pointed it out to the Sri Lankan boys working in the souvenir shop at the bottom of the hill. One ran with his camera-phone to catch a photo. I asked him what he was planning to do with it.

"Send it to my wife back home." He smiled.

"Doesn't she have the same one?" I inquired.

"Yes." he replied, still smiling.

That was the answer.

"About the first of the night when I had slept my first sleep, I awaked with sudden fear and saw the moon shining bright and seeming as though she leaped out of the sea." Apulius's Golden Ass

I picked up a book at a Rummage sale last Saturday. The White Goddess by Robert Graves.

It is extraordinary and from it I took the title of this post and retitled the above water color.

I found Graves' writing nourishing and magical . Makes me feel in love,

but, don't tell Claudio even when the moon is full.

COLLAGE recent water colors

THERE IS A SEASON turn turn

Café de la Paix Warm and Cozy

Bûcherie de la Paix Cold and friendly

There was a time when I braved the bitter cold and painted outside in mid-winter without even thinking about it. And there were days in March when the wind blew so fiercely, my easel fell

a dozen times or more. I trudged on like the mailmen of yesteryear.

Now, I sit happily painting my dream seen water-colors as if that alone is why I was put on this

Earth.

LE BEAUJOLAIS NOUVEAU EST ARRI...STOP THE MUSIC

"A little Banana..."

"NON."

Stop the music! Wait a second!

I just heard that the Beaujolais Nouveau is not ready.

The third Thursday in November is the offciel date to celebrate since I can remember. When Les Halles was still a hole in the ground and I was doing odd jobs at Mother Earth's on the rue des Lombards,( not the first American restaurant in Paris, but the grooviest),

The wine distributor for Mother's, let me sample it the day before the official designated date.

I still remember his blue overalls, white hair, and red face as he as he unveiled the bottle from

under his jacket - nearly a capital crime.

The festival has since grown to a world wide sensation. some restaurants in New York had it delivered via the Concord - so to be the first.

This year, a vineyard announced that because June was quite cold, the harvest was late. They advised their customers to wait until it's really ready.

What next?

Parties are scheduled in all the cafés in Montmartre just the same and the folk will drink the recently harvested wine

green as it is.

FROM THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

I spent three weeks in the country this fall in a region appropriately called Le Centre.

Geographically, the center of France. Otherwise, in the middle of no where. Not a one horse town. Many horses grazing on the verdure - nice horses. Nice cows also.

I hope they (the cows) remember me as I remember them - coming up to the fence staring, chewing, emontionless as adolescent boys on a street corner.

There was a wooded area nearby frequented by hunters of wild boar and deer during their season. We were only there for the wild mushroom chase.

There was also a café in this hamlet and a beureau de poste open for a couple hours in the morning, and an eleventh century church which had a service every Thursday.

After three week of detoxing from internet, wine, and friends I was anxious to return home only to find all trains canceled with the rail strike. Real life nightmare and city stress retuned as I eventually did to Montmartre and my love for making images on paper and surfing on the net.

ISA

She danced in a dream last night.

SUMMER AFTERNOON

A TREE I MET

EXHIBITION CAVES DES ABBESSSES

rue des Abbesses 2001

I'm showing some works that I made in the 'hood' at a very groovy wine bar that I love.

Caves des Abbesses, 43 rue des Abbesses. It is unbeatable. A wine store that has a hidden wine bar, charcuterie - good cheese resto in the back room. Come visit.

Only open in the evening. Saturdays an d Sundays - all day.

Here are some abstract notes from my 1995 move to Montmartre

I had tried not to think about what life would be like after my eventual departure from rue Pierre Larousse. I assumed it was not going to be better and hoped it would not be a whole lot worse. Moving into the little apartment on rue Ravingnon, my apprehensions transformed to ecstasy.

It was as if the best artist of them all had lifted me up between His thumb and index finger and placed me exactly where I should be.

Music. Was I in heaven? Ruby and I had just stepped out the door to the sound of an incredibly powerful saxophone player. I didn’t realize I had such a great musician living so close to me, but, this was Montmartre. Arthur Rubinstein had lived up the hill on rue Orkchamp and the French singer Dalidia down the street from him.

The young musician, as I had imagined him, must have opened his windows to the beautiful spring day. All of rue Ravignon was benefiting to the glory of his gift. With Ruby anxiously pulling me along. I was just approaching rue des Abbesses. I ran into Robert, le patron of Chez Camille.

“He’s really good.” Was my first comment.

“Who?” Robert asked.

“Le saxophonist.”

“Oui, je l’aime beaucoups. Le Duke."

Luckily, I saw the loud speakers attached to a wire that had been stretched across rue des Abbesses.

“What’s that?” I asked him pointing.

“Celebration Village Lepic /Abbesses."

"You’ll get tired of it. It goes on three days and nights."

he murmured with his typical French enthusiasm."

SPRING HAS SPRUNG

Well, "dank it" the Good Lord said to Paris in springtime. The 21st. There are promising buds and longer days and hope that global warming might find us. This winter was colder than I have ever known in this city of light and lots of snow. Today is grey.

One would think that with all the great sculpture here, they'd know how to make a snowman.

Not a clue. Not fun.

Inevitably, les printemps will come. The beauty. The splendor. Sitting at a sidewalk café. And boys and girls watching each other.

AUNTIE ROSE

"Auntie Rose" took part in my recent exhibition that I had on the rue des Trois Frères. The water color reminded me of an old-maid-aunt, who wore gloves,and a hat with a veil. She visited us with her companion Margaritte, the first Sunday of every month. We sat on the veranda, drank iced tea, and behaved.

There were some inquiries at the vernissage if I had made a self portrait.

VALENTINE'S DAY

I'M SHOWING !

I'm so happy that Jean-Michael Faudmere, the director of La Galèrie 3F, on the rue des Trois Frères invited me to show some recent works at his very lovely Gallery, not far from the famous Bâteau Lavoir in Montmartre. Despite bad econimic times and Paris winter, I am optimistic that my happy paintings will encourage spring to arrive here soon.

Mark your calender.

L'EXPOSITION MARY BLAKE

Le Galerie 3F

58, rue des Trois Frères

Paris 18 eme

from the 10th 'til the 21st of February

vernissage, Wednesday, the 10th from 6 o'clock 'til 9.

M°Abbesses

The Gallery will be open everyday from 2:30 until 7:30.

Closed on Mondays

For more information

mblakeart@gmail.com

BEST WISHES

Hope you are all well and that 2010 will be the year of years.

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oooooo

Mary