GO WITH THE FLO

I finished my painting of the Café Progrès this morning with a shocking  florescent  hot pink.   I wanted to save the flo - the frosting on the cake- for the end. Even though day-glow goes back to 'my day', dipping into it was a new bridge to cross, one step before tongue piercing, and breast tattooing.

While the work was in progress, many passer-byes were curious why I hadn't included the name of this famous Montmartre hang-out. "Wait and see." I told them-embarrassed to use flouresent paint until it got dark.

  After lunch, I went down to rue Lepic to work on a painting  I had started earlier in the week.

It was a peaceful afternoon with mostly neighborhood people stopping and smiling. I saw my friend Henri, who always irks my concentration with local gossip chat. 

I said "Sorry, Henri, I'm working."

 Then, I heard from behind, "Mary , I like it."

It was Troy, a fellow artist, now very successful, whose work I deeply admire. He's one of the few artists I know that steps outside  his own ego.  Although we only cross paths, quickly and hap-hazardly, he's  always had words that either  encourage or console me.

I confessed to him that I had used fluorescent paint to finish the Le Progrès  painting.

Then I added. "You probably use it all the time."

He's avant garde. 

He said "Yeah, but your colors are always kind of flo anyway."

"Really? "

"Yeah." They radiate by themselves."

So, in fact, it was just another day.