THE HEALER AND THE ARTIST

Every Sunday the streets on my side of Montmartre become piétons– no cars - unless you can prove you’re an invalid.

Larissa Noury , a Belarusian artist,  that I had recently met at her vernissage was due by at 10:30. She was late. It was sunny and I wanted to get back to the painting on my corner. To kill time, I decided to wash the dishes. There was a broken glass in the water. I cut my right index finger. You know, the one you use to double click your mouse. Liesbeth arrived and seemed more concerned with my injury, now wrapped in toilet paper, than my artwork. I suggested that we go across the street to Le Progres for a coffee.

She said, as we sat down, “They’ll have a band-aid here.”She was right.  Restaurant kitchens always have First-Aid boxes. I think it’s the law. The waitress came over.

 “Bon jour Marie”

 “Bon jour. Est-ce-que on peut avoir deux cafés et un  pansement.” (Band-Aid). I held up my finger.

She shouted to the barman, ”Deux cafés et un pansement pour Marie.”

“Un pansement pour Marie.” The barman shouted to the kitchen

“Tout suite” the chef shouted back.

I was impressed. I was expecting Larissa to be also. She looked pleased and composed, but not surprised. I learned that she had a doctorate in architecture.

Then we talked about paint. Oils vs. Acrylics. It was sort of like a PC vs. Mac waste-of-time debate. People change their political party  more frequently than their computer affiliation or their painting medium.

"I ‘m an acrylic person and stand by it. It’s because of my animals." I told her tongue in cheek. "Oils take so long to dry, I always ended up with dog and cat hairs stuck to my canvass.”

She smiled. We went back to my studio for a few minutes and talked about my paintings.

“I’m going to leave you.” she said gently. “I think you are very anxious to paint.” 

We agreed to go to an exhibition together next week.”