Prix Canson 2013

I just returned from a wonderful trip to Paris as one of 39 nominees for the international competition, Le Prix Canson. The Prix is sponsored by Canson, a leading paper company since 1557, to promote emerging artists working with paper.

I was honored to be nominated as the artist for Canson USA, and thrilled to be able to be in Paris for the awards ceremony and exhibition at the Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris. A big thank you to Robert Toth and Giulia Giovanelli and everyone at Canson for the nomination and all of the arrangements.

Chris and I arriving for the reception at the Petit Palais. Photo by Mom (not pictured).

My drawing, above, from my reportage of a zelij tile workshop in Fes, Morocco, was part of the exhibit.

 

Although I didn't win the prize, the winner was Zimbabwean artist Virginia Chihota, it was wonderful to be able to enjoy the beautiful reception in the courtyard at night, and see my work on the wall in the museum. The Petit Palais is one of the most beautiful buildings I've seen in Paris. Designed for the 1900 Universal Exposition in Paris, it is in the Art Nouveau style with (somewhat) toned-down and elegant decoration compared to a lot of Parisian grandeur.

In the days around the event, Chris and I took some time to relax and draw in the Tuileries Gardens, near the Louvre.

We sipped fresh-squeezed orange juice and café crème while watching the Parisians and tourists lounge languidly under the dappled shade of the square-cropped chestnut trees. Ahh Paris!

The girl at the table next to us puffed lazily on her cigarette, scrawled dramatically into her notebook, and personified perhaps dozens of French artist stereotypes at once. My hunch is that she was an American college student studying abroad.

It was a wonderful experience, and so magical to be in Paris in June. Every single iris was in bloom! Stay tuned for more drawings from the rest of my trip!

Spring in Mystic Seaport

Two weekends ago, I was able to return to Mystic Seaport with Dalvero Academy to take advantage of the spring weather. It was so nice to wander around the seaport and simply enjoy the beauty of it.

 

The river rippled under the groaning weight of the tall-ships, and parted as candy-colored sailboats slipped through the waves. Men and women bellowed work songs as they climbed into the rigging and hoisted the sails.

Boats tied to the piers creaked and swayed against the dock.

 

The work on the last wooden whaleship in the world, The Charles W. Morgan, nears completion as workers hammered and slathered the outside hull with paint before returning her to the water in July.

The salty air fluttered through the branches, tinkling the newly sprouted leaves like wind chimes, and washing away the winter chill.

Feeling

Often the hardest thing for me to do is stop thinking.

Spring!

It's spring!

Yay!

Indoor Drawing

Seeing as Spring still hasn't come to New York, I've been getting my drawing fix indoors at Grand Central and Rockefeller Center these past couple weeks.

Both spots are always good for people watching.

 

You can always see interesting people and dynamics if you just sit and watch.

Whether it's people together...

 

...by themselves....

  ...or moving in a crowd,

 

there is always something new to see.

Morocco: Return to Fes

After the Sahara, we returned to Fes for a couple days and then headed back to New York. Morocco is an amazing place, but not always an easy one. It's exhausting and magical at the same time.

There aren't a lot of places in the world where you can make a drawing like the one above: There is a man riding side-saddle on a mule, who is stepping daintily over the cobblestones of a precariously narrow medieval street perched on a steep hillside, while a man in the distance twirls silk into thread down the long winding streets, as the sun begins to set, turning the whole street to gold.

I certainly can't wait to go back.

Morocco: The Desert

 

Our final excursion out of Fes was to the Sahara near the border with Algeria. From Fes, it was a 9 hour drive to the dunes through some of the most amazing landscapes I've ever seen. We passed through Mediterranean rolling hills, an Atlas cedar forest, a French ski village, a whirling dust storm, one of the world's largest oases, and a high desert plateau surrounded by soaring peaks that were about to receive their first snow of the year.

We arrived at our hotel after a long drive across a desolate black plateau in the middle of a sand storm. We could barely see 5 feet on either side of the car, and even then it was only parched black earth. Our hosts came out to help us scramble inside as the blowing sand proceeded to wedge itself into every mouth, eye, ear, and otherwise.

 

 

After a tasty meal, our hosts treated us to some Berber drumming and we turned in for the night as the sandstorm blew on.

We awoke to a serene breeze through the window, and the wall of blowing black sand outside had settled to reveal endless golden dunes only 20 feet away. We ate a quick breakfast and went out to start our journey.

 

We met our two camels, one brown was brown and wooly and the other beige with a nose ring. Of course we named them after our brown and beige cats at home, Bert and Pica (We eagerly asked the camel drivers if they already had names, he answered "No. They are camels.").

The back view of Chris on the camel in front of me.

 After a long, beautiful camel ride through the martian landscape (through which the blustering wind and camel jostling made drawing close to impossible), we settled into our Berber campsite for the night, hoping to see the amazing starry skies you can only see when you're miles from civilization.

Pica the camel.

Naturally, as the sun was going down, the storm clouds were rolling in. As we were lying in our tent, trying to sleep through the booming thunder, we began to feel the pitter-patter of rain drops on our faces. The carpet/bamboo roof of our tent was not exactly waterproof, and as the frequency of the drops began to increase, we scrambled our things together and ran into the main tent where we huddled with a nice Australian family under the more substantial roof. We were treated to a torrential downpour in the middle of the Sahara desert as the deluge of water poured into the tent on all sides of our little mattresses in the center.

We didn't end up seeing any stars at all, but I feel like a rainstorm in the Sahara is just as unique of an experience, and we can see the stars the next time. Plus the sunrise the next morning made all the rain worth it, as the dunes that had been faded and shifting yesterday became crisp, solid, and vibrant after the rain.