It’s a well-known axiom that inaccessibility or distance increases an object’s value. C’est la vie. Just before opening this post to write, I was editing all the photos that had been locked on my phone for weeks, finally successfully downloaded to my computer. Listening to Lara Fabian chant her hit, “Je t’aime”, I couldn’t help but ache to regain some of the Dordogne Days of the past three weeks. Every photo I open oozes happiness, joy and beauty that was my Artistic Adventurers’ daily fare.
Home again, we settle into our familiar routines, lovely in their own right. Traces of travel still litter my studio- paintings to inventory and supplies waiting to be put away. I have hopes of picking up a paintbrush tomorrow and begin to relive my vagabond moments in the privacy of my studio, as I paint more French memories. Suddenly, I think of my grandmother, a brilliant Oberlin-educated suffragette, destined to spend her life raising chickens on my grandfather’s farm. Never going farther than the grocery, she only traveled through books and decades worth of letters from her British pen pal. But it was her retelling stories of the world beyond that filled my imagination with a thirst to see its wonders with my own eyes. I see even more when I paint it.