View from the top of Château de la Roche Guyon donjon. ©2009 Deidre Adams.

One of our day trips while staying with ArtStudy was to La Roche Guyon, a short ride from Giverny. It’s a charming village whose main feature is a castle, the Château, which was built in stages over many years.

In visiting the Château itself, you enter through the courtyard and find yourself in the newer part of the complex, an addition built in the 18th Century. This building includes a succession of staterooms, one of which features 4 very large and beautiful tapestries representing the biblical story of Esther. There is also a room housing a collection of curiosities, with taxidermied animals, shells, rocks, and other artifacts of nature. Beneath the castle are a series of subterranean passages, including the “casemates” dug in 1944 by the German army for field marshall Rommel and his staff.

You can go up to the top of the old 9th-Century donjon (castle keep), if you are a hardy soul who can forge on past the dire warning signs and make the climb up 250 very steep steps carved into the rock of the cliff itself. Those who do so are rewarded with magnificent views of the village with the Seine beyond.

I also spent some time walking through the village, with its lovely shops and residences. At one end of the village, you can find a walking path that runs next to a beautiful field (maybe it’s wheat? I’m sorry I’m not really up on the grains). The skies in the morning were beautiful with patchy clouds, before the rain moved in for good later that afternoon.

After a couple of days in Paris, we took a train to Vernon, whose French pronunciation was often ignored by members of our group, probably giving rise to varying reactions of amusement or perhaps consternation by the local residents. From there, it was a short ride in the van to Giverny, the home of our ArtStudy lodge. Giverny is a lovely small town in Normandy, full of picture-postcard scenery. In the image above is Chris, a local artist who is a good friend of the ArtStudy hosts, in front of one of his sand sculptures.

A few more images from Giverny (click any image for larger-format viewer):

While in Giverny, we were pampered each day with fabulous food both at the lodge and at the local restaurants. The lodge has a chef who came and prepared some special-occasion meals on non-restaurant days. For breakfast, we had fresh bread or croissants every day, along with a choice of fruit, Müesli, hard-boiled egg (not for me, thank you very much!), yogurt, and assorted juices. The coffee, accompanied by fresh half-and-half prepared from local milk and cream, was wonderful. Since Normandy is famous for dairy foods, we also had some great cheese selections. The thing that most stood out to me was how fresh everything was. Since I’ve been home, I’ve made a point of going to the farmer’s market every weekend to try to keep getting fruits and vegetables that are as fresh as possible.

On days when we didn’t have field trips, the day was spent painting en plein air. We had European style shopping carts that we loaded up with all of our supplies, including a TV tray for a table, and headed out to find a spot to paint. (I’ll post some of my paintings from the trip soon.) Then each day at 6:00, we journeyed down to Monet’s Garden with our supplies. The gardens were closed at that time, so the only people there were us and a few others, artists or photographers, who also had special permission to be there for two hours taking advantage of the beautiful landscaping and flowers. Here are a few of the photos I took in the gardens.

Monday was museum day. If art museums are your thing, there’s no better place than Paris. By this time, all of the group from school (Metro) had arrived, and we went together to several of the museums. We didn’t go to the Louvre as a group, since it’s just too overwhelming to do in a short amount of time, but some went on their own. I chose not to, because I simply am not into the crowd thing. Maybe some day I’ll get to go again at a time of year when there aren’t so many tourists in town.

Our first stop was the Musée de l’Orangerie, an institution built for the express purpose of housing eight of Monet’s 2×6-meter paintings of waterlilies, known as Nymphéas. We had special arrangements to go at a time when only a couple of small groups were allowed in and were able to avoid the masses of people who come in during the regular hours.

The Monet paintings are installed on curved walls in two oval-shaped rooms lit only by softly diffused natural light coming from overhead skylights covered by fabric filters. Standing in front of these enormous paintings at close range, I began to lose sight of them as paintings. The texture of the brush strokes becomes quite abstracted and is lovely in its own right.

Can you imagine having a studio space large enough to paint something like this and be able to get far enough back from it to see the overall effect?

The Orangerie also has an impressive collection of paintings by Cezanne, Picasso, Renoir, Modigliani, Utrillo, Derain, Soutine, and others. But by far my favorite in the Museum that day was a temporary exhibition of work by contemporary artist Didier Paquignon called Tu rencontreras d’abord les sirènes. I had never heard of Paquignon before, and I couldn’t find much about him online, but more of his work can be seen here. (Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find my notes with the titles of these works, below.)

Two paintings by Didier Paquignon, photographed at Musée de l’Orangerie, July 2009

It seems there is no subject Paquignon can’t render with lively expression and sensitive soulfulness, whether it’s an octopus, an urban landscape, a portrait, or a strangely familiar yet ambiguous interior. His handling of color and light give the work an ethereal glow that apparently can’t be reproduced in print. I was excited to find the exhibition catalog in the museum shop, but then disappointed because the paintings appeared flat and lifeless in the book.

Other activities that day included lunch at Le Souffle restaurant, a trip to the Musée National Picasso, more walking, a little shopping, and still more walking.

Harry Potter et le Prince de Sang-Mêlé is a big deal here.

A few of my very favorite things: concrete and rust and peeling stuff.

(I’d like to hold a caption-writing contest for this one.)

The last tour for the day was the Centre Pompidou, a vast, multi-storied institution with multiple exhibition halls, research facilities, performance halls, a restaurant, an amazing bookstore, and so on and so forth. My only regret was that we had just a couple of hours here. I probably could have spent 2 or 3 days, quite happily. In addition to an amazing permanent collection of modern and contemporary art, the Pompidou was hosting major retrospective exhibitions of work by both Kandinsky and Calder. I didn’t have time to get through both of them, so, since Kandinsky has always been one of my favorite artists, that was the one I chose. One of the interesting things about the exhibit was that, in addition to the paintings, they included a selection of pages from Kandinsky’s notebooks. I always love seeing a glimpse into another artist’s thought process, but when it’s Kandinsky, well, that’s beyond cool.

The Pompidou structure is also quite interesting. I didn’t get a good shot of it, but you can see one here. You can decide for yourself whether you think it’s awesome or hideous, but regardless, the views from the top are spectacular.

Staircase, St. Sulpice, Paris. ©2009 Deidre Adams.

After reading about this in Rick Steve’s Paris, one of the things I most wanted to do was go to hear the organ at St. Sulpice Church. Never mind the fact that the church is a big tourist attraction, especially after it was featured in the DaVinci Code, (look at that — you can get it for a penny now!) I just wanted to hear the organ. When I was growing up, my dad had a lot of records of Bach and other organ music, so I guess it’s a nostalgia thing for me.

Anyway, the Sunday Mass is followed by an organ recital. Update: Here’s a video I took of the interior of the church during the recital. I apologize for the amateur videography; I was testing the video capabilities of my new camera and have a lot to learn about doing video. The quality of the original is quite good; I had to downsize it to make it playable on the web.

When the recital is over, you can go upstairs and see the keyboards and meet the titulaire du Grand-Orgue, currently Daniel Roth. You have to jockey for position with all the other adoring fans pressing in to get a better look:

For all his stature and accomplishments, Roth’s demeanor is gracious and humble in speaking to everyone who manages to squeeze into the narrow entryways on either side to speak to him. He greeted me warmly and asked me where I was from. It was cooler than meeting any rock star, in my own humble opinion.

Daniel Roth, titulaire du Grand-Orgue A. Cavaillé-Coll de Saint-Sulpice. ©2009 Deidre Adams.

From the organ loft, you have a great view of the activities below:

On the way back down, I found a lot of intriguing compositions in the spiral stairway.

After St. Sulpice, I went with Laura to see the Palace of Versailles. I must confess I’ve never been terribly interested in the exploits and excesses of kings and queens, so my knowledge of Versailles was pretty sketchy (read: “nonexistent”). A quick scan of the appropriate chapter in Rick Steve’s gave just as much background as I needed. To quote the book, “To some it’s the pinnacle of civilization; to others, the sign of civilization in decay” (468). Long story short, the palace was built by the Sun King, Louis XIV, and remained the seat of power and apex of conspicuous consumption through 2 more Louis successors, until the French Revolution.

A glance at the Wikipedia sidebar with statistics on the Palace gives you a good idea of the magnitude of riches involved:

Even though we arrived fairly late in the day, the place was still a mob scene.

Going through the palace was somewhat tortuous, due to the hordes of people crowding everything so that you couldn’t see much, and sucking all the air out of the place. The only way to get a shot of anything without crowds in it was to shoot over a rope crossing a doorway into a room with no visitors allowed into it.

You are dragged along by the crowds from one room to another; at some points it was virtually impossible to move. I quickly tired of the suffocation and went outside to get some air.

The Palace grounds consist of of acres of formal gardens and more structures, including the Trianon, the king’s “escape from his escape” (Rick’s Steve’s Paris, 482) and The Hamlet, Marie Antoinette’s “fairytale world of simple country pleasures” (483). It’s a good walk to get around to see most of it. No gym needed on this trip!

Notre Dame Gargoyles. ©2009 Deidre Adams.

My flight into Paris was an overnight one, so I arrived there at 6 am on a Saturday. Due to various assaults on the senses that take place on flights now, I hadn’t slept at all, so the day was spent in a strange state of mind. Another woman from the group, Laura, came over on the same flight, and we decided that it would be best to stay awake as long as possible so that we could get adjusted to the time difference. The solution: do a lot of walking and see as much as possible the first day!

Our hotel was only a couple of blocks from Notre Dame de Paris, so we started there. Not surprisingly, it’s quite the tourist attraction, with huge crowds everywhere, so I was not inspired to linger. We continued on to Sainte-Chapelle, a 13th-century chapel built to hold relics from the Passion of the Christ brought to France by Louis IX. According to the official literature, “The Holy Relics had belonged to the emperors of Constantinople since the 4th century. In purchasing them, Louis IX added to the prestige of both France and Paris which, in the eyes of medieval Europe, became a ‘New Jerusalem,’ and hence the second capital of Christianity.” More specific details about the architecture and the magnificent stained-glass windows are available here.

Ste. Chapelle. ©2009 Deidre Adams. (Click each image for larger version.)

Continuing on to the west, towards the Tuileries Gardens, we found many more interesting sights.

Once we made it to the Tuileries, I was evidently so overwrought by the numerous young women asking us, “Do you speak English?” that I neglected my picture-taking duties, with the exception of this loner pigeon who didn’t seem to like hanging out with his compatriots:

We made it as far as the Arc de Triomphe, which seemed a fitting place to stop our journey for the day.

You can get to the top by climbing up 234 steps:

From the top viewing platform, you have fantastic views of the city in all directions.

Have I mentioned how much I love Kansas City? I thoroughly enjoyed my time here, for many reasons. I loved buying something in a store and being told “thank you very much, and have a nice day!” This is something you don’t hear too much in Denver, where people often act like they are doing you a huge favor by ringing up your purchase. Although I’m used to it now, the lack of friendliness was shocking to me when I first moved to Denver from Albuquerque, where people are much nicer. It’s the same in K.C., where I struck up conversations with total strangers on a regular basis. (And anyone who knows me very well knows that’s highly unusual for me.)

I also loved the city itself, which has a wonderful mixture of eclectic architecture, with the old happily existing alongside the new. I’m still going through all the pictures I took — that will be a long process. But before too much time went by, I wanted to post some pictures from my very favorite find: a little section of town full of marvelous old warehouses, some still in use, and some waiting for new tenants, but none seeming in imminent danger of demise. I first saw the cluster of tall old warehouses from the freeway when I was on my way in for the conference, and I knew I had to come back and take a closer look.

My first foray into the area was on Sunday evening, and the logistics were more complicated than I had imagined, due to one of the main routes into the area having been closed off for reconstruction. At that time of day, the place was more or less deserted, and it had an eerie feel. I got sort of lost in a maze and was feeling rather apprehensive since I wasn’t familiar with the area. It seemed like a movie set, with all these amazing old buildings and no one around. I took just a few pictures and then decided I’d better find my way out before it got dark.

The next day, I was leaving to go back home, but on my way out of town I decided I wanted to go see the buildings again in different light. Since it was now Monday morning, the place had a totally different feel with people bustling about their business, some visible through open garage-type doors working inside at various industry, some doing touch-up work on the buildings, and some even out walking dogs.

The area boasts a fun-looking local restaurant:

And the residents evidently have a good sense of humor:

What’s not to love?

I had fleeting thoughts of how it might be fun to have an entire floor in one of these buildings for an artist’s studio, up high with views of the city visible from the windows. Look, now here’s one for sale:

I do really love my current studio, and the convenience of having it in my house cannot be denied. But wouldn’t it be great to have some room to stretch out in? It’s fun to dream, and it doesn’t cost anything.

Sorry if this post is a bit over the top on pictures, but just before I went on the trip, I treated myself to a new camera kit. I now have a cool 24-105 zoom lens. With my old camera/lens situation, I was limited to a 35mm focal length on the wide end, so having the 24mm is new and fun. I’ve been entertaining myself with all the wonky angles I can get on things now.

From subsequent research, I learned that this is apparently the former Great West Mill and Elevator, built in 1919 and “instrumental in Amarillo’s growth as a regional industrial center,” according to the Handbook of Texas Online. It changed hands a couple of times and as far as I can tell, the abandoned mill is currently under the ownership of the DeBruce Companies. I wish I had taken a shot of it from the perspective shown in this Amarillo Public Library archive photo, but as we only stumbled upon it by accident, by glimpsing it from afar, I can only think about that as hindsight.

Now, it’s pretty obvious to anyone, myself included, that this falls into the category of stuff that you’re not supposed to go poking around. The immediate environment had a somewhat apocalyptic feel, but the surroundings were quite active, with well-used railroad tracks immediately behind the buildings and a busy salvage yard just beyond them, from which frequent but unintellible announcements and loud beeps continuously emanated from a loudspeaker system. This only heightened the air of tension, as at any moment I expected someone to come out and tell me to get the hell out of there (a not-infrequent occurrence in these kinds of explorations). But the lure of such a thing is irresistible to me, and in the absence of any obvious “NO TRESPASSING” signs, it seemed that a closer but very brief look around was warranted.

I wasn’t able to easily determine when this place was last used as a mill, but there was one area where thick piles of flour (?) were still very much in evidence on the ground. I thought maybe they should have been turned into a solid mass by rain and sun by now, but evidently not. The drifts were quite loose as though just freshly sifted from above.

Lots of tagging all around increased the feeling that someone, whether authorized or not, was lurking nearby and would most definitely not appreciate any company. Hey … what do you think happened to the owner of this headgear?

We started from one side of this building, circled around the back by the railroad tracks, and came back around to the front. When we got there, we were confronted by this:

A wide-open door beckoning us hither? No way! There could be any number of unspeakable presences on the other side of that doorway. No sir, not for me! But my semi-intrepid travel companion, my husband, has a far greater sense of adventure and a far less developed fear of the unknown than I do. So he pokes his head inside, looks around, and pronounces the premises to be free of bogeymen. “Come on,” he says, “We’ve come this far. Can’t turn back now!” So, protesting meekly and with heart pounding a mile a minute, I edge closer to the doorway, until I can stick my head in and flash a gander at the wonders that await within. “OK, I say, I’ll just jump in for a second and pop off a few quick ones.”

By now I am pretty much petrified with fear, so I say, “All right, that’s good now, besides, it’s dark in here and I don’t have a tripod, so I can’t get any good shots, so OK, let’s go.” But Intrepid says, “Well, the tripod’s out there in the car, let me go get it.” I try to talk him out of it, but curiosity has gotten way ahead of us, so there it is. I weigh the consideration of which is worse: possibly attracting more attention with both us trotting back to the car, or staying in that place all by myself. Uh…yeah. Out we go the several hundred yards back to the car to get the tripod, then back to the door and inside once again. This time we delve beyond the first big room and go through the doorway you see in the right third of the above photo. OK, for sure we are going to be killed now, no doubt about it. There’s even a warning in here confirming my suspicions:

But in for a penny, in for a pound. I go to put the camera on the tripod, and now I come to the very sad realization that I had earlier removed the mounting plate and put it back in the camera bag — which, naturally, is outside in the car — because I thought I was going to be outside all day. This time the annoyance of going back trumps my fear, and I stay inside by myself while the desired object is retrieved. When my husband gets back with the plate, he tells me there are a couple of workmen outside who appear to be aware of our presence and have gone into a nearby mobile office structure to call the authorities. I’m not sure how he could have known this specifically, but the urgency has now become very pressing and I have to hurry even though I’m in sheer photographic heaven. Time for just a very few shots because they are a bit long in exposure and composing with the tripod takes me forever.

Things got very curious in some places. I would love to know how all these hoses came to be lying on the floor in here.

But that’s about when we couldn’t stand it any more and knew we had to get out of there while the getting was good. We peeped outside, found the coast to be clear, and walked back to the car, our measured pace belying the sense of dread I felt as I expected to hear a shout or feel a hand on my shoulder at any moment. But we made our escape successfully — no flashing sirens appeared in the rearview mirror, so apparently all is well, at least so far.

I already wish I could go back there and spend a lot more time. I want to know what’s in there on the upper floors!

As a vacation destination, Amarillo, Texas can certainly hold its own. There are several attractions in the area which demanded our attention, the Big Texas Steak Ranch providing only the smallest glimpse of what was to come. The parking lot was very full when I was there taking pictures near sundown on Wednesday night, so there must have been a lot of people in that place trying to earn their free 72-oz steak by eating it within an hour — something probably very interesting to observe. However, since I don’t eat steak, we have to move on find to less burly but more suitable refreshments at a local Thai restaurant. Then the next morning it was on to more exploration.

If you love roadside attractions as much as I do, then you are in luck because there is a most informative web site catering to this addiction: Roadside America. This is how I learned that there is another great Texan in the area, somewhat south of Amarillo in the town of Canyon. He is  the Big Texan, aka Tex Randall, erected in 1959, but in past years under siege and even now in danger of imminent demise. I had to make sure I got to see him before he meets his inevitable end. Unfortunately, he’s not doing so well these days. Hang in there, Tex! You’ve lasted this long, I hope you’ll stick it out for another 50 years.

Heading back towards Amarillo from Canyon, one can also see this amazing sight, the so-called Huge Pair of Legs, standing out in the middle of a field of cows (many thanks to the model for providing the much-needed sense of scale):

Evidently, the legs are also the work of Stanley Marsh 3, the creator of Cadillac Ranch. Read the whole sordid story at the link above, if so inclined. Now, having heard of the legendary Cadillac Ranch so many times, I was living in a state of heightened anticipation until I finally got to see it. But as with so many things in life, the things you obsess over the most often turn out to be disappointments.

Cadillac Ranch has turned into a giant graffiti site, where the main attraction is the chance to go crazy with a spray can without fear of reprisal, with the blessing of the owner of the establishment.

Now, I’ll be the first to say that I love graffiti when it’s done well, but this is a community free-for-all with no organization, and so it’s pretty much just a big mishmash of colors and there’s no real art to it.

Everyone is just busy spraying everything in sight, and even the hardpacked dirt road and the unfortunate nearby cow leavings are subject to the frenzy.

The empty cans are all left behind to be blown by the blasting wind into the adjacent empty field.

Oh well, then, let’s go back to Amarillo momentarily. Are there words to express how much I love this place? Observe just a small sampling of the the delights to be found here:

As great as these things are, there is another surprise of unsurpassed super yummy goodness, but I fear this is getting way too long, so I shall save it for tomorrow.

Big Texas Steak Ranch, Amarillo, Texas

This is Spring break, and I am off from school for an entire lovely week. We were long overdue for a road trip, so it seemed like a good excuse to just get in the car and go. I had not set foot inside the great state of Texas for a long time, so we decided to do some exploring in the panhandle area and then start making our way back west in New Mexico.

The first day of travel was filled with our usual gotta-do-six-million-things-before-we-can-leave futzing around, so we didn’t get out of the house until around 3:00 pm. That gave us enough time to reach the bustling metropolis of Raton, NM. We spent our first night at the Colt Motel.

There was a large selection of cute little retro motels to choose from, so the selection was difficult. I finally settled on the Colt because of its mascot (I can always be depended upon to fall for a life-size fiberglass animal, especially when it’s a happy little horse).

The next morning, after breakfast and some brief photo opportunities in town, we headed east on Highway 72 towards the town of Folsom. We soon found ourselves in a strange and lonely landscape, with no trees and very few other people, with just the occasional herd of cows as the only other company.

Finally, we reached Folsom. The town has very few residents left. There were a few occupied homes, several abandonded of same, an abandoned school and historic hotel, and the very happening downtown area.

Further on, we had to make a decision about where to stop for the night once again. We saw this place, but passed it up in favor of the Holiday Inn Express in Amarillo — our big splurge of the trip.

Tomorrow: Cadillac Ranch!

Deno’s 6&85  ©2009 Deidre Adams.

It seems that the beginning of a new year is a time for most people to want to take stock of their lives and to resolve to change themselves in some way. I decided a long time ago that making resolutions was a sure setup for failure. So, although there is a tiny nagging sense of guilt that I should be working to improve myself in some way, I pass on the whole resolution thing and just allow myself to enjoy the day. Is that because I’m weakwilled? Perhaps, but I much prefer to live in the moment than to spend the day in deep introspection, self-absorption and recriminations, thinking about how I should change myself.

So, yesterday when I saw that it was a beautiful warm day with striking clouds — my optimal picture-taking scenario — I decided it was time to take advantage of a quiet traffic day and go up north to Commerce City to get some shots of Deno’s 6&85 restaurant, with this fabulous old sign. I’m not sure why, but it evidently has some claim to fame, as it’s the poster child for the “truck stop” entry on Wikipedia. I’d heard that they had closed, so I thought I’d better get up there before it got torn down. I was quite surprised to find that it’s now plastered with ugly banners announcing that they’re now open under new management. Kind of ruined the atmosphere I was hoping for, but whaddaya gonna do!

Here’s a closeup of the sign in which you can see a couple of the current residents. These birds were quite happy and noisy yesterday, giving the whole scene an oddly surreal spring-like feeling, there on the first day of January, 2009.

We spent some time driving around Commerce City, a great urban exploration area, for other photo opportunities. Late in the afternoon, the sun came poking through a cloudbank and produced this great scene in the concrete labyrinth that lives underneath I-70:

Underpass. ©2009 Deidre Adams.

Disclaimer: All of these images are tweaked in Adobe Lightroom, to which I am now heavily addicted.

But to get back to the New Year’s theme, I got a bonus in my e-mail today in the form of permission for my lazy behavior. This comes from Robert Genn’s Twice Weekly Newsletter, which I subscribed to a while ago. Although most of what he offers is a rehash of the same-old stuff that you’ve heard a gazillion times if you’ve been around awhile, every now and then there is a gem worth contemplating. Today’s offering is called How to Find Passion. I read through the typical life turnaround story barely paying attention, but there were a couple of steps in his how-to list that made me stop in my tracks:

Consider your dreams to be private, unique and sacred….
Don’t talk about it, do it.

OK, great. Gotta stop talking about it, and go do it. Until next time, then!