Once upon a time Paris used to be called ''The City of Love''.
(maybe it still is)
Not being a ''romantic'' person I can't say that I associate
Paris with romance, but I do associate it with great Art.
The first time I visited Paris I was very young and what
impressed me the most was how gooood it smelt.
It seemed as if no matter where one were one was always
accompanied by the most enticing scents of freshly baked bread,
newly sliced cheeses, jambon(ham) and salamis.
But I guess most of all.....freshly brewed coffee(café).
The second time I visited Paris I was 18 years old and
busy trying to ''find myself'' before the serious business of
becoming a professional musician was going to begin.
Once again I was seduced by all the wonderful scents
wafting down the cobbled streets and alleys, but this time,
I was on a mission to absorb as much French Art* as I
could muster. (* especially from the Impressionistic and
Expressionistic periods)
This included trying to find some of the many Jazz clubs
that during the 1950's and -60's were the focal points
for many Jazz musicians from all over the globe.
I have a vague memory of seeing/hearing Barney Kessel
(American jazz guitarist) play there in some club but
unfortunately, I can't remember any details.
So, romance.
Although my boyfriend and I had broken up, when I told
him that I was going to spend two months zig-zagging across
Europe by train he insisted that he should come along.
Well, it was summer, he was still a good friend, so I said okay.
I had no intention of any kind of rekindling our relationship
but as time passed, I discovered that he did.
Ah, Paris, you city of love.
While my heart and mind was firmly focused on art,
his was focused on the art of seduction.
I stood firm in Vienna, I resisted in Dubrovnik,
I was strong in London, but then........there was Paris.
I don't know what Paris is like these days, but then,
it was beautiful.
It was warm, it was sunny, it was old, it was a
''living, breathing, enticing'' place full of interesting
people, food, art and architecture.
Walking the streets of Paris was like stepping back
in time and feeling as if just around the next corner
one could bump into Monet, Degas or anyone else of
the Impressionist painters.
The City of Love got to me and then
one magical evening, I gave in to a bit of romance.
In the morning however, Venice kept calling me
so off we went and so did my feelings of romance.
When our train pulled in to the Central Station in Stockholm
a week or so later, my mind was firmly fixed on
the business of starting the next chapter of my life.
I felt that I had ''found myself'' and though I had
enjoyed my ex boyfriend's company,
my new chapter did not include him.
My ''romance'' with music which began when
I was just a toddler was alive and well
and I, was eager to give it my all.
about the paintings:
Top: acrylic on canvas
The man in the painting is actually in Paris.
You just can't see the Eiffel Tower.
The postcard: the stamp is a graphite on paper
then edited in Elements.
After the WW II ended it took quite some time before
Paris was restored. But here's the thing;
through the whole war the Eiffel Tower stood tall.
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