Je me souviens

                                                       

"Je me souviens"  Graphite on Paper    by Linda Hampton Smith      

                                  

La Mémoire.

 Waves of nostalgie wash over me.  All the time.  And they're not rosy, dreamy vignettes.  They're vivid and compelling and immediate.  As if they've just happened and are happening still.  Time drops away.  Maybe it's because I'm a visual thinker.  My memoires are like pictures that hang on the walls of my mind.   Like one of the grands salons in the Louvre where the paintings hang floor to ceiling. 

And what hangs on the walls of this salon?  A gazillion things.  I share a few.......

                                                                              

Un panier de chanterelles.  Just last night we dined on chanterelles (sauteed in a port wine sauce and poured over baked chicken breasts flavored by orange slices.  YUM. )   Earlier in the day, my son Will (a 20 year old amateur chef extraordinaire)  and I picked them together on a nearby forest trail.   I savor, avec de la gratitude, this sweet gift.

                  

                                                                              

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Years ago in Paris, I spied this dalmation waiting for its owner.  I loved and love this moment. Not only for the pleasing palette of colors but for its portrayal of a quiet and resigned longing.  

   

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Opening a door, one day,  in Vieux Montréal,  I was greeted by an apple red surprise.  For some reason, this  insistent advertisement makes me really happy!   "Entrez,"  I say!

                                                                             

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Images of my mother.  I treasure them not only for her beauty but for the fact that she has always encouraged my love of art.  As a young woman, she read an article about the benefits of exposing your baby "in utero" to great music and art.  So, while pregnant with me, she walked the hallways of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, lingering in the French Impressionist wing.  Years later, when I studied art in college,  she hung my paintings all around the house.  It struck me then, seeing my framed pictures so lovingly displayed, that I must, in fact, be a " true artiste!"   Surely, it's no coincidence that I'm drawn to French art, as well.

          

                                                                                                                                                              

                                             Grâce à vous, maman.       

                                                           Merci

What wonders we carry within us.  

Un veritable tableau vivant.