Home to Dali

Travelling via Cannes and the artisan village of Biot, the afternoon brought me back to my most inspirational place in the world.

Cadaques was the home of Salvador Dali for many years - actually Port Lligat to be precise, which is a five minute walk from the village over the hill. A haunt of artists for many years because of its remoteness and inaccessibility, Cadaques still holds a certain aura and fascination for all who visit.

I could quite happily have stayed forever among the whitewashed houses countered with the view of surrounding hills, blue water and brightly coloured fishing smacks. Mentally I always take a lot of shapes and colours back with me to feed my next collection of paintings.

While there I again made contact with a gallery for a potential exhibition. For me it would be the ultimate location to make a pilgrimage with my works - to the home of the master. Lets see what the future holds for next year or so.

The last evening was spent on the hotel balcony looking down over the boats bobbing in the bay sipping Cava and listening to the cadent water whispering ’dali, dali, dali’ by the shore in homage to the artist.

The Nice life

Travelling down and across to the south of France via Genova, a short stop in Monaco was called for. While there, a super yacht was berthing with attendant crew dressed in corporate livery. The port bristling with bodyguards and bullet-proof jeeps of the rich and famous. Another world into which I could only glimpse.

Onward to Nice, and more art based experiences. The Negresco hotel along the seafront is a marvel. Everywhere you look there are artworks adorning every space. Older, more classical pieces jarring alongside bright, colourful, in your face artworks from right up to the modern day. A truly eclectic mix and a joy to behold. I only wish I could have afforded to stay there.

I was initially disappointed however, to see that the beach was mostly stones and pebbles, but on the second day I was there I think I understood why the coastline gets the name the Cote D’azur.

Normally, when the waves kick up on a windy day the water on a sandy beach gets muddy and confused, but in Nice the action of the waves breaking onto the pebbly beach aerated the water so much that it turned a mix of aquamarine and vibrant blue.

As night approached a phosphorescence became apparent that reflected the colour along the whole promenade. Young people sitting on the stones their laughter wafting along the shore, mixed with the sound of jazz from the beach bars, helped set an idyllic scene. With more gallery contacts made it was time to move on to my spiritual home…

The Italian Job - Jam in Milan

Under no circumstances try to get round Milan’s ring road system on a Friday afternoon. It took me 2 hours to cover 10 kilometres!

Arriving in the Lago D’Iseo area about 7pm meant a break in driving for a while. After what must be the largest pizza in all of Italy - at least 60cm across - so big in fact there barely a table big enough to accommodate it never mind a plate, I was more than ready for an early night.

The stunning area of Iseo, in my mind, can give Garda and Geneva a run for their money anyday. The hills and mountains run steeply into the dark green/black penetrating lake and create a haven for artists and locals alike. I have been here on occasions before and never tire of sitting by the waters edge looking across at the majestic island dominating the whole area.

While here a number of leads made on previous trips were followed up in regard to galleries and exhibition spaces and hopefully will produce significant results at some point in the near future.

Great weather for ducks!

Having left Paris with a number of new gallery contacts, as well as fresh inspiration, it was time to hit the road once more. After a few hours drive we crossed the border into Switzerland and spent the night in Geneva. Another late arrival meant that hunger and exhaustion overtook curiosity, and exploration was delegated to the following day.

However, awakened by the sight of yet more torrential rain meant that the sightseeing was reduced to that of a crawl through heavy traffic on a steamy lakeside thoroughfare. In the grey lake I could just see the famous water jet spouting in protest as the heavy rain tried to dampen its ardour.

Just beside the main bridge, as I prepared to crawl across, the traffic came to a complete halt. As I watched, a duckling and its protective mother came waddling across the road oblivious to all eyes that watched this amazing rush hour spectacle. An interesting way to remember Switzerland, don’t you agree?

After a return crossing back into France, a respite from the rain was only possible by entering the Mont Blanc tunnel. There were various signs indicating the beautiful views of the mountains all around but, sadly the signs were all I could see with the weather.

Having entered Italy, I stopped and looked back at the much heralded viewpoint of the Mont Blanc Glacier. I think I glimpsed the leading edge of it through the rain and mist but can’t be certain that it wasn’t just an optical illusion brought on by a terrible thirst!

Return to Paris

It’s been approximately seven years since I was in Paris. When here before I visited my art heroes in the Musee D’Orsay and looked up at them in awe and longing. I was still a struggling artist at that time and felt that I could never attain the intensity of colour and form shown in the museum.

Another age of this man is gone, and maybe I can now say that at least I am on the first rung of the ladder - still looking up, but at least now perhaps I can observe the paintings with constructive envy and no longer idolatry.

It was wonderful to visit again with such artists as Van Gogh, Monet, Pisarro, Bonnard, Millet et al, as I much prefer the ‘train station’ to the Louvre in content. The building itself is an inspiration for me and for over four hours I wandered between the decades, countries, movements and psyches of my antecedents.

I cannot wait to get back to Spain to work now I am fired up again with enthusiasm. I think it is important to ‘plug in’ to the art charger every so often to reinvigorate oneself, but also to revaluate the direction you feel you are heading in. I often say there are no wrongs in art, just different points of view. If you are passionate enough, and determined enough to push through the hesitancy sometimes felt, then your efforts must be justified in the long run.

The adventure was continued with a visit to Shakespeare and Co. by the Seine to purchase some reading material for the onward journey. The beds between the books were littered with tomes of modern classics and the tap-tap-tap of an old typewriter helped set the scene for perusal of Hemingway and Joyce. Ironically Jack Kerouac’s On The Road came to hand. I wonder what the relevance is there?

Finally the day was finished off with a beverage consumed in the Hotel Meurice frequented of course by Salvador Dali and Gala for many years. As I sat in the salon area I’m convinced that I saw his spirit slip silently past with an entourage of surrealistic elephants.

They seem to follow me everywhere!

Rooftops of Liege

After a late arrival in Liege, Belgium, sadly there was not much time for any sightseeing before catching a meal. What daylight there was showed a city of crumbling grandeur mixed with new architecture rising from the ground in sympathy with the surrounding buildings.

A street side café on a beautifully characteristic cobbled street transported me to the 1940’s - an era I have long loved for fashion and art. Accordion music whispering through the terraced streets set the scene further as a meal was taken outside on the pavement by candlelight.

Then the heavens opened, and thunder and lightning washed the music away with the extinguished candlelight. A quick retreat made across the Place Du Opera to the hotel seemed to beckon the end of the night.

The view from the hotel room had seemed pleasantly atmospheric looking over the rooftops during check-in as it faced away from the main streets, but we were left breathless when all was lit up at night. The scene of the church rising out from the rooftops immersed in floodlit splendour, coupled with the flashes of lightning and rumbles of protesting thunder proved to be a blessing after all.

Sadly the night-time photographs didn't come out so I have included the daytime shots to give some sort of idea of the view, however muted.

Hamburg exhibition begins

The Artist and Director of the Marziart International Gallery Marion Zimmerman, opened the exhibition to a crowd of well wishers and art lovers alike on a balmy Friday evening with an introduction of each artist represented.

There were actually five artists out of the seven exhibiting who turned up on the night. Nationalities ranged from Belgian, Dutch, French, Danish, Indian, Chilean and of course Irish. Much jollity was had over sips of champagne, and a lot of new contacts and friends were made in the international art world. The interest from the crowd attending was wonderful and I spent a lot of time answering questions about the origins of my work and the influences that shaped them.

My thanks to Marion for her attention to detail and I look forward to perhaps having a return exhibition sometime in the future. The exhibition runs until the 5th of July 2007 in Eppendorfer Weg, Hamburg for any viewers of this blog who happen to be in the area in the next few weeks.