For the past couple of days I have been working on the view of Vidauban from our terrace. It is a wonderful view, with the church cradled in the middle of the village which is surrounded by hills. In the background are distant mountains, their colours ranging from green blue to blue to violet depending on the light. I am looking forward to painting this scene many times at different times of day and in different seasons.
This particular painting is of Vidauban mid-morning. The sun has warmed up the buildings and is catching the tree tops on the hillsides. The predominant colours are cream, terracotta, blue and greens. Unusually for me I painted the canvas with an undercoat of terracotta to cover up an earlier composition. (I had run out of canvases – this was the only one available.) However, I think the undercoat works well in contrasting with the greens. I struggled a bit to begin with in the placing of the colours and I felt rather down but I think they are beginning to come together now. If a painting doesn’t seem to be working I do get very depressed about it and doubt my ability even more than usual. However, I am reminded of Van Gogh’s words:
“If you hear a voice within you say ‘I cannot paint’, then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”
I love walking round our hillside, well, its not really “our” hillside, just the one behind where we live. I’ve mentioned it before, the cone of a former volcano with a chapel right at the top which can be seen for miles around, including from the A9 autoroute a few kilometres distant. In past years when we used to come on holiday here I would point to the chapel excitedly, marvelling at its situation on the one hand (who would ever climb up there?) and on the other by the sheer beauty of the scene, with the warm peachy yellow building of the church surrounded by a forest of green trees standing out against a perfect blue sky. From the path that winds round the hillside the view is of farmland, of fields of wheat and vines with an isolated farmhouse or two.
Today I was reminded of some of Cézanne’s paintings of the countryside near Aix-en-Provence, 80 kilometres from here. John Rewald writes in “Cézanne a biography” (1986)
“What was most precious was the solitude which was indispensable to him, and which was filled with memories linked to the rhythm of the seasons, the bare branches, forming complicated designs across the sky swept by the wind of winter, the trees cloaked in a tender green veil in the springtime, the stillness of the vibrant heat accentuated by the incessant stridulations of the cicadas in summer, the bunches of violet grapes on a background of rustling dead leaves in autumn.”
At the moment I am short of canvases, but like Cézanne, I feel the countryside here offers everything, is an endless source of inspiration.
One of my favourite place to visit in the Var department of Provence is the beautiful little hilltop village of Bormes les Mimosas. The steep old streets, many with steps, are lined with pastel coloured houses in shades of pink, cream and terracotta, overflowing with tubs and baskets of flowers. The main street , pedestrianised, is full of enticing little shops selling jewellery, clothes, bags, antique style items for the home, precious stones and an assortment of local crafts. The main road which skirts the village, never overly busy unlike on the coast only a few kilometres distant, is bordered by magnificent tall palm trees and pavement cafes, from which there is a wonderful view of the Mediterranean.
I think what makes Bormes special for me is the combination of colours, from the orange and cream of the buildings to the dark green of the palms and cypresses, from the bright sparkling blue of the Mediterranean to the duskier blue greens of olives. vines, and chestnut trees on the surrounding hillsides.