Today I turned Maecenas and bought one of the oil paintings that decorate the Grands Thermes.
The painting caught my eye every time I passed it. It hung in a little off-side alcove, and was surrounded by more conventional depictions of clowns, boats, and flowers. But this one is rather un-conventional, I think!
At home I have a small painting of a few coloured balloons on a blue background, similar colours to the one in this painting. Again it is a very small painting, with primary colours, rather unsophisticated, arguably. I bought it for £3 in a charity shop a few years ago. It is so cheerful and pleasant that it lifts my spirit every time I see it!
It is a good thing this Fleuri Violon painting is small, I wouldn't fancy dragging it back to Oxford otherwise.
Now it sits on the turned off radiator in my apartment, looking cheery and mysterious. I need a bit of cheerfulness, having had yet another bad bit of news (people do insist on dying on me).
I am not, generally speaking, into art. Whenever I am attracted to a work of art, it tends to be the sort I could conceivably create myself, if I were to put in the hours (I do occasionally paint). I am also not really into classical music, though again I used to compose little melodies in my head when I was young, humming along as I went for long walks.
This surprises my friends and acquaintances, who have me marked as a sophisticated high-brow type who is into Radio 4's Front Row and the Manchester Guardian's arts pages. As a matter of fact, I endure, rather than enjoy, anything to do with High Art. I suspect this is true of most people, except I am more honest in admitting this. I mean, who in their right mind would go to a modern theatre production, or spend a sunny afternoon at Tate Modern, when there is a whole world out there waiting to be discovered in a direct sensory fashion? Surely a real flower is always preferable to the painting of a flower?
I guess it fits in with my basic character trait of being generally more interested in doing things myself rather than watching others doing something, especially when it comes to the arts. I don't watch cookery programmes, nor pornographic films, nor Strictly Come Dancing, either - some things should be done, not observed, I feel.
So I am not quite sure why I have fallen for this particular painting. Perhaps the cheery colours, and interesting idea, and because it reminds me of the one I already have. I suspect also because, as the lady who effected the sale assured me, no one ever buys any of the paintings of this particular artist. I think that's a shame! The name of the artist is Yvette Brugiere, by the way!
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| Same painting, different angles |
