Les Beaux Artes

"With our being back in a nice villa on my beloved Riviera (between Cannes and Nice) I'm happier than I've been for years. It's one of those strange, precious and all too transitory moments when everything in one's life seems to be going well."
~ France Scott Fitzgerald - March 15, 1926

I am in the presence of greatness at this hotel. At least in the presence of a little plaque with an excerpted quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald's stay at le Belles Rives.

One of my favorite authors is not the only artist who sought creative escape in the French Riviera; in the Nice to Antibes corridor alone, you will find national museums dedicated to Picasso, Matisse, Chagall, Leger, and Renoir - all of whom called the French Riviera somewhere in between an extended vacation or their home during their lifetime.

Yesterday, Peter and I toured le Musee de Picasso in Antibes. Le Musee houses many of the works that Picasso created during his two month stay in the Chateau Grimaldi along the ramparts of the old city. He was here during the early 1940's, right after completing his iconic masterpiece, Guernica - a graphic, bestial depiction of the Spanish Civil War. While here though, the eccentric, often tortured artist, depicted life on the sea. His sketches and final pieces are tranquil, peaceful, and a return to his neo-classical style, which so often emerged during pivotal, more placid points in his career. While here he also returned to a more timid, beautiful version of the female figure and visage. His wife at the time, Jacquelin, looks like a sea swept muse - a vivid contrast to the screaming, monstrous portrayals of another one of his wives, Olga. Picasso was obviously an artist in love, in harmony, and inspired during his etes en la sud de France.

Being here, following in the footsteps of master artists, writers and philosophers, who each have found solace in their sojourns to the Riviera, makes me think of the kind of art I could do if I stayed just a little longer.

I am an amateur artist at best - an amateur chef, pianist, dancer, singer, painter, ceramicist, dramatist and writer. I dabble, and although often proud of my creations, only my family and friends view them as masterpieces. Perhaps it's because I don't have the inspiration for truly original art. I have never been tortured, suffered the kind of war and misfortune that can spark artistic development, or had a bout of unrequited love. Perhaps its because I don't have the time - I don't have the hours in my day to transform my artistic pursuits from hobbies to professions. Or perhaps it's because I only get to spend a couple days on the French Riviera instead of months of years.

If I were here longer, I could be a better cook. I would go to the Marche Provencal tous les jours and I would cook with legumes, pommes de terres, et aubergines that were just picked from the heavenly farms along the inner Riviera. I would have my lamb chops cleavered by the butcher right in front of me. And I would serve Provencal Roses with an entre of saussicon au champignon et la fromage de Brebis.

Don't worry, Kristen, I passed on the dried fruit.

And my writing - oh how I could write better. No longer, confined to my cube at work, my little desk on West Street, or the local Starbuck's, I would have inspiration upon inspiration.  I would write about picnics a la parc that make even local Frenchies smile and say, "Bon Appetit!" I would write about magnificent runs along the coast line, where you don't just get a pep in your step from a fellow runner's nod, but from a fellow runner's euro short shorts and friendly, "bonjour!" I would write about my lover's day fare-ing la ski nautique. And how he smoked his little Frenchie cigarette with such savoir fare. I would write among swims in the Mediterranean. And sunset dinners.

The singing, dancing, and dramatic arts would follow suit, as I would have time to practice them all in the bars and discoteques of Juan les Pins. Sabbatical is what, 8 years away?

Although, relaxed and at ease in Antibes, the works that Picasso created here are not valued as highly as the ones he created in Paris and Spain - the ones he created out of desperation, confusion, turmoil, and his daily surroundings are the most prized possessions. Basically, the world that Picasso knew everyday, inspired his greatest works. He just had the vision to make disaster into beauty.

After our honeymoon, we'll by no means be going home to travesty or turmoil. And although the magic of the wedding and honeymoon are transitory, we'll continue to believe that life is going very well. I will be returning to the mundane, but like my favorite artists who have looked onto the sunsets of the French Riviera as I am now, I will not only see art here, but at home. And I will continue to build my amateur status and create art out of the interactions, scenes, and people of the Great Midwest.

It's dinner time. A tout a l'heure.

Lo.