To Market , to Market to sell a fine painting.....

Stagger out of bed at 5am and after grabbing some toast we set off for two markets. This will be my first time in martina franca at the arty market , by myself.

Even at 5.30am its light now, which makes it not seem quite so early. I am getting dropped off while j. goes on to another market further on. Should all work like clockwork!

So we arrive in the centro storico (Historical centre) and here I am with the umbrella set up at the side of the piazza. (The handle broke off while winding it up but will worry about getting it back down later.)There is always a lovely friendly feel setting up. No one is really in a hurry and when the woman selling jewelry next to me needed to move her stand along a bit everyone helped.

I decided to be minimalist today and so have unfortunately forgotten that some of my paintings have no frames so will be difficult to display. But in my slightly chilled (literally and physically) state I figure I will think of something . Round about this time the wind gets up and blows over half my paintings. Luckily not any with glass in them , as I had them lying flat.

Anyways ,eventually ,with the aid of 2 easels, a table and lots of bits of string to tie everything down, up and around ,I am set up.

Then I have time to look around. Next to me is a man with only 5 pieces of art. They are interesting and become more so as the day goes on. There are maybe a dozen vendors with paintings and three times as many with crafts, jewelry, pottery ,all sorts of things.

Its a great chance for me to practice speaking italian and luckily the man with the interesting art is really chatty. It 's his first time at a market. As the day goes on it gets warmer and eventually everyone is set up. Not that there is an opening time anyways, or not that I am aware of.

It is so great to be part of a market in a lovely old piazza. I would have liked to have taken more photos but in the spirit of minimalism had left my good camera at home.

(There is a point to the minimalism .)

So all day I sit and watch people go by, picking out the tourists easily by the way they are dressed , stand about and chat to giacomo next door, (now I know all about his art work and how it's made and what it means.) I go for a few little "giro 's" , including coffee and then I actually sell a painting. It's the one I did the afternoon before because it had a trulli in it (Little house with conical roof) and also i had always liked the photo I used as reference ,because of the criss crossing branches . That is a great feeling .

When it gets to lunch time Giacomo says his wife is bringing lunch and would I like her to bring some for me. As I am really hungry I say thank you. His wife is lovely and the food is great. And then we have a coffee.

The afternoon drags a bit but by 5pm people are coming out for a passiegata ( walk along the street, chatting to people and wearing nice clothes.)

Some of the stall holders get together in the middle of the piazza and do half an hours traditional music and singing. During this time Giacomo buys me an ice cream because he says music is better with ice cream.

Then I go see an exhibition by a local naive painter which really moves me and I finally work out why I paint the way I do.

And I am completely overwhelmed by the whole day, and did I mention early evening light is spectacular on the surrounding buildings.

It gets colder later on and when I go to get a hot cup of tea in a cafe I get an iced tea, with ice cubes in a glass. And it was too late to say it was wrong. (Shudder!)

There are several women who sell crafts , and some day , I will speak well enough to maybe be part of their group. They are sitting, chatting and laughing and I miss belonging.

Then it is impossible to leave until well after 9 pm as the narrow streets are packed with people and the car cant get near. ( The reason for minimalism being I thought I might have to carry everything some distance !)

However the car gets there and then somehow is manouvered out between vendors packing up, people walking by and then scrapes through incredibly narrow streets and we are on our way home.

What a brilliant day. wish you'd been there.

(Have not used Giacomo's real name.)

glass of wine, scooter lights and order

Am sitting at my desk, lunch is cooking and I have treated myself to a glass of wine. It has been another day of mixed emotions, varied happenings and not getting stuff done. And its only lunch time!

I may sound a little ungrateful for sun and art and the good life, but oh, for a little order or even boredom: no boredom is going a bit too far, just some routine.

Take today for instance. I had plans. I started ok. scootered up to studio , made fakey cappucino and checked emails. ok so far.

Then I got the chance to go out for coffee and ,well I did need to go to the post office. So off I went, telling myself that I never get started painting before 11am anyways , oh and if I dont go out what will I write about and more in that vein.

So after coffee, (I even tried to draw in the cafe) I made another visit to the post office where I waited for my number to come up and then got a bill and no book from America. (been waiting 6 weeks now and the other book arrived 3 weeks ago.)

And now due to somewhat heated interchange in cafe I have to go back to country house and pick up some documents. But it is only 10.30am Maybe I can get started at 11am yet.

So scooter back to country house, admire kitten in porch and then forgetting to leave bill set off for studio. On way note that scooter engine is making a strange clanking noise. console myself with the spurious reasoning that as I am a little anxious I am probably imagining it. So I clank up to Pisticci, forgetting to admire the lovely scenery as I am focused on getting some work done or I will never be able to afford to stay here. No pressure huh! ( and hoping that the clanking doesnt stop along with the motor!)

So back in the studio I turn on the computer and find an episode of Claire in the community and set to work. After half an hour of repainting stuff I did yesterday I realise I have a splitting headache so look for paracetamols. Cant find any so reluctantly leave painting and decide I had better go get some before the shops all close at 1pm for the siesta. On the way out I see that the mechanic who has often helped me out before is in his workshop so decide to ask him if he could fix the lights.( not the clanking, cause after all I could be imagining that, and if he doesnt say anything when he hears the engine then it is obviously all in my head, yes?)

So I ask him , if , when he has time , maybe he could possibly look at my lights? No wonder I cant speak Italian when I try to say things like that! So after making myself understood he kindly tells me to go bring it round now, so forgetting about the paracetamols I go get the scooter.

I stand around after explaining that the lights work but they seem to be crossed. They make a weird pattern on the road and I cant hardly see anything. That was even more difficult to explain and had to resort to hand gestures. Luckily there was a screw missing so that wasn't all in my head! Perhaps I could have put that better!

And then I waited and looked around and his workshop was so ordered and colourful and full of stuff. Like all this potential to make things better .( repair things). Maybe it was the way everything was ordered and contrasted with the curved ceiling and old walls. Maybe the fact that there were old things beside new things, beside machines for making metal wotsits.

And so very much more. It just had real personality.

I said how much I admired it, all the little drawers, and shelves and curious containers, and rows of tools in ascending order. He may well have been a little puzzled by my enthusiasm for his workshop, especially when I said could I go get my camera and take some photos but clutching a bag of tools which he had given me out of a particularly interesting cabinet with shallow sliding drawers, which I think he said had belonged to a chemist, I went off and returned with my camera and one of my newly made prints of Pisticci as a thank you for the tools.

So now my lights are fixed and I can adjust them myself if need be with one of my new screwdrivers. I also know how to lock my scooter wheel. ( I thought the wheel had jammed!)

Slightly embarrassing.

And now I have finished the wine, my lunch has dried out and I want some order in my life, maybe..................

the little car that wouldn't go.......

The little car sat in the garden in the south of Italy and waited.

The grass grew up round its wheels and cats slept on its bonnet. It was shaded by an old olive tree which fanned it in the breeze and scratched and hit it in storms.

It was old and tired and it just did not want to go anywhere, do anything, it was fed up!

Before it got to the garden It had sat in a yard with some other vehicles. It was in the town and there was lots going on so it wasn't bored. It got a bit scruffy and neglected but it wasnt a bad life.

Then one day some people came along and poked and prodded and pushed it around. they looked in the engine and tutted and shook fingers and then disappeared. The little car thought that was that and settled back to retire again but no sooner had it got comfortable than it was pushed and pulled and hauled and balanced and lifted and slightly broken and loaded on to a lorry. Luckily it was well tied on because the lorry sped off up hills round bends under trees and finally arrived in the garden where it was pulled off and parked under the olive tree.

And then a horrid time began in the cars life when it was taken to bits and put back together again, driven down the road and then taken to bits again. Then there was a spell when it was taken to another town and parked in a street and poked and prodded and argued over again. Someone called Angelo who seemed to be quite fond of it kept twiddling with this and that and then finally it stopped. The little car sat there for weeks.

Then one day Angelo got in and drove off in it, but unfortunately there was hardly any petrol so he didn't get very far. Next came a very small truck and several people shoved and pushed and shouted a lot and made the little car get in even though it broke one of its mirrors. That was a bad day for the car but Angelo was pleased . He had made it pass a test which had required more prodding and poking.

Later that day the little car had been taken back to the garden and then it sat there for months. It was rained on and the seats got wet. It got cold and would not start and it was quite miserable. But eventually the sun came out again and the car cheered up a little. There were things going on in the garden. A strange man was often around climbing trees and cutting bits off. Some times he fell down. That was funny. Sometimes he drove a tractor but he never spoke to the little car except to say, "useless piece of plastic" as he marched past. Sometimes he ran past chasing a cat.

The little car just watched.

Then one day a woman called Anna got in and tried to start up the engine. The little car held its breath and refused to start.

Later that day Angelo returned. He came back every day for what seemed like weeks and put in extra bits, then took them out again. He sighed , scratched his head and had a smoke a lot ,but eventually all seemed in order.

Now Anna was the owner of the little car and she was a little scared of driving but she was determined to be brave and take the little car out lots of places and take care of it. She thought it could become a very special little car. In fact she was going to write a book about it, where they went on lots of little journeys and visited interesting places and painted them.

So one morning , after Anna had not slept at all well because she was so anxious about taking the little car out for its first trip, she got up and before she got into the car she sat down and drew it in the garden. underneath she wrote MY AMICA IN THE GARDEN. Then she gritted her teeth got in and reversed round the corner. And then it stopped. And that was that. It would not go. The engine went on going but the little car would not move and nothing would make it go!!

Anna got out, pushed it back under the olive tree, got on her scooter (trying not to feel relieved) and left.

The little car let out its breath, relaxed, yawned and prepared for another day in the garden.

Not knowing that Angelo was speeding up the road with his tool kit and determined expression on his face......................................................................................................

Nothing is as good as the real thing

Been in the studio a lot recently , getting it upgraded to a slightly more functioning interesting artists hideaway. ( so now the electric doesnt work in half of it!) But it will get done and when its finshed it will look gorgeous, and most things will be as they should be.

But it means I have not been out or even up town for ages .I have been inside, painting decorating and on the internet. So when I went in the cafe today I was asked if I had been away as they hadn't seen me for a while. In the bank I heard someone referring to me as the signora inglesi. I waved to the man in the shop where I get gas, and who' s wife sold me the lovely bedcover on my wall. The man from the commune who is always really helpful, said, hello, and I have come back feeling all warm and cosy. I read somewhere that real life contact actually creates something in you that improves your health, and it needs to be face to face. Maybe...

Then earlier I was outside taking photos of my street and the view (again) and I realised that I can not take a photo that shows what I see. And I can take decent photos ,but it does not compare with actually being there and feeling as well as seeing it.

Tonight I am planning to go to a yoga class in Bernalda and I am looking forward to spending time with people. And I hope to get a little less creaky as well. I have tried to use a dvd on my own but I always give up.

Then last , but importantly, I got dressed up to go out and threw the old baggy clothes that I wear in the studio , cause I get painty and no one sees me anyways, in the wardrobe ( both doors open now, another thing that is fixed) and shot off on my scooter feeling at least ten years younger and looking about 2 kilos lighter without my normal 6 layers.

So hurray for real life, cause I need it to write"My life as a story".

why buying a bedcover I didnt really need was a good idea

huh, I expect you are thinking if you read this ,just what kind of excuse is she going to come up with for spending money on an enormous brightly coloured velvet traditional bedcover when money is a bit tight to put it mildly.

ahem, would I felt sorry for it work, it was just there beside the wardrobe( that I did need) unwanted and unloved ( it wouldnt be for sale if it was loved would it now!) somebody s treasured cover that was just pining away in a little old damp house. It was a charitable action on my part to take it away and give it a new home.

I should say that when it got delivered along with the wardrobe I did wonder what I was going to do with it. It s big. Its bright. And it smelled pretty damp!

This last ten days I have been living in the studio and doing it up with more and less successful paint effects, quite a lot of fakery and more gloss paint than I really like. Also moved lots of furniture , put doors back on when they fell off and managed to carry a whole armchair out one door and in the other without doing my back in.

So in the midst of this I was rather guiltily wondering what the heck I would do with this bedcover. I tried it as a tablecloth, oh no not good at all, I thought of using it as a bedcover, perhaps not ( I was told it was about 80 years old and am just a bit squeamish.) finally I decided to try and hang it on the wall. I have a cute little wooden ladder which is incredibly useful for all sorts of things, so I carefully stood it up on the bed and even more carefully climbed up it with a hammer, tacks and one end of the cover. It was even bigger than I thought and quite heavy but being intrepid, guilty , stubborn and quite good with a hammer I mangaged to get it hung up relatively straight.

Wow!

It completely changed the look of the room. It inadvertently matched the armchairs( wasnt that lucky) and the rug, but more than that it changed the atmosphere in the room from white and a little cold to warm , rich and interesting and gave me the theme for my whole studio. That is a sort of bohemian artist's fascinating 350 year old village house, studio apartment.

obviously my er psyche knew what it was doing when it let my mouth say "Va bene, prendo questo coperta."

pooper scooter

Just couldnt resist this. Maybe they are common all over the world but I have never seen one in action before.

This was in Taranto yesterday at the antiques market.

today in Pisticci

Am just back from Perth, probably prettiest town in Scotland, to my adopted home town ,Pisticci,the most beautiful town in the world according to some of its inhabitants.

This morning I went for a walk with my camera just to record how it is here today. It was warm , about 20 degrees and as usual I had far too many clothes on so was obliged to walk very slowly up the hill to save turning into a woolly beetroot. I have my image to think of!

It is a treat to walk slowly and take my time to see everything and say buon giorno to most people I meet. There are people sitting at their doors and I greeted one gentleman sitting reading the newspaper on the doorstep.

I always stop when I reach the railings and turn to look at dirupo. I can just see my studio underneath the church at the far corner.

Then I reach the fruit market at the end of the main street. There are people about and always cars. I take some photos as I love the colours of the fruit and veg and there is a lovely old stone chapel in the background.

After having a coffee in a bar where one of my paintings is hanging.( I am so impressed with myself when I see one of my paintings on display.) I take some more photos of people in the piazza and am heading off down the corsa when someone stops me and asks me for a business card. ( I am very impressed with that too.) Then the local photographer says buon giorno and I compliment him on the old photos of Pisticci in his window and he says he hopes they sell.(at least I think that s what he said.) and I carry on down the street stopping to take photos.

On the way down the hill someone shouts ,Signora. Its an elderly gentleman I have seen at the market. He greets me, gives me a sweetie and then walks off. Makes me smile all the way down the hill.

I take another route through dirupo so that I can take a photo of a pretty street and then arrive back at my studio where my flowers are alive.( alive is good!)

so now I am writing this. The door is open, net curtain flapping in the breeze and I am feeling very, very fortunate indeed.