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March 2009, vol 5 no 1
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Giselle Maya Campredon late afternoon i am the only person in the museum a somnolent old building shaded by trees worn stone stairs high halls of limestone late summer a bent human figure in each room bent on reading guarding the art or napping the painter is far away present only in his work the colors envigorate the eye colors magicked of pigments and oil imbued with light I move slowly from room to room the paintings are spacious absorbing full of mirrored images cat on a green chair its blue gaze le chat sur une chaise verte un regard bleu the paintings encircle me through the long windows I see fragments of the town Isle-sur-Sorgue surrounded by water they become a part of the paintings and of my own reflection trois fenetres un oiseau sur les branches et un miroir three windows a bird in branches and a mirror a bird's voice from green branches within and without i walk in silence and savor what the painter has made with his hands his brushes imagination for a short span this afternoon my eyes enter his world portrait d'une femme elle me regarde droit dans les yeux portrait of a woman she looks me straight into the eye une femme allongeé elle lit un conte dans un livre peint reclining woman reading a tale in a painted book théière seul sur un étagère huile sur panneau bois a teapot alone on a shelf oil on wood un panier de fruits peches et figues. . . envie de sentir a basket of fruit peaches and figs the scent of them The painter has visited Pompei and has witnessed what happened there centuries ago Pompei une femme tient un poisson juste avant que la lave deferle Pompei a woman holds up a fish just before the lava rushes in widening cracks in the wall composition in yellow ils s'elargent des fissures dans les murs composition en jaune un pigeon sur un mur vert clair- les autres s'envolent one pigeon on a light green wall— the others take flight I move reluctantly my eyes on each painting I accept it as an offering a gift a mirror transparent yet in the end I must leave the artist's world take with me the soft blues and greens almost an almond flavor indelibly brushed on wood and canvas by this painter whom I have never seen une fleur huile sur toile— dehors dans la cour un oiseau chante |