les aquarelles du morbihan

a few pages from my watercolour pad, all painted en pleine air, sometimes en pleine vent!
...to revisit the loveliest month of May on the cliffs and beaches of my secluded and seductive stretch of the Morbihan coast...

sentir la marine...

a sea-mossy green heart cradled in a shallow tidal pool...

marine still-life basking in sun-warmed thalassotherapy...

invisible pelagic life-forms in a secret rock triangle...

a tidal guided seaweed-swirl around an unbudging stone...

strands of algae hair mimic the cracks in the rock...

black-winged birds and a spotted skull mark the rockface in mystic symbols...

abstracting into a study of blackened nubbly relief on gilded pile...

spreading ebonized filigree set with gemstone shells...

to a briny view of a sirenic "origin of the world"...

stone-aged

the ancient stones of Brittany exude a sense of immutability even as they have been used for various functional purposes...they evoke the forever placement, the quotidian usage, the deeply solid rootedness to this enchanted land...

the ever-flowing fount into a large shaded bassin where the healing waters kept cool by stones formed on holy ground can only soothe fervent minds...

a miniature stone temple dome to protect a well...

the village stone oven now long-cooled and draped with wild ivy...reminds one of the jungle-swaddled ruins of lost civilizations...

and these flower garlanded stone steps must rise up to "...des archipels sidéraux! et des îles dont les cieux délirants sont ouverts au vogueur: est-ce en ces nuits sans fond que tu dors et t'exiles, million d'oiseaux d'or, ô future vigueur..."*

[quoted french verse from Arthur Rimbaud's "Le bateau ivre", 1869, written when he was fifteen!]

signs of the times

"ghost signs" such as this old advertising sign for DUBONNET are not as easy to find anymore as buildings get repainted and renovated or demolished altogether...and even if they have been left on the walls, the elements will soon enough wear them away, fading them into oblivion...

an intriguing name on the side of a building in Vannes...

another "ghost sign" for an old scuba-diving gear company is now barely legible, but beautifully abstracting paint patches remain...

the name plate carved in stone for a house I covet facing the côte sauvage, somewhat protected under an overhang from the wild ocean sprays... [le courlis is a curlew, a wading bird with a long slender curved bill]

and in the dungeon-y depths of La Citadelle we find on a darkened wall these ancient depictions of two pose-y female saints - Sainte Anne being the patron saint of Brittany...

"to be a window..."*

"Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one
When they combine and mingle, bring
A strong regard and awe..."*

the vitrail above filters in holy light in the beautiful little stone church of "La Vraie-Croix", named for a tiny piece of the real Cross stolen by a magpie from a pilgrim and whose nest was on the tree where this church was eventually built upon...

windows... the eyes of houses to look out upon the world, and sometimes, to let us see the secret life within...
but other times remain firmly closed as in the above weather-worn wood shutter of an old stone "shed" in a farmer's field aging gracefully along with the primitive face carved in stone...

"He is a brittle crazy glass;
Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford
This glorious and transcendent place,
To be a window, through thy grace."*

a narrow wood-slatted window on the side of the most unusually elevated façade of the church of Sainte-Avoye...

in a courtyard in Nantes, we find these wood framed windows guarded by baby lion's heads[??]...

on a large guardhouse across from the most enchanting and undisturbed chappelle [I am not allowed to reveal the name in order to protect its location!] are these two medieval window styles - the above round one with a delicate cruciform grille and the square opening below covered with its cruder and sturdier keep-out iron grate...

and on another ancient barn, this upper-level window/door has its hinged-side opening stopped up with all manner of rags and debris...an indication of what is stuffed and stored inside, or more likely a desperate attempt to keep out pests, wind and even the slightest sliver of light...!

[*verses are from "The Windows" by George Herbert [1593-1633], appropriately written when most of these windows were first opened to let in the light...]

passion de la voile

sailing vessels are omnipresent on the waters of Brittany... they glide into view wherever and whenever one gazes out to sea... they stir the passion for steady winds and moderate waves and the freedom of boundless directions, wide open skies, and adventurous childhood dreams...

a partial glimpse of a colourful sail past towards the annual week-long sailboat festival in May around the Gulf of Morbihan, which is swamped with landlubbers and sailors alike and which we valiantly tried to view more of...

at dockside in La Trinité sur Mer, the contrast of a classic ketch with the latest in high-tech design at rest before racing off halfway around the world...

eager children rigging their boats for some lessons on the water before also racing off around the world!

from an island in the Golf we watch a sailboat glide past a row of beach cabanes...as we sit in the afternoon sun waiting for our bateau to come in...

the distinctive orangey-brown sails of a traditional sinagot waiting for the wind to pick up to move it through the islands of the Golf...

the windy waters around La Citadelle de Port-Louis usher sailboats of all sizes by the entrance to Lorient's harbour... this 16th century fortification was originally constructed by the Spaniards under Philippe II, then partially demolished at the end of the Spanish occupation and rebuilt again under Louis XIII... it now houses both the Musée national de la Marine and the Musée de la Compagnie des Indes [East India Company's museum], the only museum in France to depict the history of the great trading companies of the 17th and 18th centuries...

at anchor across from the massive German-built submarine bunker-base in Lorient, now disused, but still much too colossal to demolish...
nearby is the architecturally stylish Cité de la Voile dedicated to the legendary breton sailor Eric Tabarly and to the technology and adventure of sailing... "un lieu unique en Europe pour comprendre et partager le plaisir de naviguer"

architectural anomalies

as we wander around unassuming towns, seaside villages and bucolic countryside it is not difficult to spot the odd architectural specimen sticking out from among more conventional structures...

this lighthouse had been converted into a single hotel room with a 360 degree view, and le petit déjeuner is hoisted up on a seaworthy rope!.. [it is apparently the only lighthouse B & B in France]

near where we were staying is this solitary minimal castellated villa overlooking the sea, a little forlorn and stoic even on brilliant days softened by effusive expanses of wildflowers...

and of course, tumbling down old stone barns are always a poignant sight to behold... this one with a graceful roof curvature balanced so precariously that a strong gust of wind could reduce it to a mound of rubble as we stand and watch...

an evocative touch of chinoiserie to jazz up any street, even in the ancient celtic depths of southern Brittany... a little like me, an exotic anomaly amongst the hardy sailors, rough-and-ready pirates and salty-tongued fishermen...

and hidden above our favourite beach is a shuttered-up comanderie turned holiday-house that has its own gunnery bunker looking out to sea... a somewhat sinister feature to stumble upon on the most tranquil of beaches!

troc et puces

every weekend we plan road-trips to a wide circuit of vide-greniers, brocantes, troc et puces in search of the deal of the century!
from crowded school gyms and playgrounds to muddy fields and forest settings to portside fishmarkets and wharves to city squares and sidestreets, the piles of stuff is never-ending and drive me to crazed impatience, but it is also an excuse to explore the many small villages and towns we would otherwise miss...

on may day sweet children sell fragrant bunches of muguets [lily-of-the-valley] at the entrance to an enormous brocante in a forest grove off a country road...

hundreds of bargain-weary brocanteurs and multi-generational families congregate in organized campground chaos and spill out their dog-eared offerings to the thousands who will venture forth in rain or shine to pick through the millions of bits and pieces discarded from other people's lives...

I don't find much for myself anymore but still keep an eye out for things requested by friends and clients...
although always hoping to discover the unexpected...

this cool old engraving of a grouping of the Reines de France for 10 euros was very tempting...and the cool old gentleman selling it told us that it had been sitting [and deteriorating!] in his attic for decades...
now we regret not lugging it home!

as always, back to portside on the côte sauvage yielding up some elegant rejectamenta at low tide...
sometimes the visual cacophony of all these flea markets and attic sales can quieten down to the odd moment of a sublime grace note imagery...
[of which I don't need to purchase!]

de porte en porte

I know doors are a clichéd architectural feature to photograph, but every once in a while, I can't help myself!
and behind every closed door lies a mysterious interior and the secret ebb and flow of lives unseen...


through a locked and rusty iron gate and shaded by an unkempt garden, we imagine shifting shadows behind dusty window panes...but the white door appears unopened for a long time...

I peek through the crack and spy dirt floor and abandoned detritus scattered about under decades-thick dust...

another lost in time church we could not enter, especially this side door being slowly sealed up by creeping ivy...but through the crack, the light can still get in...

the odd placement of a small planter on the threshold must trip some hobbits up!...but the shaping of the large stone frame is most voluptuous...

and back on the côte sauvage, narrow doors buffer against the strong winds and other wild tempestuous beings!
the delicacy of the brick work against the salt-encrusted stone walls betrays perhaps a more refined soul within, forever peering out through the small round window above towards the crashing green waves...