Place Tertre, Butte Montmartre : painters

The small girl, my grand daughter, in this picture grew up: is not 19 years old. Her two bigger cousins where visiting in Paris, the first time in their life. Now all three are in different universities. 

We went to visit place de Tertre, on the top of Butte Montmartre. Was I still living there, or already in Argenteuil, North West of Paris? I have to admit, I do not remember. 

What I remember, and at least ten pictures give me "back" the time, is that my Grand Daughter was the one daring to ask the Painter questions, and that the Painter, very nicely did answer her. Not only answered her but showed her how he does paint. Gaby become an Art student! She does different things with creation of the art, does not specifically paint, but being interested, daring to ask, discover, for sure helped her. 

First street scene: the grapes were not sour!

First workshop of Paris Photography, we went at the back of Butte Montmartre, near the 18e District, and we were supposed, after taking a few pictures together to go each our way, and meet near the rue Poteaux market. There is a cafee at the corner café - pub, with chairs outside.

I was one of the firsts to arrive there and sit down, looking at the market and street life around me.

At the corner, was a fruits seller with a shop inside and fruits outside to entice clients. Suddenly, I see this old lady arriving and tasting. Tasting the grapes, tasting and tasting and tasting. I took this photography, without her noticing, she was all in eating, in fact. 

She stopped only when the seller come out, and made her buy a small amount of fruits. 

Earth day, Greenwich park with my camera. Went to take picture of the Royal Observatory and the tourists, and the view from up the hill. Come back with this picture, one of the favorites. 

At one side, it is already spring, beautiful spring green leaves cover the trees along the alley. On the other side, still winter. Do we look only at one side? "It is winter, it is cold, it is sad." we can say then. But when we look at the other side, the new, renewal, hope is already there.

My ex husband died and just learned it, as his third wife called one of her daughter. Suddenly so many memories rushed to me. Some, towards our end together were like the winter trees. Difficult times. Others, not only months but years of the beginnings, joyful  wonderful moments remembered. In fact, have to look at both. Accept both sides.

Kissing in the Park, Paris

It was so long I was not kissed! 

Did I ever kiss in  a Park? In plain view? 

I do remember once, when I was 23 but it was a hidden bench, in a huge park near a lake. Our first kisses, with Sandu, who later, a lot later become the father of my children. 

This was taken in the suspended park, in the back of the new Opera house near Bastille, Paris. It was our second photowalk with my photography workshop. We were show shadowns of the benches, and then to take photos looking down. Then all rushed down and I went slower. As I approached the stairs to go down here is what I discovered. 

They were kissing, kissing all around them forgotten. 

I decided to show them this angle, where their faces do not show. All of us add to it what can, want, may.

Are you home?

I visited a pal in Dophinee, her home place home house. We both wrote Autobiographies. A couple that lived near Grenoble most of the year, where her husband was university professor, but whenever she could, she came "home". This woman was the village's older woman.

My pal left me one morning, for a whole day with this 90+ years old wonderful woman and we had a great day together. This was the last photo I took away from her, after many others. Showed me and posed with her flowers, at the bench behind her house. Inside.

But my preferred photo is not this one but the one bellow. 

She wanted to present me to her best friend, a few houses farther in the village. Her friend did not answer. Then she looked in the window: "was she really not home?"

Looking at it, I still feel, I am there. It seems so real, so authentic to me. 

I have send her all the photos, direct to her address. And my pal had gifted me with an album of André Kertesz in Dophinée, photos he did in the mountains, not very far, for a newspaper magazine, that never appeared finally. The article was not written. As André Kertesz gifted all his French photos to Louvre, some researchers found the Dophinee pictures and published them with a long text. I learned so much from those photos!

The long corridor and all alone in it

I was asked to go to a test: do I have cancer?

Alone, I knew, they will put me in a tube. And had to go there under the hospital through a long corridor.

No one was there.

Other then me, and... my camera!

With my camera, I felt a lot better. Taking the long corridor, instead of thinking what is there, after the door opens.

They did not find cancer, but the noise inside the tube was very disturbing.

After a while, I made a black and white variation of the picture "in gray" as it seemed more "in the mood" I had that time.

Not only it is one of my favorites, but also those of many photographers.

Somehow, without words even, it tells a story.

Not giving up!

1st May in France, Argentuil. Festivities organized by the town hall near the Seine river. It goes on, whatever the weather. 

That day, I walked to the Seine, not realizing it will rain. A small drizzle come, but as I arrived to the Can Can dancers the rain begun stronger and stronger. The dancers did not stop! 

The audience took out their umbrella. I asked one with umbrella to let me go under it so I could take a few pictures of the proud young women who did not stop dancing with rain pouring on their shoulder and imbibing even the podium. 

This girl held her head high and proud and continued as the others, but even prouder as the rain come down on her. This picture spoke so much to me! I made a big copy and put in my living room to remember. To give me courage, each time I needed. 

She tells me "do not let the circumstances forbid what you want to do", do int anyway. What does it tell to you?