I started to become a little obsessed with trying to determine the exact colour of almost indistinguishable hues. Trying to isolate and determine the colour makeup of each cluster of green from the near hills, for example, was a maddening mission and a mind blowingly thankless task. Why was I doing this to myself anyway? I’d started months ago to challenge myself to be able to identify and mix almost any colour with my limited palette, within an acceptable degree of success. However I realised I was slipping into an unhealthy obsession and I was mentally testing myself constantly. This was something that if gone unaddressed was going to ruin my enjoyment and completely sabotage my ability to respond. A simplification and a much less pedantic mental approach was required before I started to put paint to paper.
That View
I had been captivated by the view that I was seeing each time I looked outside. Observing the change of light across the distant hills which, throughout the day, would slowly revealing a different topography to the landscape on a seemingly constant bases. The furthest hills would emerge onto the horizon before slowly being swallowed by the sky as the light increased making the two almost indistinguishable. The closer hills revealed greater contrast between shadow and light creating texture and a whole gamut of colours.
At differing times of the day, when I would suddenly glance the landscape, I would immediately think “wow, blue hills” or I would identify warming magentas. Then started the almost automatic process of colour rationalisation, good ol’ left side of the brain, telling me that trees were green….well, yes left brain, I know trees are green but through the atmospheric distortion, green was not an accurate description of the light that I was seeing.
You realise that the light reaching you from distant hills are actually hues of violet, which lean towards blue or red depending on the time of day, weather conditions and distance. You then start to realise just how excitingly deceptive our perceptions are and how important it is to respond to that initial impression. Especially when you are trying to translate an experience of seeing something into a quick spontaneous sketch or painting.
All you really need to concern yourself with in that instance is establishing the approximate hue, within the correct temperature range (warm or cool), and the right balance of values (light/dark). These are the building blocks, the method of application to paper is the responsive expression part and the bit that excites me the most.
Gros Bessillon
I needed to get out into those hills and have a stomp about. Ever aware that doing so would just bring me right in the thick of the very thing that I had been admiring from a far, not the best perspective for observation to give myself. I had been doing some homework and found a 813m mountain called Gros Bessillon. The walk started around 20 mins drive away and sounded perfect, the height over the surrounding peaks and hills would give me the vantage point that I wanted with the added bonus of feeling like I was getting out there and connecting with the landscape, which is something that I believe can only come from hiking and walking. In temperatures which were well up in the mid 30s I was hesitant to attempt this hike unless in the early morning or late evening. As luck would have it later that afternoon clouds rolled in and according to the forecast were set to stay. It might make things a little more muggy but at least I wouldn’t have too much blazing sun over head. I quickly packed up a minimal kit, just a few sketchbooks, some pens, camera, sound recorder and of course my water camel pack. This was an exploration mission as much as anything else.
The start of my walk was a little frustrating. Trying to find an obvious and unobstructive place to park was my first irritation. I was probably being too British, the French seem to have a much more lapsed/tolerant attitude to parking. Trying to reach the start point, according to directions that I had, led me and the car fleeing a pursuit by two very determined dogs, who thankfully stopped promptly at what I guess was the boundary to their territory, which I wasn’t prepared to argue. The trouble was that my search for a suitable parking space and my insistence at finding the correct starting point kept me going around in circles, leading me inevitably back towards the dogs. After a fourth attempt and having wound the hounds up sufficiently enough to the point where I thought they were trying to bite the car, it seemed unwise to continue trying to find my intended start point, and find my own way, otherwise I could be running up the mountain. I drove over a cattle grid, which in the circumstances seemed like a very good idea and a few hundred yards up the road found a nice dog-free space for me to safely park the car.
Walking on Gros Bessillon
The walk was very good. A rocky mountain trail climbed upwards through wooded areas periodically intersecting with a tarmacked winding road, which was prohibited to motor vehicles. This gave some reassurances in case I became lost.
After about an hour of walking the two paths joined to just the single tarmacked road, leaving the wooded area behind. Some views loomed into view but where dissolved by the hanging overcast sky. Later, on a returning visit, I would learn that these views were really quite breathtaking.
I came across some wonderful whitish blue limestone rocky outcrops, supporting various vegetation including some very distinctive trees. This was what I was hoping to find. There was something about this combination, the specific geology, colour and light of this limestone, the trees and fauna that said Provence, to me at least. Probably harking back to the paintings of the French impressionists, I couldn’t help but think, they really did nail it!
Solitude
I crave solitude on a daily bases back home. I enjoy being able to dip in and out of the company of others but on the whole I am most content when I’m on my own. I loved how completely and utterly alone and self reliant I felt. Not just whilst I was on that mountain but since leaving the airport. I had fears before leaving the UK, that some of the areas that I would want to visit, and hopefully keep revisiting, would be over run with people. Would Provence be overrun like many areas of the Lake District or Snowdonia, where despite every effort it seems impossible to be away from others. I’m sure that certain areas do get busy but so far, so good. Even the roads have far fewer cars on them than I had feared.
Those that know me well will often hear me say “I don’t like people” it’s true! I really don’t. (Present company, family and friends obviously excluded). I know that there are holes, contradictions and arguments to be had with my sweeping statement but there is a wonderful stillness that comes when you realise that you could be the only person around for miles and you’re not about to be drawn into someone else’s life, hearing their noise, their chatter, their presence. There’s a sense of connectedness that is quite liberating.
Also, slightly concerning when you disturb something fairly large in the undergrowth and a question pops into your head; “Does France have mountain lions? Something I’m sure someone would have mentioned….or maybe it’s common knowledge….mental note, check for mountain lions”
The thought did keep me amused, especially around dusk. Not to worry, there aren’t any. Wolves, possibly, but no mountain lions….It was most likely a Mountain Goat, Deer or maybe a Boar.
The Summit
At the top of Gros Bessillon was a weather station, which comprised of a fenced off building and scattered around the perimeter where various weather measuring apparatuses, most of which I as able identify. I kept looking for signs of life but I don’t think anyone was home. I know that this is one of those contradictions but I wouldn’t have minded trying to manage some sort of conversation with anyone who may have been in that building, possibly to ask if setting up a solargraphic camera would be possible. I subsequently tried to find out who actually runs the weather station with the hope of contacting them to do just this but it wasn’t at all clear. I hope that during a future visit, I may be able to meet with someone to investigate more about what they do, explain my interest and work with the weather. It would certainly be interesting to spend some time in a location like this, with some of my wind drawing machines and just to generally observe the weather from an artistic point of view but also with a meteorological explanation and understanding. The idea of combining scientific study and art has been an interest that I have been wishing to pursue for some time now back in the UK, and fully plan to, I just wasn’t expecting to have that interest reignited during this trip. Just goes to show how interconnected everything is.
I did manage to produce a quick wind response sketch, just before it was time to head back down the mountain before nightfall and just as the heavens opened.
Whilst speedily heading down the mountain before sunset was complete and with thoughts of mark making and recording motion, I decided to try something a little different. I firmly placed my open sketchbook against my chest, placed my pen to paper and without lifting it allowed my drawing arm to freely move with each stride and stumble, leaving a trace recording of sections of my walk back to the car.
