Ruggieri and Janin - artistes extraordinaire de Luberon

Philippe & Anne-Marie

This husband and wife artistic team made such an impression on me in 2009 during our last trip to the Luberon area of France and particularly their home town of Bonnieux, that we have today driven from Lourmarin, our home base during this current trip, and we have found Anne-Marie Ruggieri in the studio that we visited six years ago. We learned today that they now have a second gallery in Bonnieux called Kelia Galerie. Philippe works in this latter one. Both of them are remarkable artists. Since our last visit they have both done many works in pastels which seem to compliment the subject matter of Anne-Marie’s landscapes and still lives, and Philippe’s nudes. The nudes are new subject matter since I last saw his work. After our 2009 trip, I wrote a blog post about them and I place the link to that here, ‘Artists Anne-Marie Ruggieri and Philippe Janin.’ They have a marvellous website with both French and English capabilities, called Janin et Ruggieri.

Today as we spent time with Anne Marie, we purchased one of their five art books, this one called 'Luberon, Le triangle d’Or.’



Bonnieux is several kilometres from Lourmarin up steeply curved and circuitous climbs, but we may go again to see how he is. They honour their country and the specific region so well by their impressionist work. I enjoy their paintings very much.

Christine had explained that we had been here 6 years earlier and visited this gallery, that I was an artist and that I liked their work. Anne Marie was so pleased.





She was so friendly and engaging with us and she said she would sign it for us and then she began to do a pen landscape sketch on the inside cover, at the bottom of which she signed her name and the date 29 Septembre 2015.




She told us that if we then went into the village to the other gallery, Philippe would also sign it.

























 Within minutes, someone came in to tell her that Philippe had fallen was hurt and had been taken to the hospital in Apt, and she was immediately visibly concerned. Our visit ended with our thanks to her and our expression of trust that her husband would be alright.












Then on Monday … we returned because Philippe communicated he could receive us. He was well, and had not been badly injured, and he was happy to visit with us.





In his gallery he signed our book and posed for photos with us.

Philippe Janin signing a book for Christine and Ron Unruh

Anne Marie Ruggieri and Ron

by Ron Unruh

At the Beach

A NEW LEARNING
I did this quick watercolour the other day. A pencil sketch first on an 8X10 inch sheet and then I applied watercolour paint. Once my favourite medium, I have not painted a watercolour picture in years. This one probably looks like I need a refresher course. I do enjoy this medium and I enjoyed painting this small piece. I want to do more of it. That inspiration came from watching some of the best watercolourists in the world during my travels in France. Watercolour is called aquarelle in France.

Watercolour permits some refreshing and spontaneous effects. Since the paints flow and since you can let colours bleed into one another, the many resultant soft edges produce an impression rather photographic realism, at least when I use them. On the other hand one can also achieve precise lines by preventing the flow of colours. Didier Brousse is a master watercolourist who lives in Lourmarin where Christine and I lived for two weeks in April 09. His work is extraordinarily marvelous. His reputation and international sales have enabled him to charge superstar prices for his paintings. He has his own gallery in Lourmarin, an out of the way Luberon town, yet one that is frequented by tourists. I cannot refer you to internet ogling of his work since his website is in development and crazily there is a French photographer with the identical name so Googling picks up his references. Try as I did, there was only one site that had an image of one of his paintings, and certainly not one of his best.


I have found Mary Penley Fine Artists online gallery that shows some of his work.
The final photo is of Brousse's own studio in Lourmarin. I spent some time there relishing his craft.

THEOLOGY AND HOSPITALITY

A NEW LEARNING
My Bible reading has informed me that there is a correlation between good theology and hospitality. Biblical records and Middle Eastern culture considered it to be a cultural norm to take care of the strangers and foreigners living in the community. Christine and I experienced it.

In the Provencal town of Lourmarin, Christine and I lived for two weeks. We quickly adjusted to the wonderful habit of buying fresh croissants and a baguette for our petite dejeuners in the mornings. On our second day (Tuesday) in town we walked around town and then stopped at the Reformed Lutheran Church and read its sign board. We took many pictures. Irises lined the boulevards. By the weekend we had become acquainted with a number of shop owners and felt very comfortable in town but we were still strangers, tourists. As Sunday morning dawned, a very rainy day, we nonetheless decided to go to the Reformed Lutheran Church. We arrived and were greeted en Francais by the pastor (a retired cleric). Perhaps twenty parishioners took their places in front of us in this large sanctuary. While it is a blend of Calvinism and Lutheranism it leans strongly toward Calvinism. Ten Commandments in two large tablets were on the front church wall. We did our best to sing the hymns and listen to the oration. At the service’s conclusion two visiting Belgian couples spoke with us, as did one local gentleman named François Wencelius. François asked for our phone number.

François called later and invited us to dinner with his wife several evenings later. On that evening Francois picked us up at our gite (apartment) and took us to his Provencal hobby farm home. We learned that he was a retired agricultural specialist for France and had been posted throughout his career in various parts of the world. He also worked for the World Bank and lived in Maryland for 17 years as well as working for the US government. Upon retirement they moved to his father’s family property in Lourmarin.

His wife Nicole began studying art and painting while living in the United States. She is now an accomplished artist, painter and sculptor. We spent a wonderful evening of eating and conversation with them and another couple, Wilfred and Beatrice who had recently moved to the area. (Some of Nicole's sculptors are seen here.)

We were very grateful for this demonstration of hospitality extended to complete strangers. Francois explained that it was the least he could do for people who had come so far to be in their town and church. I interpreted the kindness as a practical gesture of his theology. Isn't it great to see the interplay?

What to do with the Time that is given to us

A NEW LEARNING
In the small town of Lourmarin in the Luberon Hills of Provence, Christine and I were introduced to the concept of time in the life of the French. Our gite (apartment) was accessed on the high point of the village after a modest walk up very narrow cobble stone lanes or one lane roads. The gite was within a tiny square which contained other dwellings, an art ‘gallerie’ and an historic Catholic church. Near the steps of the small church was a fountain where the sound of the water spout was comfortable and constant. Here is a painting I did while sitting on my porch. This square was frequented by daily tourists passing by and pretending to be locals we watched them from our small porch on the second level. The church tower bell sounded every hour, one gong for each hour, and one gong on the half hour. Everyone wears wristwatches now of course yet town time was still marked by the church bell. All the business establishments shut their doors when twelves chimes rang out and didn’t reopen until the single clang at 2:30 pm. Town time included this liberal lunch break and midday sleep time. Initially, we wondered whether we could accustom ourselves to the constant audio reminder that time was passing, specially at two, and three, and four o’clock in the morning. Yet someone told us, “Soon you will not notice the chimes.” Someone was correct. Within days the bell was a friendly sound, and through the nights it was hardly discernable as our sleep habits adjusted. Each morning I arose, dressed and walked down to the main street, again one lane and one way for vehicles. Passing people we would exchange a respectful “Bonjour.” Three minutes later I entered the Boulangerie from which drifted the aroma of fresh bread beckoning us all. Always there were people in line at the Boulangerie. No one was in a rush. A vehicle would stop outside the boulangerie, blocking the one lane traffic and the driver would enter the shop to buy his baguette. Other cars simply waited behind his roadblock, patient, no horn honking, no road rage. Each patron walked out with baguettes under our arms or croissants in a bag. “Merci, au revoir et bon journee,” the clerk would say as I left. Ohh, the croissants, buttery, warm, flaky and fattening. All good! At the corner where two café/pubs were located, locals were already sitting at outside tables with their espressos and watching us pass. Christine and I wondered then and now whether the pace of life which we admired in a French village is transferable to our culture. Of course it can’t be entirely. Here, most of our merchants operate in areas removed from our homes, so we are wheeled society. Our home and yard require much work to maintain and all that takes time, so we consider downsizing to a smaller place where yard work is done by someone else. Yet if we liberate more time for ourselves, what can we do with it? Travel more? Paint more? What? That’s where the time question brings me. Retirement has already provided more discretionary time to me. Does time in retirement come with responsibility or is it entirely mine now to use as I choose?

In J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, Gandalf said, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

Ah, and I am a person with the conviction that the one who has given me time is the Father. My time is in his hands. What I decide about the use of my time must reflect the sincerity and measure of my dedication to him. Yet this obligation does not have to be perceived as unfun and onerous since I believe that wise use of time may be as simple as kicking the soccer ball with my grandson Ryan, and hitting golf balls with my grandson Kale, and teaching my granddaughter Kailyn how to paint with acrylics, and wrestling with my grandson Jayden (JJ) and letting my two year old granddaughter Kadence snuggle with her head into my neck for long periods of time, and painting my son Jeff’s window trim, and having coffee with my friend Bob, and…. I suppose the itinerary is endlessly delightful and significant.

Day 13 - Whatever Else this day is, it's the Anniversary of Dad's Death

Day 11 - The first of May is May Day. It is observed by an assortment of customs depending upon the country and locality. Here in France on May 1st, 1561, French King Charles IX of France received a lily of the valley as a lucky charm. He decided to offer a lily of the valley each year to the ladies of the court. At the beginning of the 20th century, it became custom on the 1st of May, to give a sprig of lily of the valley, a symbol of springtime. The government permits individuals and workers' organisations to sell them free of taxation. It is also traditional for the lady receiving the spray of lily of valley to give a kiss in return.

In western countries May Day is synonymous with International Workers' Day, or Labour Day, which celebrates the social and economic achievements of the labour movement. As a day of celebration the holiday has ancient origins, and it can relate to many customs that have survived into modern times. Many of these customs are due to May Day being a cross-quarter day, meaning that (in the Northern Hemisphere where it is almost exclusively celebrated) it falls approximately halfway between the spring equinox and summer solstice. See Wikipedia entry for May Day.

Yet for me this year May 1st is the first anniversary of my father's death at the age of 93. Had he lived, Edward Richard Unruh would be 94 years of age today. I thought reaching 93 and living on his own and with the doctor's opinion that he was in good health was a significant accomplishment. His sweetheart Tina, my mom, preceded him six months earlier. He did very well. I loved them both very much.

(the photo is of our terrace view from our second floor at La Petite Mason in Lourmarin.)

And by the way this is our Last Day in Lourmarin before we move on to The Duckhouse at Praderies Bas / Aquitaine/Dordogne / Le Buisson de Cadouin. The Duckhouse is the cottage where we will live for one week.