swapping files and such.

 Another pre-dinner walk after another calm day. It was hot here, today, around 90-degrees, but my room benefits from a cross-breeze and I stay cool (yeah).

Marnay-Sur-Seine is small but has its share of alleyways and nooks and crannies, and the river is always close-by. Most houses are well-tended, though apart from the high schoolers looking to jump into the river in the late afternoon, most life seems to take place inside. Being here during a festival might give the chance to see the village put itself on display. Or maybe an artist exhibition.

All these old structures, full of the texture of stone, they look like they are part of the earth, just shaped into houses (which is, after all, what they are!). But so different from modern habitats.

Windows and doors, entrances, exits, looking out, looking in.

The stonework benefits from the presence of the color splashes of flowers - a harmonious contrast.

To the Seine. Always flowing, with a strong current. Home to the pair of swans that glide up and down this little stretch.

Maybe, it being September, this dinghy has seen most of its action for the year already. One feels the recent echoes of its water expeditions.

Gravel roads like this everywhere, leading to fields planted in rows with poplar, a source of income for the village. This road leads away from the "beach", towards the east.

Looks like fall already visited this row of trees.

Stone, brick, metal, and wood, strong personalities, each.

One of two village wells I have seen so far. Both boarded up, one would like to believe having nothing to do with the nuclear power plant next door.

They're pretty safe unless they spring a leak or blow up, or so I hear (nuclear power plants, that is).

More paint splashes, visual counterpoint to earthy stone.

Rooftop patriotism. America is not the only place where national pride emanates from private dwellings.

Neighborhood cat, ready to skitter off if I get any closer.

Solid statement: "I am a green, wooden door on a grey, stone wall".

What might have been a wealthy villager's home in past centuries. Inner courtyard. This village, with its little mairie and church, feels like it must have been a comfortably intimate size at some point in its long-ago. Everyone knew what everyone was up to.

Roses, violently red.

Nice design for a bench and table on the side of the road.

Another french feline, this one even more scraggly than the last, Reluctantly prepared to spring into action if I stuck around a little longer.

The botanical garden, painted up by visiting South American artists.

The village school ("ECOLE"). Wonder if it still operates, but don't think so. Another use?

More stone/metal/brick (+glass) cooperation, black metal line against pastel.

Strips of texture.

Some ancient rock. Purpose? Why are you on the side of the road?

The church next door. Waiting for a classical guitar recital.

The bells ring all day and up until 10pm. Hunchback of Notre Dame no more, just an electric timer. But you still imagine someone's in there, swinging on the ropes.

Wood trapped.

Long-haired tree.

Former window.

The church again, from the Grande rue.

Back at Camac.

My (t)rusty bicycle here. The tape will be gone when I leave, just as it has before, but for the present, this is my range rover to have adventures with.

Walls as thick as an elephant, big, bad wolf-proof.

Watercraft in front of Camac.

Today was partially spent moving 1's and 0's around on hard drives, then some character coloring (a little more after this post). Thursday, going to the nearby town of Provins, a UNESCO-approved village with a dusty museum, a tower, and hopefully a nice café from where one can sketch passersby with a nice glass of   fizz water.

today

In spite of being out in the boonies, we are all still hooked up to our computers, in the evening after dinner (nobody plays Scrabble). We all stare at our computer screens to catch up with e-mail and other things before wandering off to bed. But apart from that tether (and the fact that I myself spend 80% of the day on the computer), so much of general life here has nothing to do with this dreadful machine. I watched the swan couple take off from the Seine today - they require a lot of effort as they are big birds, kind of like 747’s. And fish jump from time to time. I have yet to see one in action, just catch the ripples, but Feng Chen tells me you just have to wait, staring at the river, and do nothing, and you will see one. So that sounds like a good activity to me.

Our french chef Karine made us ratatouille, meatballs, and couscous tonight, with some kind of pound cake for dessert. It’s like being in somebody’s home restaurant every day. She starts around 8:30am (she’s actually the bookkeeper, here, but since they are waiting for their next cook to arrive, she’s doing double duty until that happens), standing in front of the counter in high heels, and does her thing. I can hear all the activity because I’m in the room next to the kitchen. It’s a pleasant start to the day. She studied to be a chef but switched paths because, I think I heard, she didn’t want to deal with people in restaurants. So now she has artists instead, and she’s cooking for them, anyway. You can’t win, huh.

Most of today was spent juggling computer files, but I did go for a pre-dinner walk with Feng Chen (everybody else was busy typing or painting). It was a warm day, but a 90-degree day here is not the same as a 90-degree day in Philadelphia. It’s still cool if you stay in the shade with the cows.

Ramona our Resident German had us all worried last night like mother hens because she disappeared all day without a trace. She showed up late and we saw her in the morning, big smile on her face announcing she'd been on a bike ride. She’s 27 but looks like 17, tall as a bean pole and takes photographs. She’s direct and full of zip.

I don’t think the traveling priest will come to Camac - too many unrepentant artists roaming the grounds here, but he will go to Pont-sur-Seine for his monthly visit. I may visit the church next door (it’s locked but they give you a key to have a look around on Tuesdays and Fridays), bring the guitar and enjoy the acoustics all to myself.

A lot of the trees around here have been placed in rather orderly rows.

Pont-sur-Seine lunch expedition.

Walked to Pont-sur-Seine this morning with Lindy, Irene, and Ann. Feng-Chen and Ramona stayed at Camac to work. We ate lunch at "The Ottoman". An agreeable meal with good company, good food, and two cats in a ranch-style French courtyard with highly emotive French pop music from the 1970's and 80's.

A brightly sunny day, and the walk was not without radiation of the solar variety. We made it back without incident, though I don't know if the others will be eager to repeat the whole six miles again anytime soon.




Otherwise, aiming to finish coloring a shot today and start and finish coloring the last two character image sequences by the end of the weekend. The shot to the left is a loop, but as the figure walks across the screen, the background behind him needed to be erased, so this takes a bit longer than usual.

Planning a trip to Troyes on Tuesday - the big town of the region.

Marnay-sur-Seine pre-dinner walk.

At work painting line drawings on the computer in the purple room.

 Guitar break on the porch.

Pretending to be engrossed in tourist guide in the living/dining room. This room serves as the social hub, partly because we eat dinner together here, and also because it is the place where the wi-fi reception works.

So much good fruit everyday.

I suspect a previous artist's table (in-residence), part of the decor in the purple room.

Went for a late afternoon stroll around Marnay-sur-Seine today to get a little better sense of the village. Lots of strong light contrasts in the early evening sun and shadow.

The village has many well-tended, renovated stone houses. From what I have been told and what I have been able to figure out so far, these are retired couples, Parisians' summer homes, probably a few folks who work at the nuclear power plant or the local agro-science corporation, and maybe even an ancient, old-time resident or two wondering what the heck happened.

Either someone's cute idea, or an old name with a different signification.

It's a charming place, with two artist residency organizations seemingly providing the bulk of business activity (there's nothing else except for tree-harvesting, dairy cows, and hay). Babies' cries emanate from inside the mairie (the mayor must be a young mom), tree-felling across the Seine kept the serenity at bay yesterday, and screaming teenagers populate the Seine's waters in front of Camac in the afternoons, but otherwise, it's pretty calm.

Texture everywhere.

Dinner after this stroll was yet another restaurant-worthy meal, with cream of something soup (maybe tomato?) and lentils and rice, with tiramisu to end. Apparently Karine studied to be a chef but decided to change course, and we are amongst the beneficiaries. We popped open a bottle of champagne (fortunately I did this on the porch rather than inside, as it fairly well exploded out of the bottle).

Tomorrow a group excursion through the fields to Pont-sur-Seine, a village with a boulangerie, two restaurants, a library...well, that was a previous post (see below a bit).

The days go by without much need for a clock, but still they cycle through their revolutions...our stay here, like everything, won't last forever, even though some of the stone buildings here seem willfully to defy time's transformative touch.