You cannot imagine what a thrill it was, the day I found my blue compotier. I had loved Pierre Bonnard’s compotiers, scattered here and there through various paintings, sometimes filling a subordinate role, sometimes occupying center stage. It is completely irrational to love an inanimate object that way, even if it is made of blue glass and has little tear-drop patterns around its roller-coaster-wavering rim. The way that things are colored through it! The way it stands so elegant and tall. Crazy, perhaps, but Bonnard was crazy first and infected my brain through his pictures.
Last night I wasn’t sleepy. So I stayed up with my compotier and made a series of drawings. Here are the “apples of my eyes.” After making the first, I was just getting warmed up, and I pulled out another sheet to sing another silent verse. The second is a lot like the first. I must have really believed what I drew since the two agree in many parts.
For the third go around, nearing Three O’Clock in the Morning, I was ready for a little change of pace.
A little off topic, but evidently there’s no American way of saying “compotier.” American’s have to do it in as French a manner as they can manage. As an Anglo word, the Brit’s have it all wrapped up. [If you click on the little UK flag at the link, you’ll hear the British pronunciation. Do note, that there’s no little American flag. And the Australians and the Canadians …? What they do with this word is anybody’s guess. Is there an Australian in the house?]
Anyway, I got some nice detail photos of the rim shot moments (hat tip to the late great Paul Squires of Gingatao).
I dare you to find a fish in there. (Regular readers realize that I haven’t gone totally batty.”
No koi, just apples!
And after that it was to bed! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.