I am back from France!

I spent the last month in a hilly old medieval town about 2 hours southwest by train from Paris. It is close to the Loire Valley and the Chateau Country.
I shared a two bedroom apartment on the 2nd floor with Patricia, another artist from Bonita Springs, Florida. The apartment was located in an old mansion in historic center (ok historic block) of the tiny village of Argenton –Chateau. The view from my bedroom was spectacular and overlooked the river and the hills out toward the Loire Valley (Lucky me). The air was fresh and clean even if a little smelly from the sheep and cows. I got used waking up to the sounds of baying, mooing and crowing. I think I miss the parfum of eau de manure. Really.

Outside my window each morning, Fred and Ethel, the local birds would coo and hunt for seeds and insects in the grass. The students downstairs would leave old bread crumbs as a snack for them.

In our dilapidated but charming manse, was our laundry room and paint sink for the house, three levels down in a dungeon that Frankenstein could call home. It was also the only way to access the backyard and I could not wait a month for laundry. I would gather up my courage put on my running shoes, hold my breath and either run down the stairs to the outdoors or run back up fast with my laundry.

The honorary mayor, of the village, Freepon, lived about a half mile up and down very steep hills, across the river and over the bridge. Each evening, my roommate and I would take a walk after class and take a long a few carrots to feed the mayor. Freepon is about 6 feet high, hairy, has big ears and probably has not had a bath in years. As he sees you approach he begins to hee and haw so loud it echoes through the town. He even has his own website and is famous in his way.

Each morning we would head to the Bakery and get fresh pain (bread) or crossiants and stop in at the Bar de Sport for coffee and the only TV in town. Teresa and her husband, only known as Monsieur were friendly and welcoming. We had fun trying to communicate and laughing at my French and us at their English. In the end, we got our café angles or café crème (coffee ), the French Today show and they got an English lesson. They were generous and curious about Americans and I will not forget their kindness.

We shopped for groceries at a place called THE SHOPI, it was our only entertainment without driving a half hour to the superstore. We loved the SHOPI especially because of “Petite Billy”, the best goat cheese known to man (ok the best to me and Particia). THE SHOPI was major entertainment, since it was everything French, from goat cheese, moldy chesse, stinky cheese, fresh snails and duck liver side by side the grocery case, to the most amazing amount of pork products I have ever seen. I did not know pork came in so many varieties, most of which I could not bear to look at. THE SHOPI sold cheap clothes, wine, videos, meat and vegetables all in about 1000 square feet. A miracle of organization. On Sunday, we would all rush THE SHOPI before noon because, that was when the town rolled up its streets, shuttered its windows for the day. No food, no wine no noise till Monday.

Sunday is traditionally, the family day in France and it is a revered day, where everyone spends the day with family at a park or at home or a restaurant. The French are very particular about their holidays, it is a right and there are no exceptions. So France is closed a lot. A meal on Sunday will last 3 to four hours. It is expected you will keep at the table talking and eating until the early evening. Even in restaurants. Some of the best meals I had were at Sunday dinner in great restaurants and with good company. My husband, Jim and I spent a lovely Sunday with another artist and his wife, tasting wine at various wineries nearby and having a three hour meal on the water in the beautiful town of Clisson, know for its Muscadet wine. We met the wine masters who were friendly and generous with the wine and the stories. Yes, mostly it was in French but we mutt led along and one of our friends spoke French fluently. I had a headache the next day.

I spent a lot of my time painting two portraits over and over. By the time I was done, I knew every nook and cranny of our model Rachel. If I got it wrong, I just kept working on the same old portrait till it looked right. I had a breakthrough about the end of week two, it was fantastic. Think victory dance in the middle of the studio.

My evening walks with my Patricia and others were very special, the sun did not set until 9:00 pm and 9:30 by the time I left. Watching spring come day by day was glorious, we would walk pass the apple orchards and everyday they would change, or the wisteria would suddenly pop and the smell would be overwhelming and colors exquisite. As we walked along the road, we saw different types of hawks, herons flying in formation, plump pigeons and robins and lady bugs twice the size of the ones I was used to.
There were these funny looking trees everywhere, that had been cut and were stumped and scary looking. (Yes, I scare easy). I still don’t know what they are but I was told they become very full in the summer and they are all over this part of France.

The architecture in the town was very old and rustic. In the midst of this were of course the 60’s mistakes, mostly store fronts. The town has been abandoned by most businesses in favor of Bressuire about 10 miles away. The result is that people are buying up property in Argenton as country places. In late July and August, every French person heads to the country and cities shut down so a country home is a must. There are winding, alleys and narrow roads throughout Argenton-Chateau, I never tired of looking at the old local church built in the early 11th century, the old town hall, the old houses or the old medieval Bridge on the east side of town while crossing the small river.

The French love their country gardens and they grew to be spectacular by May. Fresh onions, lettuce, radishes and cauliflower. It is very important to the French that all produce is perfect and local (meaning French and not imported). I have never seen such beautiful strawberries (hot house of course). Every Thursday, the farmers market would set up and before class, we would go out and see what goodies we could buy. There was fresh fish, vegetables and flowers. The fish was a little scary, big skinned eels, little skinned eels that looked very much like skinned snake. Snails, (I love but too chicken to cook on my own). Of course, the typical inexpensive clothing and house wares. There are these plain brown, black or dark green skirts that all elderly French ladies wear. Lots of those for sale.

On Saturday nights, the highlight of the town is the Pizza Truck. Yes, a truck that has a kitchen and makes great pizza, the best fresh crust ever. It pays to be in a town that loves food. On Sunday morning, right in front of our house, the oyster truck parked and you could buy fresh oysters. There were a least 5 types to choose from and they opened them right there. We bought some and they were incredible.

My final week, we visited two professional artists studios, one famous, one not at all.

The not so famous artist bought the old school and boy was it a mess. It was 10,000 square feet of money pit. So far, he was living in it as it was. It was cool to tour though, crumbling walls and paint, high on a hill, a great view. A true artist garret. His paintings were of the local landscape, he was quite good and was off to take them to Paris for a show.

The famous artist will remain nameless. He was very generous and invited all of us to his home in a village about 20 minutes away. He was about 75 or so and had lived in this village for 50 years. He is known for these beautiful classical paintings and opened his home to us. What an eccentric place. Every inch, every wall was covered in faux painting and murals in addition to his framed paintings. It was exotic and strange. Many naked goddesses, reproductions on the wall of Venus rising from the sea, cartouches covered every surface. The artist himself was slight and wore a gold Mr. Rogers sweater. There are many tales about him, of which I won’t share.
During our last weekend one of the Students invited us to her house for a party. She and her husband are from the States and eight years ago studied with the famous artist and now live in France eight months of the year. They restored the most fantastic farmhouse and attached barn. Of course, it being France, it took them 8 years to get it done.

By the time the four weeks ended, I was ready to head home on May 4, 2007, I was a little homesick for my family and had to attend Shrimpfest where I was showing my art. Many of my friends stopped by and gave me a hug , it was a whirlwind and jet lag did not set in until Sunday night. I woke up a week later. It was so good to be home.
I am already planning a set of paintings in the fall based on Argenton Chateau and a set of portraits using my new found skills. I am the luckiest girl in the world.

See more pictures at my aol album athttp://pictures.aol.com/galleries/tmpromark. I could not figure out how to put more pictures on this darn blog.

“VENUS AND REFLECTIONS OF LANCEFORD CREEK”



A One Woman Show of Archetypal Representations of the Florida Marsh
Awaits viewers of Mikolean Longacre’s work at AmeliaSanJon Gallery

Five years ago oil painter Mikolean Morgan Longacre took a leap of faith. For 20 years she had been a successful trademark attorney in the Washington, D.C. area. Although always a painter she was only able to focus on painting when she could squeeze in time or a class or two between trials. Longacre and her husband Jim, a patent attorney were living three miles from the D.C. border and commuting everyday to their boutique law firm in Crystal City Virginia. Every holiday for 10 years, the Longacres would visit friends on Amelia Island. Each would longingly look for the day when they could have a house on the water and give up commuting forever.

As fate would have, they were visiting friends one thanksgiving in 2000 and noticed a house on Lanceford Creek off of Amelia Island. It was the view of the Marsh that took both she and Jim’s breath away. Right then, Longacre knew she needed live there and to paint full-time. This property became her muse. By September 2001, she along with her two beloved dogs were waiting for the moving van during the terrible events of September 11 and waiting for Jim to arrive from their office in Crystal City, only one quarter mile from the Pentagon. The events of September 11, 2001 further convinced her that time was right to move and devote herself to study and to painting full-time.


In the course of five years Longacre traveled extensively to study with some of the best classical painters in the United States and Ireland. Now from her studio loft overlooking Lanceford Creek she interprets the marsh in oil. “Everyday, I wake up and think I live in the most beautiful place in the world. The colors change continuously, the marsh is always different in color and feeling. The colors are exquisite and different everyday.” she exclaims.

Longacre begins each painting on toned oil linens consistent with her training as a classical painter. During the course of her day, she studies the marsh, jots down sketches and sometimes takes photographs. Once a sketch has been chosen, she then works on picking the right colors to express the specific mood of the marsh. “I love color and with color you can convey a mood. Moreover, color engages the viewer and allows the viewer participate in the painting, which is my ultimate goal.”





Longacre says her work her work is about change. “We live in a world that is continuously in flux, and in which change is the only constant. Our friends change, we change. Tomorrow will be different from today. We as humans are in a continuous march toward the ultimate change, which is death”. Longacre sees change as a necessary and positive part of life. This is one of the reasons that the nightly setting of the sun has always been fascinating, to her “because we know intuitively that what we see will be gone in an instant and never ever reappear. The colors, the lights, the emerging stars, even the sun itself are continuously in motion. The sunset also is about a transition – from day to night, from birth to death, from a palette of colors to the black of night, from the fiery sky of day to the star studded curtain of night.”

Longacre places somewhere in every painting a light, representing Venus, the evening star, sometimes bright, sometimes dim. Sometimes almost lost in color, sometimes standing out. To her this simply deepens the illusion of permanence. Venus appears to be a constant, but it is just as dynamic as the other elements in the paintings.




The Florida Marsh is not Longacre’s only subject. She is intrigued by the figure and the figure as part of the Landscape and plans a future series of paintings incorporating the figure in her beloved marsh. For her landscapes she takes her inspiration from the 19th century Luminist and Hudson River School of Fredrick Church, George Inness. She is also inspired present day masters Sawada, P.A. Nisbet and Mikel Wintermantel.

Longacre studied at the Maryland School of Art and Design in 1994. Since 2001 she has studied intensively with Johnnie Liliedahl in Houston Texas; Robert A. Johnson of Virginia both accomplished masters of the traditional classical school of painting. Also, with Luminist painter Mikel Winternmantel of Massachusetts and recently with famed portrait painter Anthony J. Ryder in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Venus and Reflections of Lanceford Creek”, featuring new paintings by Mikolean M. Longacre are scheduled at the Amelia SanJon Gallery, 218A, Ash Street, Amelia Island Florida, 904/491-8040, October 7-December 31, 2006. A public reception is scheduled for October 7 from 5:30pm-9:00 pm.

Please see my new website at www.mikoleanlongacre.com