Artist in the Margin: My First Visit to Combarel (2000)

In June, 2000 I took a ten-day art trip to an area of southern France just east of Toulouse. Our group of artists stayed at a bed and breakfast and each day travelled into the surrounding countryside to paint the landscapes of the area. Below are two of the paintings I did during the trip. One is the village of Ambialet built on the cliffs of the River Tarn. The other is a valley near the bed and breakfast where we stayed.

One day during the trip I received a call from Anne, a friend of mine from Minneapolis. Anne is originally French but has lived in the United States for nearly 40 years. She happened to be in France at that same time, and she asked if I wanted to meet her sister and brother-in-law. She told me I would be very interested in Pierre, her sister's husband, and that I would love the home that he had created in the French countryside.

Two days later I sat next to Anne as she drove a tiny car -- fast -- around curves and up and down hills and valleys in the land of Aveyron, two hours north of Toulouse. The day was dark and rainy, low clouds hung over the landscape.

Although not that far from Provence and the Mediterranean coast, Aveyron is nearly opposite from the dry, barren brightness of that land along the sea. It is hilly, densely forested with humid stands of hardwood and pine. Purple-gray rock erupts in steep cliffs along the Lot and Aveyron rivers. The same rock builds the walls of the houses and forms the fences running everywhere about the countryside.

In 2000 the fields were growing wheat, large swaths of ochre yellow which complemented the violet colors of the cliffs and stone walls.

We meandered the medieval streets of Villefranche de Rouergue and then were back out in the country. We came to a tiny village, Leonard, drove through a farmyard, three dogs yipping at our heels. Finally we passed a small metal arrow which pointed to a narrow cart road leading into a dense forest. Beneath the arrow was the name "Combarel" ("little hollow"). This was Pierre's home. The car squeezed between the looming walls on either side of us, the purple rocks nearly covered by green moss. Tall trees shadowed the road from the dim sky. The walls closed us in, drew us along the path to an unknown place.

Suddenly there was a face staring at me! A blue face as surprised as I, with its round eyes, long white line of a nose, pursed red lips. The blue face had a tree trunk for body, one branch of the tree protruded from the trunk - a one-armed creature of the forest.

A few moments later we rounded a curve and came upon more of the forest creatures.

Another curve in the road brought us to a dense stand of hardwood forest. I looked into the dark shadows and saw another pair of eyes staring at me.

On the other side of the road, the rock wall widened to take the form of a jagged igloo. These ancient structures can be seen all over this landscape -- shelters for the shepherds of old to spend the night during the cold winters and the rainy summers. They're called "bories."

The rock wall opened up and Anne drove the car into a large clearing. There before me was a house from a Grimm Brothers fairy tale.

Across the clearing from the house was another large structure built from tall slender tree trunks stripped of their bark. This was Pierre's studio. In front of the studio several tall poles held barrel rounds. Suspended within the metal circles were colorful found objects strung together in Calderesque designs.

Pierre came out to greet Anne and me. He's a small, wiry man with prankish eyes and I instantly recognized him as the creator of this magical, mystical land.