Carrières de Lumières

A famous image of Provence shows bright purple rows of lavender leading to the solid but elegant mass of a timeless Romanesque abbey, Senanque, near Gordes. We saved our visit there until the end of our trip in hopes that the lavender would be in bloom; sadly such was not quite the case.

We arrived ahead of most of the tour buses, zipped on our pantlegs to follow the rules of decorum and wandered through the graceful simplicity of the 700-year-old dortoir, cloister, refectory, warming room, chancel and nave.

While Maurice sketched, I walked to the other side of the abbey to see the monks’ vegetable garden (and their laundry), then did some quick shopping in the beautiful gift shop where I wished there were more books in English. The crowds had picked up considerably by the time we left.

We had heard such raves from the other artists in our group about the art installation in the ancient quarries at Les-Baux-de-Provence that Maurice (even though he’s sure we wouldn’t have enough time to pack) agreed to go see it, all the way back to Saint Remy and beyond, but he said we absolutely were not climbing around the village and the chateau in the heat (ok!). The Carrières de Lumières were amazing. The refreshingly cool and dark space, quarried into columns, slopes and levels millenia ago, was lit all around with projected artworks from Bosch, Brueghel and Arcimboldo, dazzling and changing, filling the space with their enormity and accompanied by classic musical compositions. The floor disconcertingly shimmered and rippled with color and design (and it wasn’t flat or level in the first place).

Sometimes parts of the paintings moved–an arm waved back and forth, a leg kicked, a door opened. Superimposed details floated by as soprano voices soared. Fish swam and birds flew and Bosch’s perverse people contorted on clouds of light. Vivaldi pulsed while Arcimboldo’s giant plump fruited faces stared into our own. Brueghel’s cheerful villagers butchered hogs and served soup and slipped through falling winter snow. In the dappled light there was Jesus born and crucified again while nuns kept watch and a ragged hermit pondered and bizarre glowing figures climbed the stairway to heaven with Led Zeppelin. Amazing, and definitely worth the time and trouble to go see.

Our Provençal garden

I sat at the patio table in our high-hedged garden, the air close, sweat on my skin in thick Van Gogh swirls. It was somewhat cooler inside but I wanted to be in the Provençal air. The big tree shading me dropped heavy flower pods with regularity; we were used to it now. Maurice had made us tall glasses of calimocho on ice which we were enjoying along with a final treat from our daily trips to the boulangerie. The heat was distilling the essence of Provence and I wanted to immerse myself in it one more time. I didn’t smell wild rosemary and thyme right then but they had scented the days, as had vibrant tropical flowers and ripe apricots and the long plastic-encased greenhouses across the road bursting with fat fragrant peppers. Dusky mounds of lavender hinted at an amethyst summer; precocious purple spikes of bloom already appeared everywhere. The chill of cut stones and strength of imperturbable arches gave witness to patient and faithful lives of another age. Our Michelin map was now shredded, but Maurice had mastered the the narrow départementale roads with his eyeballs calibrated to keep us from dropping into the deep ditches alongside. Above the sweet and beguiling earth Vincent’s concentric whorls of white heat beat down from the molten sun in the cobalt sky. Through all the richness breathed my Jesus, source of all beauty and truth and goodness. In spite of everything that’s gone wrong in the world because of sin, He fills the creation with delights. Our Lord graciously gave us unworthy servants these Provençal days and walked through them with us.

I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever….
Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom….
On the glorious splendor of your majesty and on your wonderful works I will meditate….
All you have made will praise you, O Lord; your saints will extol you.
They will tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might,
so that all men may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations….
The Lord is righteous in all his ways and loving toward all he has made.
The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth….
My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord.
Let every creature praise his holy name for ever and ever.

(Psalm 145:1, 3, 5, 10-13, 17-18, 21)

Pieta, Van Gogh

Monastery St. Paul, Saint Remy de Provence