The Claude Monet Foundation invited me to be an artist in residence at Monet’s estate in Giverny, France, for three months this summer, with the only stipulation being that I be inspired by these surroundings.
I was a little intimidated, because I’m a cactus-lover who typically inhabits a concrete-walled studio overlooking the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. But upon walking into Monet’s gardens, I was instantly uplifted; my work is about anti-gravity and feminine force and sex, and there’s all that in abundance in the horticultural realm. I follow the team of gardeners as they dead-head the “fleurs fanées,” and collect the ones that are most spectacular. Then I dry them, transfer them to canvas, paper, glass. I’ve also been collecting the purple “ink” that seeps out of the irises when they collapse and have incorporated it into works on paper.
Monet struggled as a person and an artist, but his work is about sublime impressions. These images are cues to creating what I hope will also become a collection of sublime impressions.
No, this is not a backdrop in a downtown restaurant.
A view of my "toile-tastic" chambre.
Even the Diet Coke here is haute couture.
The key to the gardens on a Monet-green fishnet stocking.
Being in Monet's garden is like visiting a planet saturated with color.
The vividness is inescapable!
Crazy-color irises the size of a baby's head.
The better to eat you with, my dear...
Palette for an afternoon of work.
So many pansies could fuel a rocket launch.
Absinthe is "Monet green.”
My flattened "fleurs fanées" for collages, etc.
Lunchtime on the terrace.
French pastry humor.
My humble French country studio!
"Givenchy meets Giverny."
"John Glenn smells the flowers..."
"Brooklyn Bridge suspension system prepares to meet the Pont Neuf."
Mobius fishnet.
Every view of the garden reminds me of a Monet painting. Surreal!
A set, ready for action. Hoping Kembra Pfahler from the Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black will make an appearance here very soon.
Always time to smell the roses.