Being tourists in our own city

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As I write today, a black and white postcard of a photo by Brassaï showing a misty scene of Montmartre in the 30s, sits on my desk, a souvenir from the exhibition we visited Sunday at the FOAM museum. I hope it will inspire me to practice getting more of those atmospheric black and white shots, a challenge to play more with light.

As for colourful inspiration, we also had the chance to dive deeper into amazing art by Van Gogh, Millet and many others, exploring that quiet part of the museum at our own pace, without jostling crowds of tourists to soak up the bright colour palettes.

I am grateful for a great weekend spent being tourists in our own city with my Mum and Walter, filling our well of inspiration and of course we enjoyed many good meals, a wonderful classical concert and fun chats together.

When the well goes dry

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Sometimes ideas about what to write here come seemingly out of nowhere, and I list them sacredly in my Little Prince moleskine notebook to return to when I’m out of inspiration. Some days, the photos lead me to the content of the text. On others, I’m processing events from day to day life and writing helps to bring clarity on how I feel.

But today I’ve got nothing! Or to be more exact, I’ve been channeling what I have to my weekly assignment for the creative writing course I’m taking.  It seems that while toiling on those two double-spaced A4 pages of fiction that need to be ready by tomorrow, I must have emptied the well, pulling up more buckets of ideas and energy than my brain had time to refill.

So today I leave you simply with this picture, taken after a rain-shower during one of my walks in the neighbourhood last Autumn. I hope that many drops of water, gleaned from everyday observations and rest (and a still-to-be-planned Artist Date), will fill my inspiration well again soon:)