by Rolf Kielman

For the past several years, I’ve traveled to south-central France each June to attend a watercolor workshop taught by Vermont painter Robert O’Brien. It’s one of the most rewarding things I do. We paint outside—en plein air, as they say—setting up our easels to capture a variety of views.

A Landscape That Feels Like Home

The region, known as Lot-et-Garonne, is named for two prominent rivers that course through this part of France. The landscape is not unlike that of the back hills of Vermont, with forests and farm meadows meandering up and down gentle hillsides. The region is sparsely populated, and those living in this neighborhood are welcoming and happy to let us paint on their land. Most days end with a glass of Armagnac, a regional aperitif that perfectly caps off the day.

Much of the architecture dates to the 1400s. Bluff-top towns, originally built for defense, dot the landscape, connected by quiet villages and well-manicured farmland. Grape groves and prune trees dominate the terrain, and the area is celebrated for its wine (Cahors) and its prunes (Aren). Fields of bright yellow wheat are punctuated by brilliant swaths of lavender in full bloom. I hope I’m doing justice to the calm beauty of this place.

Life at Canel

We reside for over a week at Canel in Thezac, a stone farmstead constructed around the time Columbus sailed to the Caribbean. Now a charming bed and breakfast, it hosts a dozen guests and is run by a warm Dutch-English couple whose hospitality mirrors the tranquility of the French countryside. Elsbeth, originally from the Netherlands, helps me practice both Dutch and a bit of French. Corrine, the petite French cook, arrives each evening to prepare elegant and tasty meals for our group.

Fortified Beauty: Tournon-d’Agenais

Within view is the bastide town of Tournon-d’Agenais (see above for my sketch). These fortified towns were common in this part of France and served as a kind of defense system during the Hundred Years’ War. Even the farm where we stay is arranged around a central courtyard, originally designed to help protect against the villains and vagabonds who once roamed the countryside.

Tournon-d’Agenais sits high on a bluff, and within its residential walls lies a network of narrow streets that lead to a town square of exquisite proportions. The square, adjacent to the town hall, is lined with indoor-outdoor cafés and restaurants, an easy place to while away the hours when we’re not painting.

The Art of the Day

Of course, the painting class is the main reason we come. Our group includes about a dozen painters of varying abilities, hailing from different countries and states. After one of Elsbeth’s breakfasts, we head out to the day’s location, greet our kind hosts, and set up to paint. Teacher O’Brien typically begins with a demonstration, which often carries us close to lunchtime. We take notes and do quick sketches—like the one below—sampling suggested colors and loosely drawing the day’s subject, often in pen and color-fast ink. All the while, I size up the situation, and my mock trial sketch forms the basis of a larger, more refined piece I’ll work on in the afternoon.

June is warm, and watercolor dries fast—so you work quickly, or else. Our group spreads out across the host’s property, and both Robert and our hosts wander through to check our progress. That can be a little nerve-wracking, especially when our early attempts don’t quite do justice to the beautiful homesteads we’ve been invited to paint. Teacher O’Brien is always kind and constructive. His feedback is thoughtful and well-matched to each painter’s level. He’s a gifted teacher, encouraging, insightful, and generous with his praise.

Monique and the Pigeonnier

As the day winds down, our hosts often ask us to join them for a glass of something local. I like to leave them with a set of my architectural watercolor cards, or sometimes a recent sketch of their home and surroundings, as a small thank you. One of our hosts, Monique, is an exceptional artist in her own right. Now well into her 90s, she lives in a lovely stone farmstead with a pigeonnier—a tower-like structure once used to house pigeons. These tall masonry forms were common in the region and the birds were a source of natural fertilizer and also a dining delicacy for the upper classes. Today, most pigeonniers have been converted into vertical living spaces.

Monique is very proud of her pigeonnier, and it is a favorite subject of mine. I’ve tried for successive years to replicate the structure with some competence. She’s indulged me with a bit of praise, but she’s painted it far better herself, many times. Her home is filled with her artwork, so much so that she stores pieces flat beneath the rugs—a very innovative system.

A Shared Creative Spirit

So it is, we paint outside and often dine outside as well. Our group is fully engaged, and although we’ve only known each other a short while, art acts as a kind of binder. We’re eager to improve, but the setting and the people offer encouragement and admiration. The creative act of painting draws us closer, and we thrill at each other’s successes. I’ve always been drawn to people who make things. There’s a tangible goodness in the way they are in the world. I like these people. Spending a week together in rural France suits me just fine.

Below are several sketch studies from my workbook and on the right a more finished watercolor of Jean Claude’s house in rural Thezac.

Still learning and enjoying what it takes to improve.