{"id":914,"date":"2021-02-12T21:31:35","date_gmt":"2021-02-12T21:31:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/claudeasimard.com\/?page_id=914"},"modified":"2021-03-04T21:12:19","modified_gmt":"2021-03-04T21:12:19","slug":"the-studio","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/claudeasimard.com\/en\/the-studio\/","title":{"rendered":"The Studio"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/span>
<\/div><\/div><\/div>
  • <\/span><\/li>
  • <\/span><\/li>
  • <\/span><\/li>
  • <\/span><\/li>
  • <\/span><\/li>
  • <\/span><\/li><\/ul><\/div>
    <\/div><\/div><\/div>

    The studio<\/h2>\n

    I used to think home was a unique place in space and time. A building. A house. And a garden around it. And certainly s house and a garden around it remains a great source of inspiration for me.<\/p>\n

    After years of traveling, I realized that home was what you make of the place where you are. Any place where you are. A bouquet of tulips my wife brings from the flower market to our hotel room. A bistro in Paris when I sip \u201cun caf\u00e9\u201d with old friends. Charles Aznavour signing \u00bb \u00c0 Paris au mois d\u2019ao\u00fbt \u00bb on the iPod to anywhere. Home is wherever I sit with pen and paper. Scrible. scrible\u2026<\/p>\n

    In summer, I leave the door and the windows wide-open. Bees fly in for a visit and never stay very long. If the weather gets really nice, I set the easel on the porch overlooking the stream that comes down from the mountain. And I paint house a house, a home I found in Provence and irises from my neighbour\u2019s garden. The dog Flanelle sits next to me for a moment, then disappears for an hour. He returns soaking wet from a dip in the lake.<\/p>\n<\/div>

    <\/div><\/div><\/div>
    <\/span>

    Autobiographical Painting
    \nLa muse 2009 12,24<\/p>\n<\/div>

    <\/div><\/div><\/div>
    <\/span>

    Autobiographical Painting
    \nL\u2019atelier proven\u00e7al 2010, 40,60<\/p>\n<\/div>

    <\/div><\/div><\/div>