Inspired by Albert Anker (1831-1910) – Still nature with coffee and brandy glass (around 1870-1880) – Oil on canvas – 12,99 x 18,11 inch

That’s how it goes in the « greater world ». anyways, at my parents’ place, when they have friends or acquaintances for dinner, all from the British aristocracy. « The high society », as my father always says when he takes this inspired look on his face, his eyes half-closed and his chin slightly raised, “the one and truely”, he end s up the discussion which appears to be more like a monologue than a dialogue.As soon as I could move on my own, even crawling, I spied on the back and forth from the top of the bars of the stairs leading to the rooms, at the top, on the second floor. Women, with pinky cheeks, went into a boudoir-themed room to powder their noses and paint their lips and eventually came back to the dining room all excited. Men, as for them, had left the place to enjoy a glass of brandy and smoke a good cigar brought from over there in a small lounge-study built exclusively for my father and his popular evening sessions. Smoke escaped from the bottom of the door and embalmed all the other rooms of the house.

The next morning, a pungent and nauseous smell persisted in invading the house, which made me sick. And each time, a nasty and rude comment greeted me at the family breakfast table, when I was already a teenager and less inclined to hide my deseases. As for a family, my mother was never there those mornings, pretending, perhaps rightly, a dreadful headache, while my older sister had deserted since the day before to invade her best friend’s bedroom, living in the same neighborhood. Just her father, his eyes red with smoke and alcohol, did me the honor, or rather, the dishonor of his presence.

During that time, I will take with me the tremendous crystal carafe filled with this golden and sweet liquid and the peculiar little glass used on these occasions only. And I will also add the coffee cup and coffee pot, legacy of my paternal great-grandmother. And last but not least, the sugar bowl and the milk jug found at an antique shop in Portobello Road. These few items rocked my childhood and haunted my mind my whole life. I can still see this ruby blood escaping from the closed door with the smoke.