Watercolor – Black stone – 6,10 x 8,66 inch – Unique work

I got up this morning and you were there, in the back of my mind, melancholy. My childhood flashed before my eyes. Eventually, part of my childhood, a tiny, tiny part, moreover. I’d rather forget the rest of it. It was summer, I remember. In Scotland, such a rough country and warm too. The evenings, hidden in a corner of a cozy pub. The huge glasses of beer, the hot and alcoholic atmosphere of the locals. I was impressed by these raucous and rolling accents. I never catched a word but I loved listening. I was rocked by this unknown language.

And then later on, I had grown up a little, I was still in the highlands. These specific landscapes, sad and gloomy in rainy weather (most of the time) but shiny and fairy by bright sunshine. The North Sea is icy but royal. The centuries-old mountains are authentic remnants remaining on our devastated planet. I liked walking among the peat bogs, the heather and the sheeps. In a small town in the middle of nowhere, I loved listening to the bagpipes playing sounds half violin, half screaming cats at night. And even today, an unchanged feeling takes possession of me whenever I hear the first notes of Amazing Grace and other Scottish classics.

And then a little more later on, I reached the age of drinking alcohol in pubs. I could order at the counter like an adult and enjoy a sweet sherry, my favorite aperitif. Not easy to find some in France but I have my own sources! Every time I go back it’s like a pilgrimage, like a homecoming, as if … After all, why not, what do we really know about genetics? So many dark and unexplained points, so many secrets about our origins, at least as fr as I’m concerned, that’s true.

When I look at this view … I remember and I think, in English, about all these moments one on one between this sweet country and myself, between these strong-hearted men and their wives dancing the Slosh together. And even sipping my sherry alone in my living room in Gleneagles Crystal glasses with an engraved thistle, offered a long time ago by Scottish friends for my wedding. Melancholy, melancholy, when you hold me …