Sheilaclapkin's Blog;

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I was asked to take a walk with Degas and what would I say? I would say, Good Morning. Good Afternoon and Good Evening according to the time of day. My head would be pounding and sweat would be roaring inside my shirt. My heart would not slow down and my blood would be pounding under the stress. My eyes would temporarily blur and I would be asking myself about what pill I should have taken before the walk to lessen the pain of needing to be on target.

I needn’t have worried. Edgar was the quintessential French gentleman.

He talked about the environment in which we walked and then, knowing instinctively what I would have asked if I hadn’t swallowed nervously, producing horrendous coughing, he asked me why I thought he painted so many dancers and so many ballerina paintings? I told him I think he totally adored the beauty and grace of the dance, the elegance of the dancing positions, and the beauty held in the dancing body. He smiled and nodded. I told him I was a dancer, a little ballerina, but my boobs got to big and I looked top heavy and ready to fall over with each step I took. Soon thereafter, I was told to pursue another form of expression. He chuckled and chuckled.

On we walked. I told him I couldn’t draw a straight line if I wanted to and he told me that all he did was draw straight lines for half of his life until he moved to New Orleans, Louisiana. He said he finally found the dynamics of his capacity upon moving back to France.

I asked a question finally. Said I, ‘How would you describe how you come upon a subject to paint?” He said, “What I do is the result of reflection and of the study of the great masters of inspiration, spontaneity, temperament, I know nothing more to say.”

We moved along to a salon where some of his paintings were on display showing his different periods and styles. I asked him what he thought as he stood here viewing his work and he answered with a smile and a couple of pats on my back.

I am awake now.