Paris is an old walking city. As you turn the corner of a medieval street and land on a bustling boulevard, you’ll come across a plaque on a wall that states someone who did something great was either born, lived, or died in this apartment. Around another corner, you’ll find another plaque with another fact. Or you’ll take notice of the ornate lamps and discover they all have a consistent nautical theme, which will lead to days of searching for nautical themes around the city. You’ll find them on park benches, schools, and statues.
As I made these little discoveries, I jotted them down in my travel journal. Eventually, these notes included a splash of paint, a few ink splatters from my temperamental fountain pen, and photos. I noticed patterns forming. Certain months had certain hues–pinks for spring, oranges for autumn, and delicate cool blues for winter. I also learned every day was named after a saint, so I began adding their names to the pages. Some days I would focus my camera on one shade of red, which looks alarmingly brilliant against the pale beige background of the architecture. Then I would try to replicate that red in my journal with my little set of watercolors. It was great fun. It still is. Paris is generous to the curious artist.
Often these sketches would lead to the creation of a Paris Letter. These are painted letters I create every month about life in Paris and send out snail-mail style to those who crave fun mail. It’s refreshing to make something tangible in this electronic world.
This travel journal is a replication of my original notebooks. It is a memoir, a guidebook, and ode to ma belle Paris.
Allons-y! Let’s go.