Letters from Athens

An amusing coincidence

Some years ago, while rooting around an antiques shop in Suffolk, we came upon an amusing little painting of six officers in red coats, seen from the back, with a small dog peeping between their legs. We bought it for the modest sum of, if I remember well, £20, and it is now on the wall of our coatroom.

*I must admit it is a very good copy, down to the last detail*

Sadly, no, it did not turn out to be a mislaid Rembrandt. But imagine my surprise when, visiting an exhibition at our local cultural centre, Les Franciscaines, I saw the original! Which is ten times the size of ours.

The artist is called Félix Philippoteaux (1815-1884) and the painting, The Duke of Orléan’s Gentlemen. It portrays six of the duke’s officers, seen from the back, who were easily recognisable by their contemporaries simply by their height, demeanour and, of course, their distinctive clothing. The men formed the duke’s close entourage and were an essential part of life at court, following him on his travels from château to château.

This anecdote apart, the exhibition was entitled Seen from the back, and contained an interesting mixture of periods and styles, of people painted, or photographed, from the back. This view has been used by many painters over time, to illustrate situations and moods.

See, for example, the wonderful feeling of peace conveyed by the painting below. The shutters have been closed against the midday heat and bright light, giving off a subtle lavender gloom.

*The closed shutters, **Elisabeth Nourse** (1859-1938)*

Workmen were also often portrayed from the back, as in the famous painting by Gustave Caillebotte, Les raboteurs de parquet. Here we have workers in the industry which was the origin of Venice’s wealth: salt, or the “white gold.”

*Les porteurs de sel à Venise, **Bernard de Gironde** (1843-1926)*

In the painting below, we have the crowd looking at a luminous fountain at the 1889 Exposition Universelle, in Paris. Where, as regular readers will remember from a previous post, Rosa Bonheur met and painted Buffalo Bill.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec shared a love of dancers and horse racing with his friend Edgar Degas. This lithography is a masterpiece of mouvement—horse and rider as one in a supreme effort. Notice the interesting and daring viewpoint.

*The Jockey* , **Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec** (1864-1901)

And for something more modern, an oil painting of a nude model by Raoul Dufy.

*The model in the Studio, **Raoul Dufy** (1877-1953)*

Although I cannot say I like it, I include this highly weird, if not downright disturbing, surrealist photo by Joel-Peter Witkin (1939-) It is supposed to be a version of Ingres’s La baigneuse de Valpinçon. The violin holes have been replaced by scars which suggest that a pair of wings have been torn out.The maimed back is an allegory of the loss of liberty.

The exhibition was beautifully curated and featured many other interesting works. As for the Franciscaines itself, it is a stunning cultural centre which hosts regular high-quality exhibitions, concerts, talks and other events. It contains over 30.000 books and films which can be borrowed, has plenty of comfortable nooks and crannies in which to enjoy them on the spot, organises children’s workshops and also has a lovely informal restaurant and a shop with books and gifts.

Above is the central hall, a place usually full of people reading the papers and magazines on offer, kids perusing BDs (bandes dessinées, or comic books and graphic novels which the French adore), even people lounging or having a quick snooze on the sofas.

The place was built in 1875 as an orphanage for the children of men lost at sea. It was run by a Franciscan order of nuns and served as a hospital during the first war. Following various changes, the nuns moved to a new building in 2011 and the place was acquired by the city of Deauville. After major work was done by the brilliant architect Alain Moatti, the object being to put all sorts of cultural objects—be it books, art, music etc—at the reach of the public, it was inaugurated in 2021. It has been a huge success, and I encourage any visitors to Deauville to go and see it.

Publishing update and free gift

I know Regency romance is not to everyone’s taste, so for those of you not interested, you can stop right here.

Publishing is a steep learning curve. It is frustrating, slow, but also interesting and fun. In my search for information and improvement, I have joined the Authors Guild of America, where there is a very active and varied community of authors, all connecting and asking for and giving advice to each other. I have learned much from there.

The idea that if you can get an agent to take you on, you are invited to a posh lunch and thereafter everything is done for you has been firmly squashed. Unless you are Margaret Atwood, or a celebrity with a misery memoir to sell (Prince Harry, perhaps?) Stories abound of people being fired by their agents, agents unable to sell to publishers and so on. Even if the publisher acquires your book, nothing is secure. Publishers go out of business, the editor assigned to you leaves and the replacement hates your book, they publish but it does not sell…

Of course, you can always self-publish. But I have always had a niggling feeling that if nobody wants to take on your debut, it is probably not polished enough yet, or not good enough. Once you know the ropes, things will become easier. But self publishing is expensive, unless you are an expert at editing, proofreading, cover design, formatting, etc. Otherwise you have to hire people to do all these things.

And after all that, once your book is actually on the market (drum roll!) you still have to sell it. Again, unless you are a well-known author guaranteed to sell thousands of book, you can forget about book tours and organised readings paid for by your publisher. Also every single publisher expects you to take an active part in selling your book which, as I have slowly been finding out, consists of the dreaded social media, blog tours, getting your friends to review your book (much harder than expected) and other stratagems, such as paying for Amazon or Facebook ads. And your options depend on where you live—are there book fairs in your vicinity, friendly bookstores or libraries? In my case, none of that is available, since I live in the French countryside and I don’t think I know anyone who reads in English! Luckily there is plenty of advice to be found online.

*Misunderstandings, banter and romance. Read it by joining my Reader’s Club*

I was thrilled when I landed my publisher, Cupid’s Arrow, who are a small indie outfit in San Jose. They are lovely people, but overwhelmed by having to do it all themselves. Communication is slow. Information hard to get. And you mostly have to deal with your own problems. But the printed copies are great, especially the hardback (I was not expecting them to have hardbacks available.) My editor, Lisa, is wonderful.

I am not expecting to make much money out of this, but I do need to sell enough copies so that the publisher will take on the next book in the series. I have therefore applied myself to marketing the (damn) thing.

The Authors Guild provides members with tools to build a simple website for free, and human help where needed (shoutout to Hector, my saviour in hard times.) Within the website, I have set up a Reader’s Club, where subscribers can sign up to get freebies (extra content, short stories etc.) and news of upcoming publications. At the moment I am offering a free short story plus a curated list of books. If interested you can join here

I also set up an Instagram account and try to produce ‘content’ (who knew I would be getting into this at my age—but it’s actually quite fun, once you get around the tech.) The account is called mmontroseauthor Here is a post

I hope you are suitably impressed, and that some of you will join the Reader’s Club and/or take a look at my IG account. If you do, please let me know your thoughts. I always welcome feedback and comments, as you know.

Glen Baxter has left the building

I am a huge fan of cartoons and comic strips and Glen Baxter, who passed away aged 82, was a big favourite.

Glen Baxter created a surreal artistic universe populated by erudite cowboys, tweed-clad empire-builders and malevolent Boy Scouts. His fame was higher outside England where he was considered a modern Surrealist Master. At home he sadly often fell into the funny greeting-cards category.

His drawings relied for their offbeat humour as much on their absurd deadpan captions as on the artfully simplistic drawings.

Often the drawings themselves were offbeat, such as the one featuring a man sawing off his own leg in front of two children, with the caption “Uncle Frank would keep us amused for hours”

Look at the image above: the bottom half of the lady inside the chimney suggests she is stolidly middle-aged, while the ‘husband’ looks like a teenager in his shorts. Can’t you imagine Baxter sitting at his work table thinking up all this nonsense? Not a bad day job…

Some images would depend for their effect wholly on the caption: two co-habitees glowering at each other: “The tension at No 83 had been almost unbearable ever since Eric had deliberately swallowed Toby’s anorak.”

Baxter was inspired by pulp fiction and old adventure comics which he combined with literary nonsense. The delightfully old-fashioned pictures depict incongruous characters such as cowboys, explorers and Boy Scouts uttering intellectual statements regarding art and philosophy.

This is probably not to everyone’s taste, but I love his work. And for those interested, here is a fun interview about his life and aspirations.

Interview with Glen Baxter

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter to all those who celebrate today (Greek Easter is next week.) Here’s an Easter Bunny to cheer you up.

And don’t we all cheering up. Reading the news this morning, I was appalled again. I ask, is an American life worth more than an Iranian, Ukrainian, Haitian, (etc, you get my drift) one?

Every time there is a missile or drone strike, civilians die. Or loose their loved ones. Or their homes. While, let’s face it, others enrich themselves.

Little big boys should stop playing with their guns.

So on this day, let me wish for Peace on Earth.

The year of the Fire Horse

On February 17, 2026, we officially entered the Year of the Fire Horse. In Chinese astrology, because the elements rotate alongside the animal signs of the Zodiac, the same combination returns only every 60 years. The Fire Horse is associated with intense momentum, restlessness and catalytic change. Well, one only has to read the news to realise that.

In honour of this, and to give it a more positive dimension, I decided to write about the horse in art. The horse has carried human civilisation upon its back: it has provided transport and entertainment, been a vehicle of agriculture and battle, a beloved and trusted companion, a spiritual presence and a symbol. As such, it has been depicted in art throughout the ages, in almost every culture.

It would take many volumes to include all, or most, representations of the horse in art. I will restrain myself, therefore, to some of my favourites, starting in prehistoric times.

Stone Age occupants of Europe had a strange fixation on horses. Almost one in every three animals they depicted on cave walls was a horse. However, the reason why the horse loomed so large in ancient minds may remain forever a mystery.

Some of the most famous cave paintings (but there are many, all over the world) are the those in the Lascaux network of caves in the Dordogne region of France. They are estimated to be roughly 17,000 years old.

Of course, horses could not be absent from Ancient Greek art, since they play a prominent part in mythology and history, from the flying horse, Pegasus, to Bucephalus, the beloved mount and companion of Alexander the Great. They figured in vases and plates, like the one below:

*Horses’ heads*, *Corinthian black-figure plate, 600-575 BC*

As well as in sculpture and bas-relief, such as the famous Parthenon frieze.

The other famous horses that date from classical antiquity, perhaps originally from Constantinople, where they were displayed for many years, are the Horses of Saint Mark.

Situated atop the Loggia of Saint Mark’s Basilica in Venice, these were originally part of a monument depicting a ‘quadriga’ – a four-horse carriage used for chariot racing in antiquity, used in the ancient Olympic games or depicted as the ‘Chariot of the Gods’ ridden by Apollo across the heavens.

The horse was also revered and commemorated in China, in pottery and glazed statues as well as scrolls.

Unidentified
After Qian Feng Chinese
dated 1793

Coming to modern times, one of the most famous equestrian artists is certainly George Stubbs (1724-1806). He was self-taught and had an obsessive interest in anatomy.

In 1758, Stubbs rented a farmhouse in Lincolnshire and spent 18 months studying dead horses. Gruesomely stringing the carcasses up on a system of pulleys, he injected their veins with wax to give them a lifelike appearance and proceeded to systematically study them in different positions, stripping off each layer of the body.

Stubbs made many wonderful paintings, but arguably his masterpiece is a life-size portrait of the horse Whistlejacket, (c. 1762), commissioned by his owner, the Marquess of Rockinham.

George Stubbs, *Whistlejacket*, c. 1762, National Gallery, London, UK.

Another wonderful painter of animals was Rosa Bonheur, who was inspired by George Stubbs and Eugène Delacroix but also by Ancient Greek sculpture. Her most famous work is The Horse Fair, but I love the portrait below, of William F. Cody, alias Buffalo Bill, whom she met and befriended at his Wild Est Show, held on the lawns of Neuilly during the Exposition Universelle.

To paint the Horse Fair, which shows the horse market held on the Boulevard de l’Hôpital, Paris, Bonheur sketched there twice a week for a year and a half.

Another of my favourite paintings is At the Races in the Countryside (1869) by Edgar Degas, which focuses on a young, upper-class family at the races. It is a wonderful offset composition, relegating the race itself to the background.

And of course I cannot fail to mention Alfred Munnings, who was enraptured by horse racing for his entire career. The painting below, brimming with excitement and anticipation, is titled Start at Newmarket: Study No. 4, c. 1947

I could go on forever, and might go on in another post, but this is a little taste to celebrate the start of the year of the Fire Horse. Which is your favourite?

Voyages in literature

I always tend to have at least a couple of books on the go, and I choose them depending on my mood. So I must have been in the mood for a saga (in the modern sense of the word) since I plunged simultaneously into two doorstoppers: Americanah, by the Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny, by the Indian writer Kiran Desai (both were written in English.) As I read on, I realised they shared a lot of similarities.

First of all, may I say both of these women are wonderful writers, whose clarity of prose and turn of phrase I much admire. It was very pleasurable immersing myself in their world.

Both books are meant to be, primarily, love stories. From an interview with Kiran Desai:

I wanted to write a story about love and loneliness in the modern world. I wanted to write a present-day romance with an old-fashioned beauty. In the past of my parents, and certainly my grandparents, an Indian love story would mostly be rooted in one community, one class, one religion, and often also one place. But a love story in today’s globalised world would likely wander in so many different directions.

However, the book is about so much more than that—it is about displacement, about identity, about moving to another country and then feeling you don’t belong in either your new home or your old one. It is about race and class distinctions.

Americanah deals with a lot of the same themes, although set in a primarily different background. Again based on a love story at its core, again exploring themes of displacement, race, identity and adapting to a different culture.

Both books are stories of love and expectations in today’s globalised world.

Which book did I prefer? Probably the first, for the simple reason that Ifemelu, the heroine of Americanah, is not a very likeable character. Although bright and self-assured, she often tends to shoot herself in the foot, especially as regards relationships. She can be unpleasant, disdainful and very sure her opinions are the right ones. I did enjoy the descriptions of life in Nigeria, though, a country I know little about.

This brings me to my main criticism of both books: although I understand how both writers became engrossed in the world they created (and I know that Desai worked on her book for years), I thought both books were ultimately too long and could have done with more judicious editing. I know it’s difficult to kill one’s darlings—but there was just too much detail and repetition of the minutiae of daily life, the backstory or subplots, the characters’ thoughts.

I asked myself—did I think this because our attention span has shrunk? I remember devouring long books like A Suitable Boy, by Vikram Seth. Dickens, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Robertson Davies…I read Middlemarch twice. Would I have the patience now? I wonder. If I want to re-read something long nowadays, I usually get the audiobook.

What do you think? Has anyone read one or both of these books? Did you like them? Are they too long? I would be interested to know. Awaiting comments!

Rays of sunshine – J. M. W Turner

Rays of sunshine are not too plentiful this weekend—neither in the weather, because it is persistently drizzling (just enough to soak you after a while,) nor in the absolutely horrendous news. And I do hope none of you has been indulging in a sunny holiday in Dubai, ha ha (sorry about the graveyard humour.)

However, sunshine is to be found in the wonderful paintings of J. M. W Turner, at the joint exhibition with John Constable at Tate Britain.

*Stangate Creek, 1823-1824, watercolour on paper*

Born within a year of each other – Turner in 1775, Constable in 1776 – and both trying to transform landscape painting, the two were great rivals, rather than friends.

Raised in the gritty heart of Georgian London, Turner quickly became a rising star of the art world, beginning his formal training at the Royal Academy Schools aged just 14 and exhibiting there soon after—whereas Constable, the son of a wealthy Suffolk merchant, faced a longer, more arduous rise to acclaim.

I think Constable was a very accomplished, solid artist who funded his life by painting portraits of wealthy people in order to be able to indulge in his great love, landscape painting. The combination of known faces and beloved places makes for an evocative and precious portrait of life in Regency England.

The juxtaposition of these two artists is certainly an interesting one, but may I say at once that in my mind Constable loses by the comparison. The curators cleverly did not place their works next to each other, but gave separate rooms to each.

*The sun rising over water,* 1825-30, *watercolour on paper*

At the time they were exhibiting, Constable had a solid following and favourable reviews, whereas Turner was thought a genius by some, but deranged by others. In our modern consciousness and wider knowledge and appreciation of art, Turner’s paintings are mind-blowing. His treatment of the natural elements, wind, rain, water, clouds, sunrises and sunsets—in fact, all aspects of light and its effects, are unique. Especially the watercolours—the way he moved paint around and scraped paint off in places to achieve the translucent quality of the air around him is astonishing. Watercolour is a very delicate and elusive medium, and mistakes are dearly paid for; but he found it convenient and easy to transport so that he could capture the effects of light on nature live.

*Snow storm – steam boat off a harbour’s mouth. Oil on canvas. This is one of Turner’s most daring paintings.*

Many of the works in the exhibition are from private collections, so the opportunity to see them in person, and in close proximity, was a rare treat.

*York House watergate, Westminster, London. Graphite and watercolour on paper.*

A pale ray of sun

The weather refuses to improve yet, and we are treated to endless rain and waterlogged grass. So I took refuge in poetry, and I would like to share this poem by Louis MacNeice, which evokes the ephemeral pleasures of life. It is lyrical and sad, exploring themes of time, memory and loss.

I particularly like MacNeice’s mastery of the poetic form in the poem’s distinctive rhyme scheme and rhythm. The poet was anxious about the darkening political situation evolving in Europe at the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War and he evokes a sense of impending destruction. The allusions are vague and a modern reader can surely adapt them to his or her own experience.

Detail of JMW Turner’s painting, *The Sun Rising over water (1825-30)*

So, without more ado, here it is.

The Sunlight on the Garden

The sunlight on the garden

Hardens and grows cold,

We cannot cage the minute

Within its nets of gold;

When all is told

We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances

Advances towards its end;

The earth compels, upon it

Sonnets and birds descend;

And soon, my friend,

We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying

Defying the church bells

And every evil iron

Siren and what it tells:

The earth compels,

We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,

Hardened in heart anew,

But glad to have sat under

Thunder and rain with you,

And grateful too

For sunlight on the garden.

Miscellany

While sorting out my camera roll I came upon various photos that I had saved out of interest. I thought I might share some of them.

*Although this print is reproduced on many sites about Venice, I could not find out where to credit it…*

This one in particular fascinated me, especially after our recent trip to Venice.

It shows how the millions of wooden poles upon which the city was built were placed. The wood was transported from surrounding forests via the rivers. It does not rot but, when it comes into contact with the clay mud at the bottom of the lagoon, becomes petrified. The construction process itself is awesome.

19th century carved ivory netsuke depicting a mouse traveller. Netsuke originated in the 17th century, starting as useful accessories for fastening a pouch to a kimono, for example, but evolving into an art form. This one is attributed to Giyokuseki.

I am in awe of this simple drawing of a glass (pencil on paper). By the Spanish artist Isabel Quintanilla (1938-2017)

An astonishing Roman marble bas-relief, depicting a midwife assisting a woman having a baby. I have never seen anything like it before, and I think it is lovely. What a feat, to convey such an atmosphere of serenity in stone.

I could not resist adding a couple of cartoons I had also saved, because what’s life worth without a good laugh? The one below is from the New Yorker.

The ANIMA sculpture garden

On Throwback Thursday I thought I’d post something I started writing some time ago after a trip to Morocco, but for some reason I never finished. It was a beautiful place, and the photos brought back nice memories.

Not far from the Marrakech medina and overlooked by the majestic, snow-capped Atlas Mountains, there is a magical garden combining art with a profusion of beautifully planted trees, bushes and flowers of all kinds.

The garden is laid out with paths meandering through the vegetation and interspersed with astonishing sculptures by various artists, some very well known.

Here’s one by Keith Haring below:

The place has the most unusual vibe: it is at once peaceful, joyful and alive.

The garden is the creation of acclaimed Austrian artist Franz André Heller. Here’s a short bio from the Anima site:

André Heller was born in Vienna in 1947. He’s among the world’s most influential and successful multi-media artists.

His achievements encompass garden artwork, chambers of wonder, prose publications and processions including a revival of circus and vaudeville, selling millions of records as a chansonnier of his own songs, amazing flying and swimming sculptures, the avant-garde amusement park Luna Luna, films, fire spectacles, and labyrinths as well as stage plays and shows that have entertained audiences from Broadway to the Vienna Burgtheater, from India to China, and from South America to Africa.

André Heller lives in Vienna, Marrakesh, and on the road.

There is a lovely café in the garden, named after writer Paul Bowles,and plenty of hidden benches where people sat reading or just soaking in the atmosphere. There are even a couple of colourful striped hammocks where you can lie in the dappled shade.

A very well-dressed gentleman, above.

My absolute favourite was an alley lined with stone columns, each with a carved animal upon it.

Each more charming than the next.

My one caveat is that there are no identifying labels anywhere, so there is no way of knowing who the artist is, unless they are universally recognisable, like Picasso or Rodin.

So if anyone recognises the artist who made these delightful animals, please let me know.

This visit was one of the highlights of a short break in Morocco, and is most highly recommended, should you be somewhere in the vicinity.