Title : A Proud Parent of a Serious Sketcher in La Rochelle
link : A Proud Parent of a Serious Sketcher in La Rochelle
A Proud Parent of a Serious Sketcher in La Rochelle
[By Róisín Curé in La Rochelle, France] My family and I went to La Rochelle on the Atlantic Coast of France at the end of July for a week's holiday. It's a beautiful town, all pale creamy-grey buildings with slate roofs. I planned to sketch while I was there and, ever hopeful, I packed a pad of watercolour paper and a box of paints for my son Paddy, who was 16 at the time.
It was a huge pleasure to sketch alongside Paddy. He's a terrific lad, eternally good-humored and always up for a challenge. We will both remember our daily forays into the town with great fondness: neither Paddy nor I are lie-abeds, so we made the most of time that others spent lounging around indoors (note: I have just been told by my husband that he feels his life will be shortened by my chattiness in the morning. Pearls before swine!)
Here is Honor, my eldest, sketched by me and Paddy. She was not keen on the holiday and she barely left that lovely daybed in the salon.
On our first day Paddy and I drew this lovely lighthouse on the quay of the Vieux Port.
Then I wanted to tackle the massive gates to the port.
Paddy didn't bother sketching on the beach. He was having a spat with his younger sister and the two of them were far too engrossed in exchanging insults to do anything constructive. They are normally very close but siblings don't always live in perfect harmony. The fact that I was sketching helped me to ignore their nonsense, for it was over something ridiculous (a beach towel I think).
Another sketch on my own: a row of people sitting on the quay with their legs dangling over the edge. Paddy was a bit slow leaving the apartment, and I was in the mood to sketch.
This one was a sort of public-service sketch, the public being me: my eldest was letting everyone know how little she wanted to be there with us, so I drew Paddy to take my mind off it. It was better than becoming involved and making things worse. You can see how serene Paddy is, despite ranting going on on the opposite side of the table. But my eldest was missing her boyfriend, and we all know how this can twist like a knife at eighteen. She is very like I was at her age, so I can't really complain. Luckily I can sketch and it all washes over me.
Paddy and I enjoyed this sketch thoroughly. We were in the heart of things, but the tourists filed by across the bridge just behind us, leaving us to our little patch of pretty, creamy stone flags. This is the Bureau du Port and it reminds me of a Hornblower movie, even though I'm vague on the period. Paddy was becoming more confident by now, and was starting to feel the exhilaration of his line going just where he wanted it to go.
For the next sketch, which we did late on evening, we were joined by my youngest, Olivia. I drew the lighthouse and the two kids drew a bit of super graffiti that was on a nearby wall. I can't find Olivia's sketch but she was very proud of the results.
The next evening Paddy and I left the apartment and took to the calm of the crowded, bustling Vieux Port. I drew the big archway and Paddy drew this little motorbike that took his fancy. By this stage he had got the message from me that he should draw whatever he liked the look of, not what he felt he "should" draw. He thought this was fantastic.
Our last morning arrived, and I convinced Paddy and his younger sister Olivia to come out with me before we had to take the bus to the airport. Olivia wasn't too happy with her sketch (she wasn't concentrating as she might) and went off to get an ice cream for them both. In this way they discovered that the pleasures of urban sketching aren't restricted to the drawing bit of it.
So there you have it - a fab holiday. Great food, lovely weather, beautiful scenery, swimming in the Atlantic, sightseeing, superlative sketching...and as for wonderful filial company? Two out of three ain't bad.
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