Pont-Aven

Tom's birthday was gray and drizzly in Brittany, although the temperature was mild. Friend Pat could not join us as planned -- who knew you needed a passport to take a ferry from England to France?

But it was probably just as well, since Tom succumbed to a bad cold Friday morning, and did not shake it enough for even an easy outing until Monday. Monday's outing was planned to be an easy one, so as not to overdo. We went to Pont-Aven, one of the most famous artist colonies in history, favored by all the biggies -- Cezanne, Gauguin, Pisarro -- you name it, they were either all there, or passed through.

All except Van Gogh, from what I have been reading in The Yellow House by Martin Gayford, about the handful of months spent a house in Arles by Van Gogh and Gauguin. He points out that at this time trains were operating all over France, so artists would write each other almost every day from different parts of the country, describing canvasses, and generally carrying on the philosophical and practical discussions they had in Paris coffee houses. Not only that -- they even sent canvasses back and forth, to share their work! So there is much correspondence about what each was doing and where -- and much of the work and many of the artists favored Pont-Aven.

It is a very attractive little village, cut by a river. Apparently part of its charm were the 9 mills along the river, providing a lot of subject matter for artists. As we walked through -- another gray and drizzly day -- we could see artists on the opposite side of the river working on this and that. There are tours to take artists to the exact spots of various masterpieces.

now the town is given over to tourists, so we wonder whether the tourists came because the village is charming and pretty, or is the village charming and pretty to attract the tourists? Either way, we enjoyed the visit.

We started, of course, with lunch, which for Tom was oysters and a small steak. For me it was coquillages cruistiant -- crusty shells, which turned out to be a variety of shellfish seasoned and covered with a breadcrumb topping. several kinds of clams, a few limpets, mussels and a scallop. Lovely.

We then walked through the Musee de Beaux Arts, just the right size for a museum, and bristling with no photo signs. There were a few lowest quality Gauguins, and some local artists, but everything of any value or artistic importance has long since been whisked away to Paris or some rich guy's living room. But there was a series of studies of the town which showed it in earlier days -- still charming and pretty.




Things don;t change here much -- the billboard for local businesses is made of tiles.

Following our walk back to the car we took a drive around the countryside looking at a couple of other small ports, noticing the thatched houses here and there, then made our way back home for a restful evening.