The Opal Desert by Di Morrissey Read Free Book Online Page B

Everywhere she looked she saw pictures she wanted to paint. Cobbled streets, quaint bridges, street markets and interesting characters all excited her but when she told Milton he was dismissive.
    â€˜Tourist stuff. Sunday painters. Very unadventurous. You can think of better things to do than that. Start looking at modern ideas, abstracts. In the meantime, we have some entertaining to do. A big gallery curator and agent are in Paris from the Guggenheim. I have to impress them.’
    And so it went. Kerrie was once again caught up in Milton’s world, mixing with the corporate and society art set and any time she’d hoped to have for herself evaporated. But one day she found she had a few spare hours.
    â€˜You haven’t had much time to yourself and I have to spend the morning at the studio workshop. Why don’t you go shopping, darling?’
    â€˜You’re on track with that piece, aren’t you?’
    â€˜It’s coming along, but I get a lot of interruptions what with artists calling in to talk to me and see what I’m doing,’ he said.
    Kerrie smiled. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy that. But yes, darling, I think I will take a stroll. You never know what I might find.’
    Kerrie decided against her initial idea of going to St Germain and went instead to explore other parts of the Left Bank. She made no conscious decision as to which crowded little street to follow but suddenly she found herself outside a fascinating-looking business that announced that it had been established in the late nineteenth century and seemed to have changed little since then. The minute Kerrie saw Sennelier Art Supplies, she knew she had to go in. She closed her eyes in joy as she inhaled the rich smell of oil paints. In utter delight she prowled past the old wooden cabinets filled with every variety of paint.
    â€˜This is an artist’s wonderland,’ she breathed aloud.
    A woman wrapping a parcel smiled at her and spoke in thickly accented English. ‘It is indeed. Artists have been coming here and falling in love with our colours for more than one hundred years. Cézanne, Picasso. And the Sennelier family invented paints and pastels and watercolours especially for them.’
    â€˜Really? How amazing.’ Kerrie studied one cabinet filled with acrylic paints. ‘The depth of luminosity, the richness of the colours, I want to eat them.’
    The shop assistant laughed. ‘Yes, Gustav Sennelier started creating his own paints using raw pigments from minerals and plants and bones, binding them with honey, egg whites, tree gums, and because his colours were so vivid, it changed the way some of the impressionists painted. If an artist wanted a special colour and it didn’t exist, Gustav created one.’
    â€˜What a clever man. It’s a bit like our Australian Aborigines who use natural ochres and other bush materials.’ Kerrie was entranced. Already she held several tubes of paint.
    â€˜The family also invented metal tubes for paint so that painters could work outdoors. And Henri, Gustav’s son, invented the pastel oil stick for Picasso so he could put it straight on any surface.’
    â€˜And look at these watercolours . . . molten rainbows,’ sighed Kerrie.
    â€˜Would you like a basket for your supplies?’ asked the woman as she saw Kerrie selecting a range of colours and paper. ‘You might find the brushes interesting; again, all handmade.’
    Kerrie followed her in a daze, collecting art materials at will.
    â€˜What medium do you prefer?’ asked the assistant, seeing the collection in Kerrie’s basket.
    â€˜I’ve worked in all styles as a student. I’m still experimenting,’ said Kerrie, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she hadn’t progressed past being a student.
    â€˜Where are you studying? Les Beaux-Arts? It is near here.’
    â€˜Unfortunately, no. But my husband is a sculptor and he did