Two Rainy Day Rides ... and Art

A street in Carennac

For the past two days, I've been based in Carennac, another beautiful medieval village located on the Dordogne, in the Lot departement. It is a monastery town (as opposed to bastide towns, or hamlets, or cities) which prospered around an 11th century Cluniac Abbey, with its romanesque church. Prospered because it was on the pilgrimage route to Rocamadour, and then, as now, travelers have needs (then particularly for medical care, shelter and food) and spend money. It is now a quiet village, with Renaissance houses, twisting streets, red roofs and lots of art, old and new.

Footpath between houses

Gate remaining in the wall around the church

The work of Gilles Sacksick is hung indoors and out, all around town. I wasn't previously familiar with his work, but it is accessible and enjoyable, with something very strong at its core.

This poster, a different kind of art, reminds me that French rural areas are threatened with some of the same environmental dangers that rural areas in the US face: among them the storage of nuclear waste and fracking. People I talk with here are quite concerned with protecting local agricultural and food production both against direct environmental threats and against the intrusions of factory farming and GMOs. Hopefully, the Europeans (with the French in the lead) will be able to hold off US threats in current international trade talks.

The past two days have both been rainy, so I limited my riding each day to two short excursions, each of about 25 miles. Both days I spent time waiting out downpours, today at a market in St. Céré, where I admired these mushrooms, a specific variety of chanterelles.

The first ridet took me to Rocamdour, a famous pilgrimage site for believers who come here to pay tribute to the black virgin, made famous for miracles at about the time King Henry of France (1st husband of Aliénor of Aquitaine) was miracuously cured of some serious ailment. The troubadors of her court, famous for their poetry, songs, and courtly behavior, made the black Madonna even more famous. Legends abound, and so do pilgrims.

Rocamadour, high on the cliff above the valley below.

Pilgrims, and captives, made the climb to the church on their knees,

A courtyard at the castle at Rocamadour. The building was not open to the public.

The famous, and controversial, statue of the black virgin.

My ride today, about the same distance, but east, not south, had as its goal a visit to Jean Lurçat's residence, now a museum  (the Atelier Musée Jean Lurcat)  featuring his tapestries and documenting his life. And, what a life it was ... friends with Picasso, Neruda, Gide, Cocteau, Léger, etc. He worked with Balanchine, exhibited with Matisse, Picasso, Braque, Derain and Dufy. He left Paris, travelled widely, and eventually bought (about 1941) this little castle at the top of a hill in St. Céré, from which he was an active member of the resistance and an active member of the local community. Born in 1892, as a young man he was a painter, but was involved with tapestry by 1917.  Eventually he completely abandoned painting for tapestry, drawn to its architectural and monumental qualities, wanting to avoid the precious and the petite. He simplified his work, abandoning perspective in favor of flat imagery, much of it featuring the horrors of warfare, and his passionate involvement in the world around him. I was very moved to spend the afternoon in his home, surrounded by artifacts of his life and examples of his work.

Jean Lurcat tapestry

Tapestry detail

Lurcat tapestry

Lurcat tapestry detail

History is never far away in France, my days pass partially embedded, frequently surrounded, by it. Yesterday's ride passed this plaque for two British parachutists during World War II, who parachuted into the field behind it. Lurçat was an active resistor during that war.

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