Welcome to my Inner World. I am a French self-taught artist, and these past twenty years I have made Norway my home. Moving to the Lofoten islands was the greatest present I ever made to myself and the Arctic landscapes are indeed a true treat for any artist’s eyes. I live with my British soulmate,… Continue Reading

The Pond



This is the sacred pond by the witch’s house. “They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods” ;-).  The house is alive with all sorts of beings partially hidden in the foliage. Magic is in the air, especially since it’s close to Samhain (Halloween). The witch’s not home, but she posted a sentry, a beautiful Gorgon’s face. I’m sure she’ll come back though the Elvish gate in the distance.

Autumn is my favorite season. I get overwhelmed, entranced by all these vibrant colors, the smells, the lights of the lanterns, the blue hour and the mad, deep and strong magic bathing everything.

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I wish this painting could convey all the smells that arise on a hot summer day when the rain starts falling. These arousing, earthy smells… Also the sounds, this concert of  lapping, splashing and pattering. And the frog’s song. Every zen garden must have a resident frog. There is no more delicious background for a cup of tea (lapsang souchong of course) than rain falling on a zen garden.  A true moment of peace in the green dusky light.

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The Poetess and the Golden Fox



I love foxes, I love the East, China and Japan. And boats. I think it’s the painting I had on my desktop the longest because it is SO cosy! But at the same time with an invitation to possible adventure, represented here by the bridge disappearing into the forest on the right and the stairs on the left. Women, everywhere, are known to have a special relationship with foxes. In Japan and also China, some foxes are shapeshifters, they appear as beautiful bewitching women.  It is also known in Germanic folklore that witches can take the form of a fox.  The fox is considered a very cunning animal all over the world, and in many countries he is a Trickster figure.  Every woman who was wronged by being raised in a dominantly patriarchal society can hear the call of the Trickster. He is shadowy, mysterious, playful and sensual. Tricksters love women. I had a strange dream when I was a child, I “woke up” to see a fox at the foot of my bed, he was talking to me and was so funny because he had trouble pronouncing words, which made him look like a lunatic. He also danced for me, it was entrancing and beautiful. I consider the fox as one of my most potent guardians, along with the mouse and the tiger. It’s no wonder that I ended up choosing as a four legged companion one of the foxiest of all the dogs, the border collie.  This painting is an homage to one of the most dedicated servants of the Soul.


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The Pied Piper


As the Piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its waters
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
However he turned from South to West,
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed;
Great was the joy in every breast.
“He never can cross that mighty top!
He’s forced to let the piping drop,
And we shall see our children stop!”

When, lo, as they reached the mountain’s side,
A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
And the Piper advanced and the children followed,
And when all were in to the very last,
The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
Did I say, all? No! One was lame,
And could not dance the whole way;
And in after years, if you would blame
His sadness, he was used to say,-
“It’s dull in our town since my playmates left!
I can’t forget that I’m bereft
Of all the pleasant sights they see,
Which the Piper also promised me;
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
Joining the town and just at hand,
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,
And flowers put forth a fairer hue,
And everything was strange and new;
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
And honey-bees has lost their stings,
And horses were born with eagles’ wings;
And just as I became assured
My lame foot would be speedily cured,
The music stopped and I stood still,
And found myself outside the Hill,
Left alone against my will,
To go now limping as before,
And never hear of that country more!”
The Pied Piper of Hamelin – Robert Browning
I think he came for me. I don’t remember the dream exactly, but I think I followed him inside the mountain. The piper has a sinister reputation, but sometimes I like sinister.  When I discovered Marilyn Manson, the image of the Pied Piper sprang to mind, and I was thrilled to see him play the pipe on stage in Kinderfelt:

I went through a long period when I dreamed of Manson quite regularly, he was like a guardian angel (which I know must sound funny), a brother, a witch king.

Kinderfelt means children’s cemetery by the way. Brr…

It is not the Pied Piper who kills the children, it’s this soulless codified world that slowly kills the child by controlling him in every way. Disenchanted adults are a deadly poison to children and, as an author I like very much –  Ursula LeGuin – said : “The creative adult is the child who has survived”.


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