French Cloudscape Hardcover Journal — Matte Sky Art Notebook for Writing & Reflection

French Cloudscape Hardcover Journal — Matte Sky Art Notebook for Writing & Reflection

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$18.99
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French Cloudscape Hardcover Journal — Matte Sky Art Notebook for Writing & Reflection
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French Cloudscape Hardcover Journal — Matte Sky Art Notebook for Writing & Reflection

$18.99
Sale price  $18.99 Regular price 
Description

The sky over France — over Provence particularly — has been a subject of sustained painterly attention since at least the seventeenth century. It is not the same sky everywhere: the light above the Val d’Oise, pale and diffuse, is entirely different from the midsummer sky of the Luberon, which operates in a register of blue so saturated as to seem almost theatrical. Painters have always known this. The cloudscape on this journal’s cover belongs to that tradition of close looking — a sky recorded at the moment of its greatest interest, when the clouds build and shift and the light between them takes on the quality of something deliberate.

There is a long French tradition of plein air sky study — from the Barbizon painters who worked the forests of Fontainebleau outward to the skies above them, to the Impressionists who understood atmosphere as the real subject of landscape painting. Études de ciel, the studies were called: exercises in attention, in the discipline of observing exactly what one sees rather than what one expects to see. This journal carries that spirit in its cover.

For those who travel to France and find themselves stopping on some provincial road to look up at what the light is doing, this journal will feel immediately right.

A Note from Jeff

I have a particular memory of a late afternoon in the Vaucluse — driving back from the Luberon toward Avignon, the sky doing something extraordinary in the hour before the light changed. The clouds were arranged as if someone had thought about it: a mass of white cumulus trailing into cirrus above a band of the deepest evening blue I have ever seen in France. I pulled over and looked at it for a long time. There was nothing to photograph that would have done it justice.

That moment belongs to a category of French experience that is very hard to describe and very easy to recognize — the landscape asserting itself with a kind of insistence. This journal is, in its modest way, a record of that insistence. It carries the sky forward, into the writing room, where it has no less claim on our attention.

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