Showing posts with label Caddy Rowland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caddy Rowland. Show all posts

May 29, 2015

Caddy Rowland - Making History, Bohemian Style (Part 15)

Please welcome back historical fiction author and artist, Caddy Rowland, our (now) quarterly contributor here at Historical Fiction Connection.

Cabaret de l'Enfer

Entrance to Cabaret de l'Enfer

I posted last time about a cabaret in Montmartre where death was the theme. Well, this cabaret took it a step further. It was named Cabaret de l’Enfer (The Cabaret of the Inferno) and was satanically themed. Cabaret de l’Enfer was in the red light district of Montmartre (Pigalle), not far from Moulin Rouge. From the late nineteenth century to the mid-twentieth, patrons could come and drink in hell. This cabaret is very hard to gather much information about, unfortunately. I will tell you what I know. It seemed to have operated for over fifty years, and was located on the Boulevard de Clichy.

The entrance was a large, horrible, fanged open mouth in a gigantic face with eyes blazing crimson. “Enter and be damned. The Evil One awaits you!” was the warning people heard as they entered the hellish nightclub. The chorus of rough voices was enough to make even the bravest man reconsider.

Once inside there were crevices in the walls with molten silver and gold, flames would shoot out of rock clefts, and thick smoke came from smoldering fires in various caverns, smelling of sulfur. Thunder rumbled throughout.

One cauldron over a “fire” had musicians playing various instruments, and if they didn’t play correctly they were prodded by imps holding “red hot” irons. In fact, all servers were red imps. Many carried boiling and smoking beverages to the thirsty, damned patrons.

Most patrons sat at red tables which glowed, then dimmed, only to glow again and again. All orders were screamed out, changing them to frightening ingredients and side-effects. More imps sat on fires or turned somersaults across the floor.


One could even witness a snake transforming into a devil. Of course, Satan was there, heckling all who dared to stay once they had entered. He walked the club in a scarlet robe, adorned with glowing jewels. His sword blazed with fire. He had a black mustache that curled up into sharp points and a sneering grin. His shrieking laugh bounced off the walls, making the place even more leery. He’d accuse women of sending men to hell with their “ways” and condemn others to eternal damnation.


Next door was another cabaret with the theme of Heaven, complete with angels, harps, and clouds. It wasn’t nearly as popular as hell. I wish I had more information to share with you about these two places, as they sound like fun places to visit. Even though the information is sparse, I hope you enjoyed what I was able to share. 

If anyone has more information about either of these two places, I would love to hear from you at caddyauthor@gmail.com.

Historical Fiction by Caddy Rowland: 




Contact and Social Media Info. For Caddy Rowland:

Author Email: caddyauthor@gmail.com
Twitter: @caddyorpims

February 24, 2015

Caddy Rowland - Making History, Bohemian Style (Part 14)

Please welcome back historical fiction author and artist, Caddy Rowland, our monthly contributor here at Historical Fiction Connection.


The nineteenth century in Paris was certainly a strange time. Several themed nightclubs opened up during this century, and a few continued into the early twentieth century. Being from the Twin Cities, MN I am used to seeing themed cafes and bars, since the Mall of America is located here. We’ve had rain forests with live parrots, an African Savanna, a volcano erupting, and Atlantis all featured in cafes with various results.

For the next few guest posts I’m going to share some of the weird-themed establishments in Paris/Montmartre. The first one we will “visit” was named Cabaret du Néant (Tavern of the Dead). Authorities objected to the name, so it was then called Cabaret of Nothingness. Visitors followed a “monk” down a dark hall to enter.

The tables were wooden coffins and were decorated with imitation human skulls. Arranged haphazardly, the room appeared to have been the location of a catastrophe which had only recently occurred. Walls featured guillotines in action, battle images, skulls and bones, skeletons, and mottos about death.


Pallbearers took drink orders and cried out the drinks by calling them names of diseases and ailments. Paintings dissolved before the patron’s eyes, changing figures to skeletons.

Then, while a funeral march played and bells solemnly tolled, the patrons were taken to a second chamber. A volunteer from the audience would step onstage and enter a standing casket. After being wrapped in a white shroud, the crowd was stunned as the volunteer dissolved into a skeleton. Then she/he returned back to their original state. In a third chamber an optical effect showed a spirit walking around yet another random volunteer as they sat at a table onstage.


This particular cabaret and show existed in the 1890’s. There was also one in New York City, I believe at the same time. Not a lot more is known about this cabaret, but I thought it was bizarre enough to share what I do know about it with you.

Who said people were uptight and morally superior in past times? Those who say it haven’t studied history much! In next month’s blog we’ll be traveling to yet another unusually themed cabaret in Montmartre. I’m not going to tell you exactly where we’re going, but I’ll give you a clue: You better dress cool because the place we’re going won’t ever freeze over.

Historical Fiction by Caddy Rowland: 




Contact and Social Media Info. For Caddy Rowland:

Author Email: caddyauthor@gmail.com
Twitter: @caddyorpims

January 15, 2015

Caddy Rowland - Making History, Bohemian Style (Part 13)

Please welcome back historical fiction author and artist, Caddy Rowland, our monthly contributor here at Historical Fiction Connection.


Suzanne Valadon



I bet many of you have noticed I haven’t brought up women artists during any of my posts about nineteenth-century Montmartre. There a very good reason. One had to search high and low to find a female painter during those times. Life was hard for these artists, and would have been even more difficult for a female. Plus, even though Paris was more forward thinking than most of the world in regard to females and their roles, they still were primarily thought of as wanting to be wives and mothers. Anything else they did beforehand tended to be seen as something they did to pass the time until Mr. Right came along.

There were a few, though. Berthe Morisot is considered one of the original impressionists. She was very much part of the inner circle of the great artists of the time. I will perhaps do a post on her later, though. Today I want to talk about Suzanne Valadon. You see, although she was far from perfect, I greatly admire this woman. Here was a female who came from nothing. She struggled her whole life, yet she refused to be put in her place sexually, socially, or in regard to her painting career. Color outside the lines? My dears, for Suzanne there simply were no lines to begin with!

She was the bastard child of a French laundress, and her birth name was born Marie Clementine Valadon born 1865. She was working by age eleven in a milliner’s workshop. From then on she worked at various jobs: waitressing, selling vegetables, and even making funeral wreaths. For an unwed mother life wasn’t easy, and her daughter learned early she’d have to make her own way.

When she became a teenager she made friends with some of the artists in the area. They helped her get a job as an acrobat in the circus. Circuses were big around that time, and many circuses performed around the area. Her circus career didn’t last long, as she fell from a trapeze and hurt her back. She healed, but didn’t work as an acrobat anymore.

Her next job was artist’s model. I mentioned in a previous post how being an artist’s model was only one step above being a whore. It was long hours of sitting still, and then many times satisfying the artist’s sexual needs. Everyone assumed Suzanne had sex with the artists she sat for; as it was common knowledge the artist’s considered sex with the model their right. They were correct in regard to Suzanne. She had affairs with many of the artists she posed for, including Chavannes, Renoir, and Toulouse-Lautrec. As you can see from her photo, she was a beauty. It isn’t hard to understand why these men coveted her sexual attention.

She was also known for being unruly and without restraint. Suzanne would often come home in the early hours of the morning, drunk and screaming obscenities into the night. Sometimes she washed clothes outside while topless. She routinely frequented Au Lapin Agile and Chat Noir, and once slid down a staircase banister completely naked except for a mask at another club.

She became pregnant at eighteen and bore a son: Maurice. He would become a famous painter himself, and was actually the only artist from that era who was born and raised in Montmartre.
She was never sure who Maurice’s father was. People guessed, naming Miguel Utrillo, Renoir, Puvis, or another artist name Boissy. Miguel Utrillo later gave Maurice his name, but no one ever knew if he really was Maurice’s father. Suzanne continued her wild lifestyle and counted on her mother to raise her son. When she did take care of Maurice she would give him whiskey in his bottle to get him to go to sleep. She became a better mother later, but motherhood was not her strong suit.

What made her different from most sleep-arounds was this: Suzanne dared to dream. During this whole time she was studying. She studied the techniques of those she posed for and soon began painting. Degas befriended her in 1890 and took note of her talent. He worked with her, teaching her how to further develop her painting skills. He even bought several of her paintings and got her career started. In fact, because of him she became the first woman to ever show in the prestigious Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts.

Before Degas her work was all pastel or pencil. After working with Degas she began using oils. She did a portrait on Eric Satie, a famous composer. After a very intense affair, he asked her to marry him. She turned him down. Next she became involved even more heavily with a stockbroker named Paul Mousis. She did marry him, which gave her the financial freedom to paint and draw full-time. Her style was full of energy, very frank and raw. She was unfettered in regard to style or technique since she’d had no formal training. However, once they left the city she really struggled to find a balance between being a wife and a painter. Then her son, Maurice, developed alcohol problems (before he was a teenager) and also suffered from mental illness.

At age 44 she met one of her son’s friends. His name was Andre Utter. They had a hot and heavy affair, even though he was only 23. He encouraged her to begin painting more. Once she did, her painting career really took off. “Adam and Eve” was a portrait of herself and Utter. It was the first to show a fully nude couple together done by a woman. Since she wasn’t careful about the affair, her husband found out and they divorced in 1910.


She moved in with Utter, along with her son and continued to paint. She had some shows, but was becoming less noticed than her son and other artists in the area, like Picasso. Utter married her in 1914 before leaving for the war so she could get an allowance from the military. He got injured, and she left to be closer to him. After the war, they came back to Paris. He marketed his, Suzanne’s and Maurice’s work. Maurice sold the most of the three.

Suzanne received positive critical acclaim and had several showings at different galleries, but sales were moderate. She signed a contract with an art gallery in 1914 and had enough money to live comfortably and buy a country estate. She stayed there frequently, painting. Things were blowing up between the three of them, due to jealousy over Maurice’s popularity and Utter’s drinking and womanizing. Suzanne simply continued to paint and had two major retrospectives of her work shown.

In 1935 Maurice married and moved out, and her husband also left, although they never divorced. Her health deteriorated, but she continued to paint and see friends. One day in 1938 she was painting at her easel when she had a stroke. She died only hours later at age 72.

During the later twentieth century there was finally an increased appreciation for women artists, but still—as always—it’s the men that still garner the majority of attention. Those men were great, no doubt about it. They deserve their recognition and I admire them very much.

Still, I can't help but feel as a women myself that part of the reason Suzanne wasn't (and isn't) talked about as much was because she dared to live life as fully as a man during a time when that was deeply frowned upon, even in Montmartre. When she is brought up, her sexual activities are mentioned much more often than her almost 500 paintings (not counting those destroyed or lost). In fact, none of the females that painted during that time are ever discussed as much as their male counterparts and that's unfortunate. Suzanne and others who dared to "paint with the boys" were important contributors to the bohemian art era.

So, today I want to thank Marie Clementine Valadon aka Suzanne. You had balls during a time where having balls made you an outcast, girl. And, by the way, your work ROCKS. Despite your flaws as a mother, I respect you talent and nerve, and hope to do a historical fiction novel featuring you one day. Until then, may you rest in peace, in harmony with “The Color”.

Historical Fiction by Caddy Rowland: 




Contact and Social Media Info. For Caddy Rowland:

Author Email: caddyauthor@gmail.com
Twitter: @caddyorpims

December 10, 2014

Caddy Rowland - Making History, Bohemian Style at Christmas (Part 12)

Please welcome back historical fiction author and artist, Caddy Rowland, our monthly contributor here at Historical Fiction Connection.

Although very little is known about exactly how the artists celebrated Noël (the holiday Americans call Christmas), one has to assume those who were French did as much as they could with what little they had to make Noël special for their families. And, yes, many artists did eventually end up with wives and children. Additionally, it also seems to me those living in Montmartre from other countries may have picked up on the traditions of France, since they were residing there.

Noël is still vastly different than Christmas in the USA in that it isn’t so commercialized. Back then in particular (and still for some French today), it was primarily a religious event. The word Noël comes from the French phrase les bonnes nouvelles, which means “the good news” (the birth of Christ). On the eve, church bells rang out Christmas carols. People filled the cathedrals to attend Noël services with family. Afterward they went home to the most celebrated dinner of the year: Le Rêveillon (to revive or awaken).

Menu’s varied throughout regions of France, but whatever was served, there were many dishes to choose from and plenty of each. Goose, chicken, capon, turkey stuffed with chestnuts, oysters, and boudin blanc (similar to white pudding) were common.


La bûche de Noël (Yule log) is a log-shaped cake made of chocolate and chestnuts. Some areas burned a log in their fireplace from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Day. This dessert was a replica of the Yule log.


Many families would serve a Three Kings Cake with a bean hidden in it. Some had a baby Jesus they used instead of a bean. Whoever found the bean (or baby) in their slice was made King, or Queen, for the day.

The sapin de Noël (Christmas tree) had been introduced in France by 1837, but wasn’t very popular yet. More likely they would have had a crèche similar to a nativity scene (filled with santons little saints). This display was the focus for the celebration. The santons were little clay figures. Not only would a family have figures of the holy family, shepherds and Wiseman, but of French dignitaries and other characters. These figures were cherished and handed down through generations. They are gaily colored and have fine detail to them.


Mistletoe was thought to bring good fortune and was hung around the home for the holiday season. That day the children would go out to look for the Kings, taking gifts of hay for the camels.

Once Le Rêveillon dinner was over, everyone retired. They left a log burning, along with food and drink on the table. These were for the Virgin Mary, in case she stopped by. Children left their shoes out, hoping Pierre Noël (like Santa Claus) would come and fill them with fruit, nuts, candy, and maybe a small toy. Some people also told children there was a Père Fouettard who would dole out spankings to naughty children. If the artist’s were from Northern France, they probably gave their children these gifts on December 6th, instead, as that was St. Nicholas Day in Northern France. Adults did not exchange gifts during this holy time. Instead, they waited to exchange gifts on New Year ’s Day. These gifts were seldom lavish. Each person gave their adult family members one small gift, even in households where money wasn’t an issue. Nor did they buy for every family member. It was for immediate family only.

One can see the celebration of family and their belief system was the heart of this celebration, with materialism taking a back seat—if showing up at all. The food was the only excess they indulged in during this highly awaited celebration.

One has to wonder how meager some of the tables looked in artists homes. However, with family and/or friends even the most meager of meals can be a celebration when love and kinship is freely given and accepted.

And now I would like to wish each of you a:

 

Joyeux Noël

See you next year!


Historical Fiction by Caddy Rowland: 




Contact and Social Media Info. For Caddy Rowland:

Author Email: caddyauthor@gmail.com
Twitter: @caddyorpims

November 21, 2014

Caddy Rowland - Making History, Bohemian Style (Part 11)

Please welcome back historical fiction author and artist, Caddy Rowland, our monthly contributor here at Historical Fiction Connection.

Le Bateau-Lavoir

For the last several months I’ve (hopefully) entertained and educated you about the art scene in Paris during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. We’ve talked about what Impressionism is, how it happened, where the artist’s hung out, where they bought supplies, and where they painted. I’m a painter myself, and many times I find myself fantasizing about how cool it would have been to have lived and painted during those crazy times. I’m sure they did have a lot of fun. But, as I’ve mentioned, most of the time they struggled. I’d like to say things have changed for artists today, but they still struggle to put food on the table and a roof over their head. It seems everyone would love to own original oil—for twenty-five dollars! :)

Back then so many artists went without food and decent places to live that I believe perhaps this is where the term “starving artist” came from. As you now know, Au Lapin Agile fed artists soup at the end of the night. Other times, when an artist sold a painting or was lucky enough to receive money from a concerned relative, they often used their newly acquired “money” to buy enough food for all of their friends to join them in a meal. Commune living at its finest!

Finding a place to live wasn’t easy, either. Only a few decades earlier they had been at least guaranteed a warm room and food from the wealthy families who hired them to paint family history. Now, part of the price for artistic freedom was finding a place to live they could actually afford. Trust me; most of these artists didn't have fancy studios or apartments. Some eventually ended up wealthy and successful, but not without first living hand to mouth. Renoir, Degas, and Picasso all ended up famous and wealthy, along with a few others. These men had lovely homes and gardens in their later years. One of these, Picasso, was a rare exception. Although Picasso did live in the tenements that were called artist's quarters when he first arrived in Paris, but he became famous before he was an old man. Renoir and Degas sometimes peddled paintings door to door, trying to gather enough money so as not to get evicted.

Max Jacob, a journalist and poet, became friends with Picasso when he first arrived in Paris. He taught Picasso French and the two men shared an apartment. The apartment consisted of one small room. Besides being small, it was extremely cold. Sometimes, to stay warm, they burned Picasso’s paintings. I’m not sure if this room was in the Le Bateau-Lavoir, but since both men did live in this building I’m betting it was.

A young Picasso in front of Le Bateau-Lavoir and one of his works in progress.

Le Bateau-Lavoir was a run-down dump of a building that served as an artist’s commune. Because of the hills in Montmartre, part of the compound was one story, and another more than three stories. People often commented it looked more like a heap of garbage than a building. Whenever it was windy the building swayed. There was no heat or plumbing. Because of the swaying and creaking it reminded people of the washing boats on the river. That’s how it got its name, which means the laundry boat, along with the fact that the way it was set up inside made it look like an ocean liner. The building was poorly heated, making it miserable during the winter months. One of Picasso’s mistresses during the time would stay in bed all day just to keep warm. One night she left a cup of water on the stand by the bed. In the morning the water was frozen solid. Additionally, there was one water tap in the whole building.

This dump of a building housed a ridiculously high number of creative geniuses—geniuses who would make art history. Click here to read the names of many of those great artists, under "history". Renoir was another who lived here for awhile, and Suzanne Valadon (who would herself become a painter) was his model. All but the façade was destroyed by fire in 1970. It was rebuilt in 1978.

Just like now, artists searched out the cheapest housing they could find, hoping against hope that somehow, someday they would become popular enough to have money to live on. Many of the artists from this time period did become famous. Unfortunately, most of them were old or dead by the time it happened.

Regardless, these artists went into painting knowing it wasn’t easy. They would probably never get rich, never see fame. Why did they paint? They painted because they had to. They had no choice. It’s why they were born.


Another view of Le Bateau-Lovoir


Historical Fiction by Caddy Rowland: 




Contact and Social Media Info. For Caddy Rowland:

Author Email: caddyauthor@gmail.com
Twitter: @caddyorpims

October 22, 2014

Caddy Rowland - Making History, Bohemian Style (Part 10)

Please welcome back historical fiction author and artist, Caddy Rowland, our monthly contributor here at Historical Fiction Connection.


We’ve talked about places where artists gathered to party and discuss art. We’ve even talked about their favorite place to get supplies. But what about their favorite place to paint? Well, I’ve mentioned how freeing it was to be able to finally buy paint in tubes. Many times artists would escape into the countryside to paint idyllic scenes. Other times they would simply set up a canvas on a Montmartre street and capture the daily lives of various residents. And, of course, many are familiar with the paintings and posters done featuring the Moulin Rouge dancehall girls by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (see above), not to mention the fabulous painting of Moulin de la Galette by Pierre-Auguste Renoir (see below).


But there was one location that became the most popular place for artists to gather and paint. It was a small, unassuming public square in Montmartre named Place du Tertre. Here they could gather and capture the feel of the village while at the same time work off of each other’s energy and excitement. It was a great place to share new ideas and experiment.

I mentioned previously how Impressionists could capture the different times of day. Being outside meant they could capture the glow of sunrise or sunset; show the glare of a full sun beating down on a building, or the shadows as they moved across a street during different times of day. Color changes depended on not only time of day but weather. These painters had always understood that, but now it was much easier to capture because they painted those changes while actually witnessing them. That’s why so many quit worrying about showing a scene in three dimensions. Instead they wanted to show those shadows and changes in color. Mood became more important than technicality of realism.

Now, with this new method of painting outside a new problem arose. In order to catch the changes of day these artists had to paint quickly. How does one paint quickly when oils take a lot of time to dry between layers? Never being the type to give up, they adapted and changed the way they handled paint. They simply began to paint alla prima (wet on wet) most of the time. This technique wasn’t new in oil. However, using it the majority of the time certainly was something artists in the past hadn’t done. Applying wet paint over wet paint not only allowed these artists to work faster, it demanded they do so. It was essential to get the layers on before the first layer dried.

Place du Tertre in the old days

Now Place du Tertre has become a tourist trap. Artists rent small spaces along the square and halfway through the day, the morning artists leave and the afternoon artists take their place. I imagine one can still find interesting paintings done at this famous locale, but for the most part they are overpriced and underwhelming.

Times change. I’m well aware of it. And, to be fair, I suppose the city had to start renting space or it would be a constant struggle to get one’s easel up before another tried to encroach on your small space. Still, it would be nice if these artists of today used some creativity to find other places to make their own history. After all, those bohemians were brave enough to start their own style and their own locales to create history. It would be difficult to ever top what these nineteenth century artists did, but it’s not so much a competition as a never-ending saga to find the next, new way to show color, texture and shape; to show mood, light, and time. At least, it should be.

Historical Fiction by Caddy Rowland: 




Contact and Social Media Info. For Caddy Rowland:

Author Email: caddyauthor@gmail.com
Twitter: @caddyorpims

September 15, 2014

Caddy Rowland - Making History, Bohemian Style (Part 9)

Please welcome back historical fiction author and artist, Caddy Rowland, our monthly contributor here at Historical Fiction Connection.


Portrait of Père Tanguy by Vincent van Gogh

Over the last several months we’ve chatted about what Impression is, who started the movement, and some of the places bohemian artists of Montmartre hung out when relaxing. While it’s true most of these artists weren’t immune to having a very good time, the majority of their life was taken up by painting. Because it was so very difficult to make a living as a painter, they depended upon others who believe in them enough to support them in various ways. I had mentioned how one place provided free soup at the end of the night. But how did a “starving artist” afford the materials needed to create art?

Art supplies aren’t cheap now, and they certainly weren’t back in the nineteenth century. Many of the paints were made from rare materials. In fact, some still are. It’s a very real problem heading forward, as sources for some of these colors are running low. I can’t imagine a world where some of the most valued paint colors are no longer available. But I digress. We’re back in the nineteenth century right now, and worrying about running out wasn’t the issue…unless one counts running out of a color and not having the money to restock.

Lack of money for paint supplies was a common issue. Thankfully for those artists, and for us, there was someone who believed in them so much he set up an artist’s supply store in 1870 and worked with them in regard to getting supplies.

The man’s name was Julien Tanguy . He was so well-loved by these artists they even called him Père (Father) Tangay. He truly was like a father to these struggling painters. His art supply shop was, of course, in Montmartre. Père also garnered their respect having spent time in prison because of his political beliefs.

The Paris Commune ruled Paris for two short months in 1871. Tangay was heavily involved. The Paris Commune didn’t end prettily. During La Semaine Sanglante (The Bloody Week) government troops forced the Paris Commune out of power. “Forced” isn’t really a strong enough word. Estimates vary from 6,000 to 50,000 as to the number of men, women, and children killed. They were lined up and executed. Somehow Père avoided being killed. He also eventually got released from prison, but as a precaution he stayed in the more rural, bohemian area of Montmartre for the rest of his life.

Staying in Montmartre was fine with him. Montmartre was where all the new art was happening. During this time Père showed Van Gogh's paintings (but never sold one). Soon Monet, Sisley, Gauguin, Seurat and Cézanne paintings could also be found at his store. Like many artists, Cézanne didn't sell well during his lifetime, either. In fact, from 1877 to 1893 the only place where one would find a Cézanne in the whole city was in Tanguy's art supply store.

Showing their work wasn’t the only way he supported artists. He also shared food. Still, as I mentioned, being dirt poor meant many days painters had no money for canvas and paint. Think about that. If they had no canvas or paint, we wouldn’t have the glorious paintings we now prize from this era today.

Thanks to Père Tanguy, having no money didn’t stop them. Père allowed them to buy paint and canvas in exchange for a painting, and even on credit. He didn’t charge interest, nor did he have high prices. Tangay simply gave them what they needed. All many artists gave in return was a verbal promise to pay him whenever they could. Père was no dummy. He was fully aware quite a number would never be able to pay. It didn’t matter. He continued to honor the artists verbal agreements.


Another Portrait of Tangay by van Gogh
He would be called a fool by many, both back then and now. I shudder to think of what his wife may have called him. It would be easy to understand such a sentiment. Credit for supplies to people with no means to pay isn't a very smart way to run a business. You may think he was wealthy, but he wasn't even close to middle-class. 

Nope. Not Père. However, he was a believer in the talent of outrageously new-thinking artists. Artists who took risks, just as he had politically. Artists who had the nerve to show people the world in brand new ways. It isn't hard to see why an anarchist would have a tender spot for these crazy artists, even if they seldom paid. He knew they always hoped to.

The world would be a much colder place without promise and hope. Great things can happen when someone believes. Because of Père Tangay, the art world saw painting change forever in great ways.
Yes, indeed, he was very much like a father. If he could talk today, I’m willing to bet he’d say his “children” did him proud.

Historical Fiction by Caddy Rowland: 




Contact and Social Media Info. For Caddy Rowland:

Author Email: caddyauthor@gmail.com
Twitter: @caddyorpims