A quiet corner in Aix en Provence houses this baroque fountain. I sat painting it and marveling how this little fountain has been bubbling on since 1667. North America was still an eden and there were less than 700 million people on the planet when Jean-Claude Rambot created it. There it sat in the middle of a traffic circle.
Sitting in my campsite with a view towards Cezanne's Mont Sainte-Victoire, I knew I needed to shed myself of my romantic, impressionistic tendencies and embrace the new. Behind each of these quaint French cities was an uglier version with Cosco, KFC, gas stations and apartments. There was real life instead of a sanitized village for tourism. I instinctively knew the Netherlands would give me opportunities to merge these worlds on one canvas. I imagined Vincent and Paul laughing as I turned their southern quests on its head.