Posts filed under ‘About Essoyes’
Interview with Sidonie Bilger, Artiste
Sidonie Bilger est la lauréate 2025 de la Bourse Renoir, parrainée par l’Association Renoir en partenariat avec la Mairie d’Essoyes (Aube) et le site culturel Du Côté des Renoir. Elle a étudié le dessin, la peinture et la gravure à l’École Emile Cohl á Lyon et à la Hochschule der Bildenden Künst Saar en Allemagne, et elle est diplômée de l’École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris. Ses œuvres les plus récentes seront exposées au Manoir Champagne Devaux à Bar-sur-Seine du 3 octobre-1 novembre; puis à la Salle d’Exposition du Crédit Agricole à Troyes (269 Rue du Faubourg Croncels, 10000 Troyes) le 5 -25 novembre. J’ai récemment rencontré Sidonie lors d’une journée portes ouvertes au Château Hériot à Essoyes, où elle travaille sur ses dernières peintures, et elle a gentiment accepté de répondre à quelques questions sur sa vie d’artiste et son travail. Cette interview a été réalisée (principalement) par e-mail, en français et en anglais.
VERSION FRANCAISE (Scroll down for the English version).
Janet Hulstrand: Où as-tu grandi ? Et où vis-tu maintenant ?
Sidonie Bilger: J’ai grandi en Alsace avec mes parents et mon frère, dans un village-dortoir entre Mulhouse et Bâle. Très vite, je suis partie en internat à l’âge de 15 ans vers Strasbourg pour faire mes études. Aujourd’hui, je suis nomade : je vais de résidence d’artistes en résidence d’artistes, de projets en projets. Cela m’amène à déménager très régulièrement, je découvre ainsi plein de régions en France et parfois même à l’étranger. Il m’est arrivé de vivre en Allemagne dans ce cadre, ou de voyager jusque dans les Antilles françaises. Pour des raisons administratives liées à mon activité, j’ai quand même une adresse fixe en Haute-Saône, dans la très belle région des Mille-Étangs. Mes parents me laissent à disposition une roulotte ainsi qu’un grand espace d’atelier et de stockage.
Quelle importance accordez-vous au lieu (urbain/rural, type de paysage, etc.) dans votre travail ?
Plus jeune, j’ai peint beaucoup de paysages. Je peignais sur le motif en extérieur, je n’avais pas toujours d’atelier et c’était pour moi un moment où j’étais en connexion avec le réel, avec la lumière. Je faisais mes gammes en marchant dans les pas d’artistes modernes dont j’aimais énormément le travail.
Aujourd’hui, le lieu n’est jamais un simple décor dans mon travail, il en constitue la matière première. Qu’il soit urbain, rural, industriel ou naturel, chaque territoire porte des traces visibles et invisibles : vestiges, récits, luttes sociales, imaginaires collectifs. Je m’attache à les écouter et à les transformer en images. Dans un paysage industriel en friche, ce sont les mémoires ouvrières et les fantômes des machines qui nourrissent mes fresques. Dans un espace rural, ce sont les tensions contemporaines entre agriculture, écologie et mutation des modes de vie. L’urbain, quant à lui, est à la fois un terrain d’affichage, un espace de friction sociale et une scène où l’art peut entrer en résonance directe avec le quotidien.
Chaque contexte me pousse à ajuster ma pratique : le dessin monumental devient fresque dans l’espace public, collage dans la rue, ou installation immersive dans un lieu clos. Le paysage et l’histoire locale déterminent la forme, mais aussi le sens de l’œuvre. En ce sens, le lieu n’est pas secondaire : il est le point d’ancrage qui permet d’articuler mémoire, imaginaire et engagement.
Depuis combien de temps êtes-vous à Essoyes ? Qu’avez-vous le plus apprécié ici ?
Je suis arrivée à Essoyes le 3 août 2025. L’architecture calcaire et les paysages me rappelaient un peu la Haute-Marne, où j’ai vécu un temps et dont j’ai beaucoup peint les paysages. Mais j’ai été particulièrement fascinée, dans ce village, par la présence de l’eau, cette rivière qui coupe le village en deux. Ensuite, le village m’a touchée dans son initiative autour de la culture. Peu d’habitants y vivent mais j’y ai rencontré un vrai engouement pour la peinture.
Quand avez-vous su que vous vouliez devenir artiste ? Et comment l’avez-vous su ?
Plus jeune, je ne savais pas que le métier d’artiste en arts visuels existait. J’ai toujours aimé dessiner. Je voulais devenir une grande dessinatrice. Je dis souvent que je faisais comme tous les enfants, je dessinais tout le temps, mais que, contrairement à la plupart des adultes, je n’ai jamais arrêté. Lorsqu’il a fallu faire un choix pour mes études, j’ai tenu tête à mes parents et je me suis orientée vers des études artistiques. À l’époque, c’était dans le domaine du stylisme ou du design, je m’orientais maladroitement vers les arts appliqués. Très vite, j’ai compris que ce n’était pas ce que je voulais faire, que ça ne me correspondait pas.
Quand j’ai eu 20 ans, j’ai rencontré un peintre lors d’une conférence. C’est à ce moment que j’ai découvert ce qu’était un artiste et j’ai compris que c’était dans cette direction que j’allais. Avec le recul, je me souviens qu’un professeur d’histoire de l’art m’avait dit que je n’avais rien à faire en arts appliqués. Je l’avais très mal pris, j’étais assez têtue, mais il avait raison. C’est juste qu’à l’époque, pour moi, les artistes peintres appartenaient à un temps passé.
Qu’est-ce qui est le plus important pour vous en tant qu’artiste ? Comment décririez-vous vos principaux objectifs dans la création de votre œuvre ?
Ce qui compte le plus pour moi en tant qu’artiste, c’est de donner forme à ce qui traverse notre époque : les crises écologiques, les fractures sociales, mais aussi les récits et les mémoires qui tissent un territoire. Mon travail cherche à rendre visibles ces tensions, à la fois dans leur dureté et dans leur force de résistance.
L’envie de créer une œuvre naît très souvent chez moi d’un sentiment d’injustice. C’est en quelque sorte toujours une forme de révolte. Je vais chercher, dans les interstices des rencontres et des lieux qui m’accueillent, une histoire qui va m’animer, dans laquelle je vais sûrement me reconnaître et par laquelle je vais essayer de créer du dialogue. J’essaie de créer des images qui dépassent la simple contemplation : des fresques, des dessins monumentaux ou des projets collectifs qui ouvrent un espace de réflexion et de partage. Je veux que l’œuvre soit un lieu de rencontre entre l’individuel et le collectif, entre le sensible et le politique.
Au fond, ma recherche vise à inventer des formes où la beauté et la catastrophe coexistent, pour faire émerger de nouveaux récits communs et nourrir de nouveaux imaginaires.
Quel est le défi le plus difficile à relever en tant qu’artiste ? Qu’est-ce qui est le plus épanouissant, le plus joyeux dans ce métier ?
Le métier d’artiste est très complet et complexe, et sûrement complètement différent d’un artiste à l’autre. Pour ma part, les défis dans la création sont évidents : l’exigence que l’on porte à son travail, les doutes qui nous traversent, la solitude également. Mais il y en a aussi dans tout le reste à côté : les concours, et les dossiers de candidature, la communication, les réseaux sociaux, la gestion d’entreprise, la connaissance et le respect de ses droits, les négociations avec les différents interlocuteurs, la compétition. C’est un monde malheureusement, à certains égards, implacable, et très concurrentiel.
Ce que j’aime dans mon métier, ce sont les voyages qu’il me permet de faire. Mais ce que j’apprécie le plus, c’est quand la peinture me donne accès à des moments de joie, de connexion profonde. Quand mes œuvres parlent au regardeur, je ressens une exaltation intense, mêlée d’espoir, et l’impression d’une force collective qui dépasse l’individuel.
Selon vous, qu’est-ce que beaucoup de gens ne comprennent pas à propos de la peinture ou du travail des peintres, et qu’il est important pour eux de comprendre ?
Beaucoup de gens pensent encore que la peinture est une pratique tournée vers la décoration ou la simple virtuosité technique. Or, peindre, ce n’est pas seulement produire de « belles images », c’est avant tout une manière de penser, de prendre position et d’ouvrir un espace critique. Pour moi, c’est extrêmement important et c’est ce qui est si risqué. Les œuvres d’art les plus importantes de l’histoire de l’art sont aussi celles qui, souvent, ont créé les plus grands scandales.
Le travail d’un peintre engage du temps, une recherche, une relation au monde qui est autant intellectuelle que corporelle. C’est une pratique qui n’est pas isolée de la société : elle dialogue avec l’histoire, l’actualité, les luttes, les imaginaires collectifs. Il est important de comprendre que la peinture n’est pas figée dans le passé. Elle reste un langage vivant, capable d’inventer de nouvelles formes et d’exprimer les tensions les plus brûlantes de notre époque.
Y a-t-il un ou plusieurs thèmes particuliers sur lesquels vous vous concentrez dans votre travail récent ?
Oui, mon travail récent se concentre sur des thèmes liés au collectif et aux formes de résistance. Je m’intéresse au carnaval comme espace de métamorphose et de révolte, où l’anonymat du masque permet de faire émerger des voix multiples. J’explore des imaginaires collectifs hybrides, entre beauté et chaos, qui questionnent notre époque marquée par les crises écologiques, les héritages coloniaux absurdes et la catastrophe en cours, face à laquelle ma génération se sent souvent impuissante.
Je cherche à traduire plastiquement cette tension entre effondrement et désir d’avenir, en inscrivant l’art dans une dynamique de groupe, de partage et de contestation. La question féminine, et plus largement celle de la déconstruction des rapports de domination, traverse aussi mon travail : elle m’amène à inventer des formes où les identités peuvent se transformer et se libérer.
Avez-vous des projets futurs ou des pistes d’exploration que vous aimeriez faire connaître ?
Mon prochain temps fort sera une résidence de création et de médiation au lycée agricole de Bourges – Le Subdray. Le thème central de cette résidence tournera autour de l’animalité et de l’altérité. Je vais explorer comment ces notions peuvent ouvrir un dialogue entre les êtres humains, le vivant et le territoire, dans un lycée agricole, ce qui engage aussi l’écologie, l’éthique, la relation avec les autres formes de vie.
Par ailleurs, j’ai plusieurs projets de fresques à venir et je continue de postuler à de nombreux appels à projets et résidences pour étendre mon travail, tant en France qu’à l’étranger.
Janet Hulstrand est une écrivaine américaine qui habite en France. Elle est l’auteur de Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, et A Long Way from Iowa: From the Heartland to the Heart of France. On peut trouver son écriture aussi sur Substack. Et vous pouvez en savoir plus sur les oeuvres et les activitiés de Sidonie Bilger sur son site.
ENGLISH VERSION
Sidonie Bilger is the 2025 recipient of the Bourse Renoir, sponsored by the Association Renoir in partnership with the Mairie d’Essoyes (Aube) and the cultural site Du Côté des Renoir. She has studied drawing, painting, and engraving at the Emile Cohl School in Lyon and the Hochschule der Bildenden Künst Saar in Germany, and she is a graduate of the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Her most recent work will be exhibited at the Manoir Champagne Devaux in Bar-sur-Seine from October 3-November 1, and at the Crédit Agricole Salle d’Exposition in Troyes (269 Rue du Faubourg Croncels, 10000 Troyes) from November 5-25. I recently met Sidonie at an open house at the Château Hériot in Essoyes, where she is working on her latest paintings, and she kindly agreed to answer a few questions for me about her life as an artist and her work. This interview was conducted (mostly) via email, in French and in English.
Janet Hulstrand: Where did you grow up? And where do you live now?
Sidonie Bilger: I grew up in Alsace with my parents and my brother, in a commuter village between Mulhouse and Basel. I went to a boarding school near Strasbourg at the age of 15 to continue my studies. Today, I am nomadic: I move from artist residency to artist residency, from project to project. This requires that I relocate very frequently, and allows me to discover many regions in France and sometimes even abroad. I have lived in Germany in this context, and I’ve also traveled as far as the French Antilles. I still have a permanent address in Haute-Saône, in the beautiful Mille-Étangs region. My parents provide me with a trailer and a large space for a studio and storage.
How important is place (urban/rural, type of landscape, etc.) in your work?
When I was younger, I painted a lot of landscapes. I painted en plein air, often without a studio, and it was for me a moment of deep connection with the natural world, and with light. I practiced my techniques while following in the footsteps of modern artists whose work I admired greatly.
Today, the place where I am working is never just a backdrop in my work; it constitutes the raw material. Whether urban, rural, industrial, or natural, each territory carries visible and invisible traces: ruins, stories, social struggles, collective imagination. I try to listen to all this and transform it into images. In an abandoned industrial landscape, it is the memory of labor and the ghosts of machines that feed my murals. In a rural space, it is the contemporary tensions between agriculture, ecology, and changing ways of life. Urban spaces are places of display, zones of social friction, and stages where art can resonate directly with daily life.
Each context pushes me to adjust my practice: monumental drawing becomes a public mural, a street collage, or an immersive installation in an enclosed space. The landscape and local history determine both the form and the meaning of the work. In this sense, the place is not secondary: it is the anchor point that allows memory, imagination, and engagement to intersect.
How long have you been in Essoyes? What have you appreciated most here?
I arrived in Essoyes on August 3, 2025 and I will be here until October 3. The limestone architecture and landscapes here remind me a little of Haute-Marne, where I lived for a while and painted many landscapes. But what particularly fascinates me in this village is the presence of water, the river that cuts through the center of the town. I have also been touched by the village’s cultural initiatives. It’s not a very big population, but I have found here a genuine enthusiasm for painting.
When did you know you wanted to become an artist? And how did you realize it?
When I was younger, I didn’t know that being a visual artist was even a profession. I’ve always loved to draw. I wanted to become really good at drawing. I often say that, like most children, I drew constantly, but unlike most adults, I never stopped. When it came time to choose my studies, I stood my ground with my parents and oriented myself toward art studies. At the time, it was in the fields of fashion design or industrial design, and I was awkwardly exploring the applied arts. Very quickly, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted, that it didn’t suit me.
When I was 20, I met a painter at a lecture. That’s when I discovered what being an artist truly was, and I realized this was the path I wanted to follow. Looking back, I remember an art history professor once told me I had no place in applied arts. I took it badly at the time—I was quite stubborn—but he was right. It’s just that, back then, I thought painters only belonged to the past.
What is most important to you as an artist? How would you describe your main objectives in creating your work?
The most important thing for me as an artist is to give form to what shapes our time: ecological crises, social fractures, as well as the stories and memories that weave a territory. My work seeks to make these tensions visible, both in their harshness and in the strength of their resilience.
The desire to create often arises from a sense of injustice. It is, in a way, always a form of revolt. I seek, between the encounters and the places in my surroundings, a story that animates me, in which I can recognize myself, and through which I try to create dialogue. I aim to produce images that go beyond mere contemplation: murals, monumental drawings, or collective projects that open a space for reflection and sharing. I want the work to be a meeting place between the individual and the collective, between the poetic and the political.
Ultimately, my research aims to invent forms where beauty and catastrophe coexist, to bring forth new shared narratives and nourish new ways of seeing our world.
What is the most difficult challenge as an artist? What is most fulfilling, most joyful in this work?
Being an artist is a complex, multifaceted profession, and is surely very different from one artist to another. For me, the challenges in creation are evident: the demands we place on our own work, the doubts we feel, and the solitude. But there are also challenges in all the rest of it: contests and applications, communication, social media, business management, understanding and standing up for one’s rights, negotiating with various stakeholders. It is unfortunately at times a harsh and highly competitive world.
What I love about my work is that it allows me to travel. But what I appreciate most is the moments of joy and of deep connection it brings me. When my paintings really speak to viewers, I feel an intense joy, a sense of hope–and the sense of a collective force that transcends the individual.
In your opinion, what do many people misunderstand about painting or the work of painters, and what is important for them to understand?
Many people still think of painting as a practice aimed at decoration or pure technical virtuosity. Yet painting is not just about producing “beautiful images”; it is above all a way of thinking, taking a position, and opening a critical space. For me, this is extremely important, and it is what makes it so risky. The most important works in art history are often those that caused the greatest scandals.
A painter’s work requires time, research, and a relationship with the world that is both intellectual and physical. It is a practice that is not isolated from society: it dialogues with history, current events, struggles, and the collective imagination. It is important to understand that painting is not frozen in the past. It remains a living language, capable of inventing new forms and expressing the most urgent tensions of our time.
Are there particular themes you focus on in your recent work?
Yes, my recent work focuses on themes related to collectivity and forms of resistance. I am interested in carnivale as a space of metamorphosis and revolt, where the anonymity of the mask allows multiple voices to emerge. I explore hybrid collective images–between beauty and chaos—that question our era, marked by ecological crises, absurd colonial legacies, and ongoing catastrophe, in the face of which my generation often feels powerless.
I seek to translate this tension between collapse and desire for the future, embedding art in a dynamic of group work, sharing, and protest. Feminist questions–and more broadly the deconstruction of power relations–also run through my work. They lead me to invent forms in which identities can transform and be liberated.
What’s next for you? Do you have upcoming projects or areas of exploration you’d like to share?
My next major step will be a creation and mediation residency at the agricultural high school in Bourges – Le Subdray. The central theme of this residency will focus on the relationship between humans and animals and the attempt to find new, and more positive ways of interacting with them. I will explore how these notions can open a dialogue between humans, the living world, and the earth, in an agricultural school setting, engaging ecology, ethics, and the relationship of humans with other forms of life.
In addition, I have several upcoming mural projects, and I continue to apply to numerous calls for projects and residencies to expand my work both in France and abroad.
Janet Hulstrand is an American writer/editor who lives in France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and A Long Way from Iowa: From the Heartland to the Heart of France. You can also find her writing on Substack. And you can learn more about Sidonie Bilger’s work and follow her activities on her website.
Why is May 8 a holiday in France?
Well, it is more precisely a solemn day of commemoration than a holiday, or a jour de fête. For May 8, 1945, is the day that Germany surrendered to the Allies, and Europe was at last free of the Nazi nightmare they had lived through for more than a decade.
Each year in towns, cities, and villages throughout France, this day is remembered. In my village of Essoyes there is always a défilé through the town, from the mairie to the war memorial next to the church, where an official proclamation is read. This year, on the eightieth anniversary of V-E Day, the proclamation was signed by Sebastien Lecornu, Minister of the Armed Forces of France, and Patricia Miralles, Deputy Minister.
Today our mayor read this proclamation to the people of Essoyes–young, old, and in-betweens–who had gathered to honor this day. This is an excerpt of what he read:
“…Le sacrifice pour la Victoire avait été immense. Aux soldats morts, blessés, prisonniers; aux résistants foudroyés ou torturés, s’ajoutaient les civils assassinés et déportés, en particulier les Juifs morts dans la Shoah, ainsi que les champs de ruines laissés par les durs combats de la Libération. La France était meurtrie, mais un peuple entier avait survécu à l’une des pires épreuves de son Histoire grâce au soutien de ses alliés…” (You can read the rest of the message here.)
Then the names of every citizen of Essoyes who had sacrificed his life during World War II were read aloud by children of the village, and the sapeurs-pompiers, who were carrying the flag and standing at attention shouted Mort pour la France after each name was pronounced.
After that we all proceeded to the monument aux morts, and from there to two streets in the village named in honor of André Romagon and Maurice Forgeot, local résistants who were murdered by the Gestapo. In each of these places a minute of silence was observed, and flowers were left.
The names of the individuals featured on this page–Louise Dréano, André Romagon, Maurice Forgeot, Howard Season, Dick Rueckert, Charles E. Anderson–are but a few of the brave souls–French, Americans, Canadians, and others from around the world–who risked their lives to deliver France, and ultimately Germany and the rest of Europe as well, from the terrible fascist regime that had terrorized this continent. Horrific loss of life and untold quantities of additional suffering were required to regain the freedom that was lost when that regime took hold.
Today’s proclamation from the French Minister of the Armed Forces concludes “In a world where threats are multiplying, where ancient threats hover again over the country, and while international relationships are being reconfigured, let us remember the sacrifices that an entire generation of Frenchmen and women withstood to liberate the country, to rebuild it, and to give us back our sovereignty….” (That’s my emphasis 😦 )
Would that the current threats to democracy and freedom that are hovering over us today, around the world, be pushed back without the need for such horrendous loss of life. So that we all might live better lives.
Is it too much to hope for?
Janet Hulstrand is an American writer/editor who lives in France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and A Long Way from Iowa: From the Heartland to the Heart of France. You can also find her writing at Searching for Home.
Springtime in Essoyes 2024
We are experiencing the fullness of spring these days. After a very rainy few weeks that was a bit too much of a good thing for the vignerons, and caused the river to be so full that it threatened to flood the center of Essoyes, finally the sun has come out, which is brightening spirits–and at least so far the river has stayed within its banks, pshew!
After all that rain, a little bit of sun has brought about abundant growth. The colza has shot up seemingly overnight (though not really), from knee-length to now over my head, and the fruit trees are in full bloom. How beautiful it all is!
Earlier this week I had the distinct pleasure–and honor–of meeting with a book group in Washington DC, to take questions about my memoir, A Long Way from Iowa: From the Heartland to the Heart of France, through the wonders of Zoom. The Women’s Biography book group sponsored by Politics and Prose, my favorite indie bookstore in the US, had chosen my book for their April selection, and wanted to know if I would like to visit their meeting.
I was delighted to do so even though for me that meant getting up at 1:00 in the morning so I could be awake enough to be coherent when I joined them at a little after 7:30 pm their time (and 1:30 am mine!). (Not being a night owl at all there was no way I would have been able to stay awake that long before joining them.) I think they had enjoyed the book (pshew again!) and they asked me such interesting questions and made wonderful comments. They even gave me permission to share a picture of our Zoom meeting so that I could encourage other book groups to do the same.
It is always SO NICE for authors to be able to meet directly with the people who read their books. So if you are reading this post, and you are interested in women’s memoirs, and you belong to a book group who might like to read my book, and have me visit your meeting, please do so! I’d love to have such an opportunity, and I think I have now proved my sincerity and willingness to get up at any hour of the day to meet readers. 🙂
Mother’s Day is coming up soon in both the US and France–and I think the UK and Canada also? And I think A Long Way From Iowa–as a three-generations-of-women fulfilling-the-dream story–is appropriate Mother’s Day reading. I hope some of you will agree.
Until the next post, happy reading (whatever you are reading). And happy spring!
Janet Hulstrand is an American writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who lives in France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and A Long Way from Iowa: From the Heartland to the Heart of France; and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home.
September in Essoyes, Paris, and Nice!
My goodness, what a busy month this has been!
First of all, there was the vendange (the grape harvest) which of course is always a busy and important time of year in Essoyes. This year, despite a very dry summer, there was a very abundant harvest, which made everyone both relieved and happy.
To add the excitement for me, this year one of my oldest and dearest friends in the world came for a visit. She and her husband were lucky to finally, on their third try, be able to take a Rhine River cruise to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary, after two previous cruises were postponed due to Covid restrictions. And I was lucky that after their cruise was over they chose to meet me in Paris and then come with me to Essoyes for a couple of days before they had to head back home to Colorado.
They had a whirlwind couple of days in Paris, in which they were able to make it to two of the three sights that Colleen’s 95-year-old father had told them were “must-sees”: the Basilica of Sacré Coeur in Montmartre, and the rue du Bac. We weren’t able to work in a visit to Chartres, Mr. Foy’s third must-see, in the short time they had, but we did stop in the beautiful medieval city of Troyes on our way to Essoyes. Troyes has many beautiful churches, as well as a cathedral, a synagogue, and a mosque. I took them to see my favorite church, the Eglise de la Madeleine, and they also were able to visit the very cool Musée de l’Outil et de la Pensée Ouvrière (Museum of Tools and of Workers’ Thought).
Then it was on to Essoyes. My friends got there too late to see the grapes being pressed, but not too late to be given a wonderful private tour of the pressoir owned by our friends Bethsabée and Léa Roger, which they declared a highlight of their visit.
Their visit to Essoyes was wonderful, but short. And almost as soon as they left I had to leave Essoyes again, to go to Nice, where I had been invited to present on Demystifying the French at a conference my friend Adrian was hosting. It was a very interesting, friendly and responsive audience, composed of (mostly) Americans who are considering the possibility of moving to France. We had a great time discussing some of the cultural differences between the French way of doing things, and the American way, that can lead to confusion and even sometimes dismay not only for Americans, but for French people as well. I tried to give them some tips about how to understand these differences and how to avoid cultural clashes over them, and I was very happy that quite a few people told me afterward that they really enjoyed my presentation.
The day after my presentation I was invited to join the group in a one-day tour of the lovely Côte d’Azur area before they went on to Provence and Occitanie. What a treat! Here are just a few images from a lovely day.
Then it was back to Essoyes, and time to settle into autumn activities: stacking wood, resuming my writing projects, and preparing to continue exploring the history of France with the students in my online class. There’s room for more students this time, so if anyone is interested in learning about how France recovered from World War II, we’ll be reading three very interesting books and we’ll have a couple of great visitors to the class who will share their expertise to augment our learning.
Wishing everyone a happy, safe, productive autumn. (You can keep wearing your masks if you want to 🙂 )
Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the US and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You and will soon publish her next book, A Long Way from Iowa, a literary memoir.
July in Essoyes: Birthdays, Bicycles, and Champagne!
July has been a busy month for us in Essoyes. In mid-July, due to record-breaking temperatures, one of our sons decided that working from home in Essoyes was preferable to working from his apartment in Paris, so he and his girlfriend asked if they could come and stay with us for a few days.
Of course the answer was yes.
It was delightful to have them here. My son’s birthday is just five days before mine, and our dessert of choice for our birthdays is always a raspberry tarte (tarte aux framboises). Our patissier makes a wonderful tarte, and so we enjoyed one together a few days before his birthday.
Sometimes birthday celebrations can be frustrating to plan, especially with summer birthdays–getting everyone to be in the same place at the same being often challenging. This time we were very lucky to have all the stars line up so that an unplanned visit from two dear friends who live nearby coincided with our son’s unplanned escape from the heat wave in Paris, and voila! we had ourselves a delightful unplanned birthday party.
The last week in July began with a two-day birthday celebration for my birthday; first we had dinner at one of the two lovely riverside restaurants in the heart of Essoyes, the day before my birthday. Then we had dinner again the next day in the other one, when we realized that our other son, who lives in Lille, would be able to join us for that; and of course there was no better birthday present than to have him here.
Then on Wednesday, July 27, the Women’s Tour de France came through town. There has only been a women’s race five times in the 113-year history of the Tour de France, and this was the first time in more than 30 years. According to the director of the race, it was a great success, with enthusiastic crowds greeting and cheering the cyclists on all along the 640-mile route.
In Essoyes, pink bicycles beautifully decorated with handmade crepe paper flowers, and crepe paper flowers gracing the grillwork and the bridges over the Ource River, helped point the way for the cyclists to make their several turns through town.
The Troyes to Bar-sur-Aube étape went right past our driveway as the cyclists came speeding downhill out of the forest, on the stretch from Gyé-sur-Seine to Essoyes. So we were the very first Essoyens to greet them with enthusiastic clapping and cheering as they entered our village. It was lots of fun; I hope they do it again next year. (Though if they do, they will no doubt take a different route: the Tour de France likes to spread the excitement to different villages and towns every year.)
The end of the week brought Son #1 and his girlfriend back to Essoyes, and this time a few of their friends also, who came to celebrate the Route du Champagne en Fête, an annual celebration in our department (l’Aube) of–yep, you guessed it–champagne!
We often feel like our swimming pool doesn’t get used enough; but the fun they all had in the late afternoon–swimming and sitting poolside, then hanging around talking, eating pizza, playing Uno, drinking ratafia until late in the evening–more than made up for some of la piscine’s more idle days.
And, as usual, evening fell with the gift of a very beautiful sunset.
Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You and is currently working on her next book, A Long Way from Iowa, a literary memoir.
Spring 2022 in Essoyes
Spring has been capricious this year. It was here, bringing sunshine, warmer weather, beautiful wildflowers, and sunnier dispositions. Windows were being opened to let warm breezes inside. Then it snowed again! Which was not good for the young buds on the vines that are so important to life here–and to making the champagne that brings pleasure to people far and wide. The temperature hit a record low for April, and so our local vignerons were once again desperately trying to save their crop of grapes for this year. 😦
Fingers crossed that winter–beautiful as it is–is done for this year! We’re all very ready for spring.
This is an important month in France, as voters choose their next president. In France there is a two-round system for the presidential elections. The two candidates who get the most votes in the first round–which was yesterday–then face off in the final election, which will be held on April 24.
This year there were 12 candidates on the ballot for the first round. And this year–as in 2017–the final choice for French voters is between Emmanuel Macron, the current president, and Marine LePen.
Although the system of counting votes here is very simple and old-fashioned –paper ballots are counted by hand in each commune or arrondissement–it seems to work better than the system in the US. By the morning after the election, sometimes even earlier, the results are posted so that everyone can see how their community voted. I walked into the village this morning so I could see the results for Essoyes posted at the mairie, but since you can’t read the figures on my photograph of the posting (instead you see a rather lovely reflection of the part of the village that was behind the photographer 🙂 ) you can see how Essoyens voted here if you’re curious. And you can read this very interesting article if you want to learn about part of what is at stake in this election. (Only part: there are always, of course, many many issues of concern. But this one seems pretty significant to me. )
The news from Ukraine continues to be horrifying, and the worst part of it is the slowness of action on the part of political leaders to take more vigorous and decisive action to deal with the rapidly mounting humanitarian crisis, and in fact a genocide. Another one. How can this be happening again. How can it?
Many are doing what they can–France, for example, has already taken in some 45,000 Ukrainian refugees since this crisis began less than two months ago. But there will surely be more tragedy ahead unless Putin’s war machine is stopped, and the powers that be are not doing enough, and they’re not acting quickly enough. They’re not!
Fossil fuels are destroying the planet and now they are also fueling this terribly bloody war. When will we put an end to this madness?! How many more innocent people have to suffer from our inability–or unwillingness–to change our ways? It is really so awful. So maddening. So disheartening. So wrong!!
There have been some bright spots in the news. Last week doctors and scientists around the world made clear where they stand about the climate crisis in large numbers. Thank God for them, for their dedication and honesty, for their commitment to doing what they can to turn things around before it is too late. If the climate action movement could pick up steam as rapidly as the resurgence of union activity seems to be doing in the United States as of last week, maybe things could begin to get better.
I hope so, and SOON! because really? Things are not going so well on Planet Earth right now. 😦
There is much hope to be found among youth around the world: young people with great courage, imagination, determination and generosity are doing what they can to correct the mistakes and make up for the negligence of their parents’ and grandparents’ generations. If you want to feel a little bit better about how things are going; if you wonder sometimes if there is any hope at all, you might want to read about some of these young people in this book. The young people featured in it are truly a source of great hope. But they need our help: they can’t solve these big problems alone.
Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, A Long Way from Iowa: A Literary Memoir.
Late Summer, Essoyes 2021
Well, it has not been a quiet week in Essoyes, and next week will be even busier because I am told that is when the vendange will begin.
This is the week we (that is, our family) had to say goodbye to our beloved épicéas (spruce) trees, another victim of climate change. (Of course I am well aware that around the world, including in my beloved city of New York, others have suffered much worse fates, this very week. 😦 )
Nonetheless, for us this was a big loss, and it was a big job to take these trees down. Fortunately, we were able to call upon our local paysagiste, one of whose specialities is “abbatage délicat,” to take on this enormous task. And délicat is indeed the right word for the work they did for us this week.
We were most impressed (plus relieved) to watch this team practice their expertise. Five (out of the 32 very tall trees that had to come down) were right next to our house, with a fence behind them, and a road on the other side of the fence, plus a farmer’s field. These guys–two guys, one with a ladder and a chain saw, the other standing at a distance with a rope attached to the tree–managed to take these huge trees down, one at a time, in such a way that when they came crashing down, they cleared the house by a very narrow margin, and also managed to not hit my beloved “Christmas tree”–a beautiful, majestic cedar, which is (thankfully) immune to the insects that have devastated all the spruces. This task was carried out with surgical precision. It was amazing!
And it was not a lucky accident that it turned out that way. This was the result of sheer professional expertise. I have often remarked on the excellence of the French in mastering their various métiers. Here again we saw that excellence demonstrated.
So while it was sad to see our lovely trees go, remembering how that line of evergreens had sheltered, more or less cocooned us here in our lovely French home, by the time we were able to arrange to have them taken down, we were not only ready, but actually quite eager, to have it happen. Because by the time they came down, they had not been green in the least for a good while; and there is really nothing at all lovely about looking at a line of dead trees. (It’s also no fun wondering every time a storm comes up which of them may come crashing down, and where!)
Before 
After
And so, in the end, the new and expansive openness of our view from here has felt liberating, even kind of joyful. The beauty of the sunsets that I have so often shared on my Facebook page no longer have to be taken while standing between the trees and holding my camera up: the view of that beautiful sky and the fields over which it performs its daily visual splendor now can be seen clearly right from our house, and all around our yard.
In other news: French kids went back to school this week. And I must say, this tweet, with a short video of the rentrée, which I saw on the news feed of L’Est Eclair (our regional newspaper) really touched my heart. I feel for all the parents, kids, teachers, and school administrators who are doing their best both to resume a semi-normal school year, and to protect the kids from that nasty virus. It’s not easy. I hope things will go well. The kids didn’t ask for this, and they don’t deserve it. 😦
Anyway: as the virus picks up in various places, these words again become very useful: wear your masks, wash your hands, practice those rules of social distancing. Be safe, be well. Prenez soin de vous…
Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, A Long Way from Iowa: A Literary Memoir.
Summertime 2021
In spite of early predictions for another hot, dry (meaning good-for-wasps) summer, at least in this corner of southern Champagne it has been cool and frequently rainy. I’m not sure what this means for the farmers around here: I know the season started out badly for those who grow grapes and other kinds of fruit, due to a few unseasonably warm days in May, followed by a late freeze.
To the untrained eye, the vineyards look healthy, at least the ones I have seen. In any case, my message to the world is the same as it always is: buy champagne! Support farmers!
And my message to wasps is: no offense, but we have not missed you this summer!
I thought that in this post, rather than try to sum up the ever-changing rules, progress in the fight against Covid, sliding back in the fight against Covid, disagreement about how to handle the pandemic, etc., I would give you some respite from all that, through a little late-summer photographic resume of this beautiful part of the world in which I find myself.
Fields of wheat, vineyards 
Poppies can grow anywhere! 
The fertile, rolling hills of Champagne 
Wind turbines on a plateau. Clean, sustainable energy! 
These field flowers were luminescent even at dusk.
The photo at the top of this post was taken at dawn. And the one below, at dusk.
There is no such thing as a day here that is not beautiful. I hope wherever you are, you will find beauty in your world too, even if it is in the lovely colors of sunset saturating a brick wall in golden light, or reflected in panes of glass. Or wildflowers making their determined way through cracks in a sidewalk, or a pile of gravel. There’s beauty everywhere…
Stay safe, stay well everyone. Get the vaccine. Wear those masks. So much to enjoy in this world.
Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, A Long Way from Iowa: A Literary Memoir.
Midsummer Night’s Dream…
It is just past summer solstice, and France is creeping out from under the restrictions imposed due to the pandemic. Last week Prime Minister Jean Castex announced that people are no longer required to wear masks outdoors. (This included, significantly, children playing in the school playgrounds; one can only imagine the happiness of the little ones at this news.)
Also, the evening curfew has been lifted completely. This came just in time for the annual Fêtes de la Musique, a nocturnal festival that occurs all over France on the summer solstice, and is followed by the celebration of the Festival of St. Jean, on June 24.
Here in Essoyes, people are joyfully celebrating the ability to be together again. The restaurants and cafes have reopened. A couple of weeks ago there was a village-wide vide maison (empty the house) what we would call a garage or yard sale, and other special activities, including a hike followed by a community picnic.
Reopening means reopening cultural events also. There will be organ concerts in the church at Essoyes over the next few weeks, bringing musicians from as near as Dijon, and as far away as Scotland and Finland.
Among the benefits of country living are being able to get your second Astra Zeneca dose from your friendly local pharmacists, which I did last week. At this point about 50 percent of the French population has received a first dose of the vaccine, and 30 percent have received their second: it’s not enough, but it’s a good start. Hopefully the numbers will continue to grow as rapidly as possible. Last week the vaccine was opened up to children 12 and older as well.
The abundance of the land begins to express itself in early summer. Here are a few proofs of that.
These images are of the barley, wheat, and wild strawberries that grow right in or next to my yard. Up in the hills surrounding the village, the vignerons have been especially busy over the last 10 days: this is the part of the summer where the vines must be trellised, which requires extra hands in the vines. The enjambeurs have been heading into the vineyards early in the morning–sometimes at dawn. Of course, this being France, they come back down for a nice, long lunch. Then it’s back into the vineyards again to work until early evening.
I am lucky to have a neighbor whose hens are prolific enough that she is able to share their eggs with others. Fresher, more delicious eggs I have never tasted!
Finally, from spring to fall there are many lovely varieties of wildflowers here that spring up of their own volition, brightening landscapes and cityscapes alike with their colorful variations. Here are a few of the current stars of the show.
Wishing you a safe, pleasant summer wherever you are. Bonne continuation, et prenez soin de vous!
Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, A Long Way from Iowa: A Literary Memoir.
Adieu to a Much-Beloved Village Doctor
I knew fairly early a few mornings ago that someone in our village must have died, because the way the church bells rang at 8:00 was not the usual way. They were tolling, not just ringing the hour.
So I checked the Facebook page for our village, and that is how I learned that the person who had died was Dr. Grizot, and that there would be a funeral mass for him held in our village church that afternoon.
Essoyes is lucky to have a village doctor. Many communities in rural France do not have doctors living in their communities. We have one now, and we were also lucky to have had Alain Grizot as our village doctor for many years, until he retired a few years ago.
I didn’t know Dr. Grizot very well, but I knew him a bit, because several times he was the doctor who cared for members of my family. I also encountered him several times after his retirement, at cultural or heritage events that he was participating in, and so was I. One was the annual memorial hike led by Guy Prunier, in honor of the French Resistance unit, the Maquis Montcalm, based in nearby Mussy-sur-Seine. Another was a guided walking tour led by the staff of the Maison Renoir here in Essoyes.
A few years ago I asked Dr. Grizot if he would be willing to sit down with me and answer some questions about his career as a village doctor. It was my intention to publish the interview on this blog but I was not able to do that, mainly because the interview was very long, and in French (so it required transcription and translation, both very time-consuming tasks), and thus difficult for me to find the time to do it. And now, sadly, I don’t even have access to the recording because it has become locked in an old computer that I can’t get into anymore. (This made me sad before every time I thought about it, and it makes me even sadder now. ) If I can find a way one of these days to recapture that interview, I will eventually do what I intended to do in the first place: which was to publish it as one of a collection of occasional essays and interviews I am posting, as I am able to do so, to feature the lives and the work of some of the citizens of this town, and their contributions to the life here.
However, I do remember a few things from that interview that I can share here. I remember that although he came here, I believe as a young man, a new doctor, and then spent the rest of his life here, he was not born and raised in Essoyes. I vaguely remember him telling me that he came from somewhere in Burgundy, a fact that seems to be confirmed, or at least strongly suggested, by the fact that he was to be buried in Nolay, a village south of Dijon. I remember also that I asked him what was the hardest thing about being a doctor. And while I can’t remember his exact words, I remember that before he answered he looked both thoughtful and sad, and that he said something about how hard it was to see people who he had cared for as little children die as young adults. I believe he said something specifically about car accidents.
Village doctors, and family doctors in general, are becoming more and more rare individuals in our modern world. The amount of training required is considerable, it is ongoing, and the compensation is not what it should be, certainly not comparable to the compensation specialists can expect to receive. Though in general health care in France is much better than in the U.S., this is a problem here just as it is in the United States. I think we talked a bit about this too, about how hard it was to have enough doctors when the sacrifices asked of them are as great as they are, and the rewards insufficient for all but the most dedicated, and those able to survive on the very modest amounts they are allowed to charge for their services.
We did discuss this a bit, but it was in the context of how this a problem not so much for doctors (though it certainly is that), but for the public. What I remember most about that interview was Dr. Grizot’s intelligence; the way he spoke about current and evolving medical issues knowledgeably and with genuine interest, even though he was retired from the profession. He talked for a long time, and seemed to be very happy to have been asked to talk about his work. The other thing that stood out was his compassionate nature, which was evident as he talked about the people he had cared for. That is what seemed to matter the most to him.
So, I would say that one way to honor Dr. Grizot is to remember how much he cared. And to do what he would want. I think he would want everyone to take good care of themselves (“prenez soin de vous“), to carry out, as it were, the work that good doctors everywhere do when they take care of us.
And to drive carefully. An especially good time of year to remember these things.
Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “A Long Way from Iowa.”
Writing from the Heart, Reading for the Road 