Posts filed under ‘About France’
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.
A first close encounter with Joan of Arc…
The very first time I was in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City I was there in the best of circumstances I can imagine. My boyfriend dropped me off there in the morning; and said he would pick me up sometime in the late afternoon.
Therefore, I was free to explore that amazing museum all by myself with no one else’s conflicting desires to interfere with my wandering through the collections, and no distraction of any kind by anyone else for quite a few hours.
I don’t remember a whole lot about what I did that day. I started by strolling through the antiquities. I probably spent a fair amount of time in the medieval section looking at the richly colorful paintings and sculptures. I think I took a lunch break in the café on the main floor. Then I went upstairs and began wandering through the galleries of European paintings.
When I rounded a corner and saw the painting you see above I stopped, and stood there for a long time. This painting of Joan of Arc at the moment she is being visited by the Archangel Michael and two female saints really spoke to me.
The description on Wikipedia says that this painting shows Joan at the moment that these spirits are “rousing her to fight the English invaders in the Hundred Years War,” and describes it as a moment of “spiritual awakening.”
To me it looks more like a moment of profound fear.
I mean, put yourself in the place of this simple country girl–she was in her early teens, between 13 and 15 years old–when these heavenly apparitions quite suddenly appeared in her parents’ garden and instructed her to undertake an incredibly dangerous mission that everyone, but everyone, was going to think was insane.
Wouldn’t you be afraid?
I have never forgotten this painting and though I haven’t spent all that much time thinking about Joan of Arc in the years since, when I moved to northeastern France, not too far from where she was born and raised, I began to idly think about taking a day trip sometime to see that place.
It was ten years before this idle thought became a reality, last week. I will be writing about that experience soon in the “Adventures in France” part of my Substack.
But for now I thought I would just share this bit of background on my interest in Joan of Arc. I can see already that a wonderfully intriguing “rabbit hole” of discovery awaits me.
It’s an incredible story, it really is. Stay tuned!
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.
A lovely weekend in Lille (Hauts de France)
Lille, the capital of the Hauts de France region, is a lovely city in the northeastern tip of France’s “Hexagon.” Located very near the Belgian border, Lille has been a major center of government, higher education, art, culture, and commerce for hundreds of years. It was the capital of Flanders until Flanders became part of France in the late 17th century. Today it continues to be a thriving urban center, with convenient transportation links to Paris, London, Brussels, and Amsterdam.
I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Lille several times in recent years because one of my sons lives there. This weekend my other son and I went there again, this time to watch him perform with his new band, Samjo.
It was a very exciting night not only because this was the band’s first live performance, but because the energy was everything you could want for a first-time gig: a full house, an enthusiastic crowd, and talented musicians performing in perfect harmony, and in synch with one another. My son calls his niche “introvert rock.” His songs feature soulful, poetic reflections on life in a wide variety of its aspects, and from various points of view. As a lifelong lover of the French language, I am especially pleased that he’s mixing in some lyrics in French here and there. 🙂 Check out, for example, Night Lights. (The link provided is to Spotify, but you can access his songs pretty much anywhere music is streaming.)
There were other pleasures of course, and as always in France, one of those pleasures is eating.
We also had a lunch featuring galettes, which is a kind of thin buckwheat crépe (apparently Breton, not Flemish), in this case garnished with smoked salmon and filled with a hummus spread. It was delicious!
I also enjoyed reading, writing, and watching the world go by from a café while my sons worked, one at the school where he teaches, the other one at a café table not far away from me.
Of course for me the best of all was just being with my two sons and having some nice time together. That was, as the silly commercial goes, priceless.
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.
Armistice Day/Veterans Day 2024
It’s been called Veterans Day in the United States since 1954. But it was originally called Armistice Day, and the date on which we remember the veterans of all wars was originally chosen because it is the day on which Germany surrendered to the Allies at the end of World War I, in 1918.
It is still called Armistice Day in France, where most of the fighting was done in that bloody war, and it is a solemn day to remember the costs of war, and those who gave their lives fighting pour la France.
Millions of lives, most of them young lives, have been lost in battle. Every veteran killed has family and friends who mourn that loss. Every veteran who managed to come home came home forever changed, and chastened by what they saw and experienced at war.
Almost all of us regret the loss of the talent, courage, and promise that went into the graves with those young lives.
Today we pay tribute to them, and honor the sacrifices they made to protect freedom, decency, democracy. We can never thank them enough. We can only do all we can, each of us, to find ways to protect and honor those same ideals.
Missing in Action, Presumed Dead August 1944
Two of my uncles lived long and honorable lives after their military service in World War II. You can read their war stories in the links provided.
These sacrifices have not been forgotten in France. Let’s not any of us forget.
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.
The Least Boring Summer EVER!
I must say as an American who lives in France I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more exciting summer in both places. In fact exciting things have been happening on both sides of the ocean at such a pace that every time I thought about trying to write a post about it I wouldn’t know where to start. So for a while I just didn’t write anything.
Now, with a couple of months having lapsed, you will get the condensed version. Sometimes that is best. 🙂
First of all, in June/early July there were the snap elections in France, which were initially nail-biting, and ultimately both surprising and joyous, at least for people not on the far right on France. I think here I will refer you to Sara Somers, who wrote quite a nice summary of this very complicated (and very interesting) political situation. https://sarasomers.com/2024/07/09/cest-ouf-or-what-the-heck-happened-in-france/
Of course the controversy and the complications have not gone away–they have just been pushed aside and postponed by President Emmanuel Macron, who is using the Olympics as a good reason (or excuse, depending on your political views) for keeping his government in place until after the Olympics, since his government has now been discredited and he does not want to accept the choice for prime minister that the Nouveau Front Populaire (a coalition of leftist groups, and the winner of the most votes) has put forward. However, at some point he will have to choose a new prime minister. So: Stay tuned!
Here we switch the stage for a moment to a much more limited venue: our home in Essoyes, where on July 20 we had a wonderful birthday celebration for one of my sons. It was a beautiful evening (except for the storm that chased us all inside when we had planned to eat on the terrace; but actually the storm was quite beautiful also, just a bit wet. As storms tend to be.)
In fact it was the wetness of the evening that caused an unfortunate bit of drama, fortunately after a joyful celebration had been had, and our guests had left. As I approached the skylight window in our upstairs bathroom with the intention of closing it so that the pouring rain would not come in, I did not notice that the rain had already come in, in abundance; and that, as a consequence, the floor beneath the window was VERY slippery. And so I did something I had never before done in my life; I did the splits, meaning I went from a standing position to an on-the-floor position, with one leg all the way in front of me and the other one behind, quite suddenly. (See photo below for what doing the splits looks like when it is done by someone who knows what they’re doing and has trained for it for years, and warmed up thoroughly before trying it. Needless to say it did not look at all like that when I did it, and there are (blessedly) no photographs of my “Olympic” feat to show you. Trust me. You wouldn’t want to see it…)
I’ll spare you the gory details of what we have taken to calling The Incident in our home; I’ll just give you a few highlights:
- The emergency medical technicians who came to help me get up from the floor (and decided I needed to go the hospital, and took me there) were super-professional, highly competent, and very kind. Gratitude!!
- The official diagnosis, eventually, was déchirure ischiojambiers. (In English, a torn hamstring. As usual, everything sounds better in French; but it doesn’t feel any better.) Never done that before. Don’t recommend it! 😦
- My sons, and my son’s girlfriend, came with me to the hospital and spent all night with me in the ER. They are the best. (I knew that already, but that night just was more proof of it. More gratitude!)
- Healing from this kind of injury takes time. And patience. But of course, as painful and annoying as it was, it could been so much worse. More cause for gratitude.
- Moral of the story: When closing an overhead window against the rain be sure to check under the window to make sure it is not slippery before proceeding. (!!!) Duh. (You’d think…oh, never mind…)
Now, with my déchirure ischiojambiers I was limited to trying to find a comfortable position from which to apply ice to my throbbing thigh every few hours, hobble around every few hours also, so as to not lose the ability to walk at all, and figure out what else to do with my time.
Et voila! The very day after my gymnastic feat on the bathroom floor, Joe Biden announced that he was withdrawing from the US presidential race, and endorsed his VP, Kamala Harris, to run in his place. And this one thing seems to have injected what was a very moribund, depressing, concerning election year into something genuinely exciting and hopeful. (One observer in Paris noted that the announcement of the news in some public place he was in was met first with a general gasp, then a great cheer.)
To me it feels like perhaps the tide is turning, away from a frightening drifting into fascism, and back to hope for the revitalization of democracy in our country. I certainly hope so. It isn’t going to be easy: there are powerful vested interests that definitely do not want this to happen, and the mainstream media has not been helping matters. In a democracy the power rests ultimately with the people–but to benefit from that power, the people must be willing to take responsibility for using it in a constructive way.
Anyway. We had only a few days to focus primarily on this very exciting news. Now it was time for the Paris Olympics!
I will not go into a whole diatribe about the various reasons the Olympics was quite controversial; it was quite controversial, and for some very good reasons. (And most of the reasons apply to the whole general idea of how Olympics anywhere are handled, and the question of whether it is really a good idea for us to be hosting events anymore that involve people traveling by air for such long distances in such large numbers. We do have something of a climate situation on this planet that we seem to keep forgetting about…) One of my sons even wrote a song about this: https://www.instagram.com/p/C99-gRIM_e7/
Having said all that, despite all the controversy the Opening Ceremony in Paris, on the Seine River, was carried out with typically magnificent French intelligence/style/boldness/panache, I dunno, you find more adjectives, there are so many that apply. In short, it was spectacular and amazing, and it pretty much blew everyone away. (Some in a good way, some in a not-so-good way. 🙂 )You can read about it here, among many other places you can read about it. I just happened to find this particular report very interesting. https://walkparis.substack.com/p/the-whole-ceremony-was-very-you (NB: The post is long. It’s worth reading. Sit down, be ready to spend a little time reading it, don’t skim, and learn a LOT (not in just the Part One, but the Part Two that follows).
The Opening Ceremony itself also became quite the controversy, with “woke” people very happy with its message of multiculturalism/diversity/inclusion/avant-gardism etc.–and people on the right and far-right not happy at all. In my opinion, no matter what your politics are it’s worth watching, and if you are in France, you can watch the whole thing here https://www.france.tv/france-2/ceremonie-d-ouverture-des-jeux-olympiques-paris-2024/ I’m not sure how you watch it anywhere else, but I hope you can do so. (Not necessarily the whole four hours (!) surely there must be a way to watch highlights only…)
Aside from the controversies I have to say that from what I have seen from a distance, in clips on television, social media, etc, it looks like the Paris Olympics have been on the whole a very joyous affair. It looks like something worth doing, bringing all these people together. Giving attention and credit to and admiration for the athletes who have worked so hard to excel. Celebrating the beauty of Paris and joining in the joie de vivre of the French people that is sometimes eclipsed by their tendency to complain a lot, but always there, ready to burst forth with heartfelt, heart-on-sleeve emotion given half a chance. There have been many touching moments to enjoy, moments that inspire a feeling of affection for humanity to begin to rise again; and it has been especially nice to see the French people so happy with the way their city has shown the world just how wonderful Paris is and can be.
The Olympics are still underway for another week, and it sounds like aside from the Metro being a mess, things are going pretty well. I hope they will continue to do so.
Such a whirl of excitement this year that I have not even mentioned the fact that for the fourth time in the past 15 years the Tour de France passed through Essoyes on July 7. That was fun and exciting too!
Meanwhile, some things go on pretty much the same from year to year, when the gods (of weather, war, etc) are smiling on us. The farmers plant winter wheat in the fall, and harvest it the next summer. The vignerons tend to their crop all year long, and harvest the grapes in the late summer/early fall. It has been quietly busy here with the grain harvests (colza, wheat) nearing completion, and another one (grapes) soon to begin. Through all this drama in the world at large and in our home I’ve been enjoying watching the farmer harvest his crops in the fields next to our house, as he does every year; and the sound of the enjambeurs heading into the vineyards in the early mornings.
All around the world we count on the ongoing labor of farmers to tend the earth so that we can eat. And enjoy the fruit of the vine.
Gratitude.
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.
What Is Going On In France?
Well, in the end, it’s mostly good news, since Sunday. Here’s a wonderful summary of recent political events from my friend Sara.
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.
Remembering France Under Occupation
This year marks the 80th anniversary of the liberation of France after four years of Nazi Occupation (from 1940-44).
There will be much attention paid to the events that brought about this liberation in the months to come–particularly during the months of June (in commemoration of D-Day) and August (the liberation of Paris and other parts of France).
I’m marking this anniversary in my own way by (finally) watching the incredibly engaging, often difficult-to-watch (but very worth watching) TV series, Un Village Francais.
The series is great preparation for my next class for Politics & Prose bookstore in Washington DC, which is designed to give participants a deeper sense of what those years were like for the French people, by reading and discussing three literary texts. The class is open to anyone: if you’re interested, here’s more information about it, and how you can register.
It was a truly international effort that brought about the liberation of France. In my next post I’ll be telling the story of one brave young Canadian pilot who played a heroic role in that struggle. Stay tuned!
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.
Demystifying the French: A Bicultural Conversation
I’m thrilled that my friend Edith de Belleville will join me online to discuss Franco-American cultural differences, thanks to the wonderful Federation of Alliances Françaises USA.
This is the fourth in their series of Zoom events on Demystifying the French; and I thought it was about time we hear from someone on the other side of the cultural divide. Don’t you agree?
And I can’t think of a better person than Edith to do it. Want to learn more? Click on this link.
It’s February 17, it’s free, and I feel quite sure it’s going to be a lively discussion. I hope you’ll join us!
PS If you missed the live program and would like to see it, you can view the recording here.
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.
Writing from the Heart, Reading for the Road 