France Jodoin

A print of vermillion foot and more i cannot tell
After the novels, after the skirts that trail along the floor
Do i dear eat a peach
Enough to take your step and find your foothold
My dwelling is the shadow of the night

Oils on linen

No gramophones, no telephones and no Citroën
On the hill, on the other side, a storm
Return at the hour of conversation
Return gently at twilight, gently go at dawn
Reveries of childhood
Towards the door we open into the rose garden
Where the merchants were the kings
There is no gramophones, no two-seaters and no citroen
Hidden under the dove's wing
Laughter tinkled among the tea cups
The golden fog that robs its back upon the window panes
Summer laid her supple glove
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet
Put your shoes at the door and prepare for life
Que vous êtes joli! Que vous me semblez beau!
I have known the eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase
Down silent courts and secret passages
I remember a slice of apricot pie and a bitten macaroon
The silken girl bringing sherbet
There is a time for the wind to brake the loosened pane
Inhale the different dawn
Between the ivory gates
Heaven below, heaven above obscured with ruddier blue
Water in the distance nodding approval
The quiet-colored end of evening
If the lady and the gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden
Disturbing the dust in a bowl of rose leaves
Do I dare eat a pear
If it rains, we shall play a game of chess
Squinting a little as automn spills from the skies
They glide like dancers into the wide hall
And the footman sat at the dining table
Be born and think
Butterflies cruising round the purple line
I will make you a palace of blue days at sea
Step lightly on this narrow spot
The murmuring shell of time
The notion of some infinitely gentle thing
Thinking of Whistler's Mother
Tripping by in high-heeled ribboned shoes
Waiting for a knock upon the door
A cloud withdrew from the sky
A sky blue as forget-me-nots
Hope is this thing with feathers
I heard the beat of the centaur's hoofs
My window pane is a garden of frost
Select your own society then shut the door
The uncertain hour before the morning
Through the remembered gate
After the novels and the skirts that trail along the floor
In a wilderness of mirrors
Présence de l'absence
Run softly until i end my song
Such wisdom in the agitated motions of the wind
The days are not long enough
The shade of passing thoughts
Under the fog II
Do I dare eat a peach
Series of sea studies no. 75
Series of sea studies no. 76
Series of sea studies no. 77
I shall wear grey flannel trousers
Time yet for a hundred indecisions
A silver dollar from a whole inside my vest
Thin fading dreams by day
Tempted by the fashionable quays
Shadows hold their breath
Between one June and another September
I remember that time and wish you had sat there
Muddy feet that press to early coffee stands
Put your shoes at the door and prepare for life
Untitled, 2014
No two-seaters, no Citroen, no Rolls-Royce
Pensive while she dreams awake
I shall sit here, serving tea to friends
Hidden under the dove's wing
The jade king and the blue pebbles
Promenade by the sea
Memory stirring with spring rain
Shadows flit and fleet