Raoul Dufy and me, Erica Huber; an inspiring encounter.

Raoul Dufy and me, Erica Huber; an inspiring encounter.

On an evening stroll near my neighborhood, I passed the window of a large secondhand shop. Right up against the glass stood a huge painting that looked familiar. I immediately fell in love with the lines and the monochrome color; especially the bright blue. Even though it was already late with the sun setting, I took a picture.

A few weeks later, I walked past that window again. Pleasantly surprised, I saw the painting still there. I enjoyed it again. The image stayed with me, and I realized it must be by Raoul Dufy. The great inspiration for artists like Walasse Ting, cartoonists like Saul Steinberg, and many, many modern book illustrators. As the most influential fabric designer, he literally and figuratively left his mark on the fashion world of the first half of the 20th century. (See the images.)

A week later, my beloved had to go to the shop next door. By then, I knew I'd regret not doing anything with that painting. However, it was incredibly large, and as a painter, our house is already full of paintings. Still, I asked him to inquire about the price and, if reasonable, to take it.

And yes! He'd inquired, haggled about the price because of the damage to the frame, and gotten it for a good one. When back home, it turned out to be a huge poster, beautifully framed in wood and behind glass, weighing a ton. Enormous in our small living room. And also incredibly blue! After looking at it for a while, I decided I wanted more expression for this image. I only wanted to add color to the areas outside the windows. But then again, it was behind glass. And is it actually ethical to paint in another painter's work? Moreover, a painter long dead. He couldn't have any objection if he wanted to.

Like so many people these days, I meditate daily. And I've noticed that if I have issues and formulate the problem well in a question, I can get surprising and very useful answers. During a meditation, I decided to try asking Mr. Raoul Dufy.

The answer came immediately and clearly: "Yes, dear colleague, feel free to do so!"

This would be a kind of collaboration across the boundaries of life and death. Very special indeed. I suggested it to him, and his enthusiastic response was again clear and direct: "Cool!! Do it!!" (Or "Nickel!", Cool in French...)

Wow, fantastic! I felt delighted and over the moon!

But yes, that glass plate. Paintings are never behind glass. People want to be able to feel the paint. Well, I'd decide that later.

Full of confidence, I got started almost immediately. I placed the enormous, heavy thing, 127 x 103 cm, facedown on the dining table. Lengthwise it fit, but widthwise it extended 10 cm over the table edges on both sides.

On the back, I found a hundred thousand staples. I pried the staples out on three sides with a screwdriver and pliers, thinking I could then slide the picture out. Unfortunately, I found even more cardboard with countless nails all around it, to secure the picture and the glass in the gold-colored frame. That explained the thing's weight.

To continue, I would also have to remove the last side with the staples. To get a better grip, I slid the whole thing a bit to the left, and then... CRACK!! !! Oh no... it had slid over the edge of the table and the glass was broken... What a disaster! Sigh... how could I do that?!

Well, the glass dilemma seemed to be resolved... with painting now even more clearly the intention.

After all the tidying up, I could finally move on. Interiors have fascinated me since childhood. The intimate atmosphere and how light plays with all the shapes and colors. This summer, I was once again captivated by how the sunlight illuminated and connected everything in my living room. Yet, this wasn't originally my painting, so I only wanted to change the bare minimum.

Colored edges had appeared under the frame. I searched online to see what the original had looked like. With little effort, I found images of Interieur à Deux Fenetres à Nice. It was originally a lithograph, 65.3 by 54 cm, in strong red and blue contrasts. Small, and a color scheme that, to be honest, never appealed to me. But anyway, all the red, yellow, and mixed shades were now gone. Only blue and black remained.

My desire was to at least make more visible the difference between inside and outside. "Outside" was missing green, red, orange, and yellow. Because I wanted to change as little as possible, I first explored the possibilities on the iPad. It soon became clear that I didn't want to lose the blue. Blue, that wonderful color of the sea and a summery Southern European sky. I rarely paint it myself. I thought, combined with light yellow, green, and orange, it would bring summer into our home! Holidaytime!

To see what effect it would have on our mood, I decided to keep it in my living room for a winter. Our children were pleasantly surprised. I don't usually hear them rave about my work. Whether I like it that much, well... let's just say variety is the spice of life.

They thought the black lines were very different from my work. And very cool! And yes, I think so too. Still, I won't suddenly let my work shine with black lines from now on. Everyone has their own style. With that idea and Mr. With Raoul Dufy's enthusiasm in mind, I now knew that I could give it my own atmosphere.

My interior ambiance is often warmly toned. From ochre and burnt sienna to ultramarine blue. This work contains a lot of cyan blue. And now also light green, red, and orange. It turned out to be wonderful to work in this painting, to create my own atmosphere within it. To partially alter it according to my color wishes.

I discovered that Raoul Dufy must have painted this painting in the evening light. My version, however, was painted during the day in full sun.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced, from about 50 years ago, of our family getting lost at night driving along the coastline of the most beautiful city ever. Palaces, overhanging rocks... I had never seen anything so beautiful. It was Nice, and I would never forget it!

On Google Maps, I searched for Nice, the boulevard... the bays... And yes, there I actually saw the house from which this image must have been painted! 9 Quai Rauba Capeu, Nice. The balcony railing, the two balcony doors... How cool... and it turns out it's a holiday home for rent too!! Okay, it's quite pricey. But how special and wonderful it would be if I could one day paint the Baie des Anges from that same apartment!!

He was probably friends with Brigitte Bardot back then. Together with seafood, a glass of wine with grapes, and the most delicious cheeses... dream, dream. That's how I'll get through the winter!

When I look up when he painted this, I come up with a date somewhere between 1925 and 1938. So, with a little good will, Mr. Raoul Dufy and I have now connected not only across the boundaries of life and death, but also across the century!

Finally, last week I came across this long-kept postcard from my enthusiastic mother-in-law, who passed away three years ago. She sent it to me 10 years ago. Is this a precious coincidence or what? The postcard is from her visit to the Dufy exhibition at the Singer in Laren, which lasted until January 11, 2015. I undeniably experience a sense of special support and connection in this story! I let my intuition guide me and it took some effort, but wow, it brought me so much beauty!

I'm so happy with the process and the end result of this collaboration. I felt I want to share it with you. 💫