MAY STUDIO NEWS
At the door of my French atelier
Welcome to MY Monthly Newsletter!
This month, I’m opening a little window into my time at La Porte Peinte — an artist residency nestled within the medieval village of Noyers, in the heart of Burgundy. It was a week shaped by gentle rituals: walking through a garden to a studio at the edge of spring, noticing the rhythm of old stone houses, and watching the weather roll across wide, green fields.
During that time, I created two series of works on paper — one series explores Burgundy’s atmospheric landscapes — misty, earthy, and layered. The other bursts with abstract florals — bold and bright, echoing the French Spring flowers that surprised me daily.
There’s also a single A3 collage, a still life that gathers all the fragments of my stay into one moment on paper.
Each piece feels like a keepsake from that place — and now they’re here, waiting to travel onwards.
French Flowers in Striped Jug - Mixed Paper Collage on 350gsm Watercolour Paper, 42 × 29.7cm - A3 available here
FROM MY FRENCH TRAVEL DIARY
My life-long friend Judy Robb and me in Paris, ready for our great big French Art Adventure
LA PORTE PEINTE, NOYERS, BURGUNDY
DAY 1: It feels a little indulgent, I’ll admit—
treating Paris as a mere stopover en route to a tiny Burgundy town with fewer than a thousand people. But Noyers awaits, and for now, Paris is the pause I needed between sky and countryside.
Landing in the morning, I had only the afternoon and early evening to soak in the city before jet lag inevitably took hold. So I gave myself a simple goal: walk along the Seine from Gare de Lyon to the Paris Opera, and let the city do the rest.
It’s a route that sounds romantic on paper—and in Paris, it totally is. I passed Notre-Dame, still harnessed in scaffold but no less magnificent. The cathedral’s silent endurance somehow made its presence even more moving. From there, I wandered through the Tuileries Gardens, where, due to the Paris public holiday, tourists had taken over, and then skirted the Louvre, resisting the pull of its pyramids (next time, I promised myself).
Down the Rue de Rivoli I went, the late afternoon light turning the city’s famous façades into soft white gold, until I arrived at the Grand Café Capucines. A Belle Époque institution—built in 1875 (and, I suspect, not so gently renovated around 1975)—it was the perfect place to meet someone who feels like family.
Judy and I go way back. Clemton Park kindergarten—who would have thought that two five-year-olds playing hopscotch in suburban Sydney would be dining together in Paris 57 years later? Life surprises you magnificently like that.
Along with Judy’s husband and son, we shared old memories, gossiped and laughed like teenagers, and toasted to everything: Paris, friendship, and the joy of finding each other again in a city that has inspired artists and dreamers for centuries.
Despite the long-haul flight, I felt light on my feet all day. The beauty of Paris, it turns out, is stronger than fatigue.
Tomorrow: Noyers, and the quiet beauty of the French countryside. But tonight, it’s Paris that’s lingering in my heart.
Outside La Porte Peinte where I’ll stay for the next 7 days
DAY 2: While the rest of my party took the hire car, I went the nostalgic route—
Boarding the SNCF train from Paris Bercy to Tonnerre. A solo journey into Burgundy, with a driver (Françoise) from La Porte Peinte sent to meet me at the other end (thankfully, she did!).
Not a word of English from Françoise, and barely a scrap of French from me—yet we managed a full conversation through hand gestures, smiles, and enthusiastic grunts all the way.
From Tonnerre, it was a picturesque drive through northern Burgundy to the fairytale village of Noyers-sur-Serein. Even saying it feels like a sigh—Noyers. Medieval timber-framed houses, cobbled lanes, curved archways. A folly conjured by the most poetic illustrator.
However, the big show? The sky. Clouds ranged from soft, romantic Fragonard swirls to full-blown Turner drama—sweeping across rolling green hills, bright fields of canola, and slow-turning wind turbines waving me into the village.
Seeing Noyers in person felt like slotting the final piece into a jigsaw I’d been building in my head for months. Now I understand where it is in relation to Paris—closer than I’d thought. Think Sydney to Braidwood, for an Aussie frame of reference.
I’m so excited to have arrived! Tonight I’ll sleep beneath 15th-century beams. Tomorrow… exploring Noyers.
Jos, Julie, Fiona and Joy in our light filled French kitchen (this must mean that Judy took the photo)
DAY 3: Noyers is settling into my bones with every passing moment. Our group has arrived, unpacked, and claimed our studios. My atelier is a bright, white space with a large window and a glass door that opens onto a jardin clos—a little wild, and exactly what I needed.
The light here? It’s like something out of a Vermeer painting—soft, streaming through the windows, catching on timber beams. It invites you to change pace: to pick up a sketchbook, sip some tea, or just watch the shadows dance across the floor.
We made it just in time for the village market in the square—even with the rain, the place was brimming with charm. I swear I saw Gérard Depardieu (or his doppelgänger) selling bundles of white asparagus with some serious flair. But the cheese man in his beret stole the show—his selection of cheeses was so perfect, we had to buy and try them then and there.
Across from our place, a woman with flowing dark drapes laid out a treasure trove of vintage jewellery—brass, crystal, and mother-of-pearl glinting in the grey light. A little further, L’Atelier de Poterie sat nestled among tulips and spring blossoms, with handmade ceramics in soft blues and ivories looking so crisp and cool in the rainy light.
We’re quickly realising that La Porte Peinte isn’t just a place to stay—it’s an ecosystem of creativity, in a village that has a way of slowing time. No rush, just light, texture, inspiration—and really, really good cheese.
In front of the le Pavillon des Sources
DAY 4: By now, our little group has found its rhythm—mornings for solo studio time, afternoons for gentle explorations beyond the village gates. It’s the perfect mix of immersion and inspiration, with just enough structure to feel productive, but still loose enough to follow whatever calls you that day. For me, today was about turning all that atmospheric soaking-in into something tangible. After a few days of breathing in Noyers—its skies, its tangled greens, its unexpected blooms—I’d decided to focus on two visual threads: the emotive sweep of the landscape, and those bright, joyful sparks of Spring colour that peek through the green in both wildflowers and cultivated gardens. I started with gel plate monoprinting—evocative skies, soft fields, layers pressed into cold-press watercolour paper. While those dried, I moved on to building texture and tone: making collage painted papers in every green and pink hue I could mix, the softest celadons, the hottest magentas, ready for a special still life collage.
After lunch, we ventured further afield—this time to the Château d’Ancy-le-Franc, about 30 minutes from Noyers. A Renaissance beauty tucked into the countryside, with long canal-like moats and formal gardens that stretch around its symmetrical white-stone grandeur. The rain held off just long enough for a wander. One of the highlights was a moment by the bridge, looking out over the ornamental lake toward the small pavilion—le Pavillon des Sources—perched like a poem in the middle of the water. It’s a folly really, designed to catch the light and the imagination, and it does both beautifully. @designsofjoy managed to capture me there, just taking it in—stone, sky, reflection, and that stillness only places like this seem to offer. We returned to La Porte Peinte in time to let the ideas simmer, ready for tomorrow’s studio session. There’s so much colour and contrast in this part of France—it’s not loud, but it’s persistent. And it’s wonderful that I can take it into my work.
Finding the hidden French landscapes in my gel plate prints
DAY 5: Today was about finding my way—not through the village, but through the layers of paint and paper I laid down yesterday. After a few days of soaking in the landscape, I’d started printing mini abstract vistas using my gel plate—moody greens, soft blues, flashes of olive and white.
This morning, I returned to them with fresh eyes. Where were the rivers hiding? Where might a hill rise or a field stretch out? “A drawing is simply a line going for a walk,” (Paul Klee) —and that’s exactly what I did. I followed the marks and let them show me where the story might be.
My dark hunter greens and viridians had broken up just enough to let little glimmers through. It was time to lean in, emphasise certain lines, scrape back others—see what wanted to be revealed.
It’s not always about making something new—sometimes it’s about really seeing what’s already there. I’m slowing down, working differently this week, letting the marks lead and the ideas unfold. Just following the layers, one mark at a time, curious to see where it all wants to go.
Julie and Fiona, looking “Oh So French“ at Chablis Markets
DAY 6: We’ve had a painting-free day today — a deliberate pause, as it’s our last with our delightful friend Judy Robb, who leaves for St Raphael tomorrow. As luck (and just a little ruthless room envy) would have it, I’ll be moving into her much better room the moment she’s gone. Naturally, I’m still terribly sorry to see her leave... but not that sorry to enjoy her beautiful room overlooking the Village square. We spent a glorious day soaking up the atmosphere — and exceptional produce — at the Chablis Markets, where every stall looked like it had been art-directed by a French Designer with exquisite taste. Afterward, we drifted into Wine Not for a French tapas lunch so good it almost made us forget we still had to pack Judy’s bags.
The real highlight? The spontaneous and deeply questionable purchase of matching berets. Yes, we are total tourists, and yes, we are proud of it. Honestly, if you didn’t buy a beret and eat a baguette in Chablis, were you even in France?
Chablis itself is impossibly pretty — a lacework of cobbled lanes, sleepy stone houses with pale shutters, and cafés that seem to spill out lazily onto the streets, each one more inviting than the last. There's a scent of warm croissants and old stone in the air, mingling with the occasional whiff of fermenting wine from hidden cellars. A few steps in any direction and you’re framed by vineyards that ripple away toward the horizon, each row as precise as a ribbon.
I'm starting to get a real sense of what it might be like to live here — or at least to stay long enough to pretend. I’d still choose Noyers for its pure Medieval magic, but my food shopping would absolutely be done at the Sunday markets in Chablis. The produce is just so unapologetically French: jewel-like strawberries, glossy courgettes, and cheeses that deserve their own exhibition. A girl could get very used to this life — beret, baguette, better room and all.
Working on colourful abstract florals, inspired by the Spring flowers and produce of the Yonne Region - Jardin - available here
DAY 7: Our penultimate day in Noyers — and somehow it felt important to simply be here. To breathe it all in without exhaling, in the hope of keeping some of its beauty stitched inside us, or at least tucked away in spirit.
This is a village small enough to get to know by heart. In just a few short weeks, the characters of Noyers — the butcher, the baker, the potter, the leather worker, the gallery manager, the restaurant manager, the crêpe maker, the antique dealer — have become familiar faces. We’re greeted in the streets now, as though we’ve always been part of the rhythm of this place. I can’t remember another journey where connection came so quickly or so sweetly.
Today, we stayed close. I returned to my little atelier (a word I fully intend to use for my workroom back home from now on) and spent the morning there, surrounded by the soft light and uneven stone. Later, we set out on foot, walking the ring road that encircles Noyers like an embroidered border around a medieval poem — all turrets, leaning rooftops, whimsical gardens, poppies swaying in the warm breeze. Along the way, a quiet lake mirrored the changing sky, with small boats tethered along the banks, farms spilling out into the distance, and vineyards brushing the low hills beyond.
Earlier in the week, under cooler skies, I painted the Burgundy landscapes in their moody, dark greens and broad, cloud-strewn horizons. But today, with the sudden shift into sunshine and heat, I found myself responding differently — leaning into bright, warm florals and collage, letting colour burst onto the canvas in sharp, joyful contrast. It feels right somehow, reflecting the many faces of this beautiful region — from misty mornings to golden afternoons, from Chablis markets to ancient stones and singing cicadas.
Tomorrow, we will say goodbye to Noyers. But today, we soaked it in — every turret, every flower, every friendly bonjour.
DAY 8: Today, as I busily completed work in my little atelier, I found myself quietly asking:
What do I know now that I didn’t know eight days ago?
What will stay with me — the parts that will feed my happiness, the flickers that will continue to fuel my imagination long after I’ve gone?
I didn’t know, for instance, that Burgundy is so profoundly green — wide, panoramic, and soft. This is a landscape that offers space and calm in equal measure. A land completely at ease with itself — and somehow, it makes you feel that way too, even while driving on the other side of the road!
I didn’t know how utterly charismatic and unique French half-timbered houses could be — and living in one here in Noyers has been a revelation. These layered medieval homes twist and turn with timeworn elegance, their staircases winding up through each floor like carved wooden corkscrews, smoothed by centuries of footsteps. Their charm lies not just in their history, but in their humanity — an architecture not of perfection, but of character.
It’s also mind-bending to imagine the generations of inhabitants who lived in the same spaces I now inhabit — four centuries of people adapting to the challenges of their time. The building I’ve stayed and worked in — La Porte Peinte — dates back to the 15th century and was once part of the town’s medieval fortifications. Its name, meaning “The Painted Gate,” refers to the coats of arms that once adorned its panels. Over the centuries, it has transformed many times, and in 2011 became a centre for the arts. The idea that I’ve now added my own brushstrokes — figuratively and literally — to this long, layered story is something I’ll carry home with me.
And I hadn’t realised how light can pour through their old windows — not filtered, but generous. Every room here is bright, full of possibility. I had always thought of old houses as dim and moody. Noyers has changed that completely.
I’ll also remember the friendliness of the people here — the pace they move and work in. Efficient, but never stressed. Welcoming, without effort. It’s a rhythm you can’t help but start to follow.
This has also been the first time I’ve worked in a studio that lay at the end of a garden — a quiet green path leading me to a space that belonged entirely to my work. The rhythm of walking there each morning was its own kind of luxury. And in that garden: lilacs. Real lilacs. I realised I’d never truly seen them before. I’d only handled the silk versions — wired onto 1950’s hats — and thought I knew their shape. But the lilacs here, in every shade from dusky mauve to ice pink, grow in abundance. Their scent drifts through courtyards and lanes — just there, no fuss, all presence. Fragile and stately at once, blooming almost wild across the village.
I’ve already shared the wisteria with you — undoubtedly the showstopper. But there’s something powerful about seeing a flower you thought you knew, and witnessing it at its absolute best. That feels like a privilege.
And I’ll admit that I knew this already — that I’ve got great friends.
But this week deepened that knowing.
We’ve all experienced such joy in watching each other discover something — whether it’s a pheasant posing, comically regal, by the roadside, or a warm village baguette handed to you with a nod.
It’s been a week of noticing.
Of laughing.
Of quietly creating.
Of carrying each other’s delight like it was our own.
And for that, I am truly grateful.
Outside the Medieval Bathhouse of Noyers, overflowing with fragrant wisteria - Noyers’ floral signature
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Hydrangeas Momoyama Bag and Raffal Scarf
Holding up two of my French landscape works on paper - available here
Thank you following my journey from the studio to the French countryside—your support means more than I can say.
Wishing you a gentle, joy-filled Mother’s Day—wherever you are in the world.
Until next time, à bientôt.
Julie x