FINDING FRANCE

The Phillips Collection of Art Bring Normandy to DC

We returned from a trip to France to the news that my cousin has cancer and my mother can no longer walk. These facts all too quickly clouded over glowing memories of our once-a-decade grand vacation.

But, at the Phillips Collection’s “Impressionists by The Sea” exhibit my joy rolls in like the tide. The majestic horizons on the canvases take me back to the coasts of Normandy and Brittany that we visited under October skies, and are now featured in room after room of glorious paintings in the heart of Dupont Circle.

As the docent speaks of the harvesting of clams and muscles by locals whose towns were invaded by the fashionably artistic of the 1880s—amazing to think of a tourist boom back then—I picture my husband and I back on the Brittany coast, walking on the water-gauzy sand at low tide amongst muscular men, bent and clawing for clams at a professional pace, and locals conscientiously digging in anticipation of a feast for weekend guests. The wet beach stretched far out to boats moored for the duration of the ebb, wooden crates astride, mesh bags filling with orbs of clam. The diggers throw clumps of wet sand and clam into wooden boxes and shake them to reveal their shelled prey.

Further out, the lighthouse surrounded by sand and dark mounds of kelp. Here lays the muscle beds and another cadre of pros and locals picking over them. They wear rubber boots, leggings or full gear. Bicycles with baskets for hauling in a weekend feast lie in the wet sand. Dogs chase seagulls against a back dropped that stretches across the globe to the side of the Atlantic--the one I am more familiar with.

Back on dry shore, a line of horseback riders cross the silvery scene, in front of the morning sun, darkened silhouettes of rider and horse. Benches on the strand fill and empy with old folks. No parasols or ladies in full length dresses and veils; no tents for changing into bathing dresses as featured in the Impressionists’ paintings, but much else the same.

With the help of the Phillips’ wall-to-wall French coastlines, I’ve restored my vacation memories, and stoked my hopes to return to France. No matter the falling dollar, I can always live on those cheap but fabulous French pastries or join the locals and harvest muscles and clams myself. It’s wonderful what a day at the beach in November can do for you.

Essay by Rosie Dempsey