In the painter studio, all covered in wood panelling, time seems suspended. Through the big bay window overlooking green altitude meadows, the Northern light pours her powdery rays all over brushes, palettes, tubes, paint pots, sketched canvasses and rags still wet with linseed oil. The air is fragrant with the heady smell of turpentine mixed with lovely wisps of smoke, honey, woods, tobacco and cedar wood.