While I was visiting my family in the States, I would occasionally think about Provence and my life in France in order to try and regard it with the blessing of remove. I was surprised by how much I longed for the region itself, for the land and its life. Certainly, it has taken root in my heart and not necessarily due to its more obvious charms, of which there are many. No, just as I used to visit certain paintings in the museums of Manhattan so often that I began to consider them as friends (including several Van Goghs whose landscapes would later become a part of my daily life in Arles), so too certain characteristics here have wooed my attention and become dear to me.
Chief amongst those is patina, the glow of time’s way. I missed it’s imperfections dearly while in Michigan and wondered if its presence gives one a certain permission not to be brighter, faster and stronger but just to be. There is such psychology in our surroundings. I am fairly certain that I have written this before but patina is forgiving. And I love it for that as well as the sheer beauty present within “I endure.”
I know that quite a few of you are impatient to see our new home but she is not yet ready for her close-up. There is a point during every move (and I have been through so many – eight in Manhattan alone, including one that I accomplished solely via subway) when things get much worse just before they get better and we are right in the thick of it. Remi is downstairs sanding the parquet floors and I will have to tackle the boxes in the dressing room as neither of us have anything clean to wear. Each morning I still wake up bone tired, my head in a fog. But oh, how it is worth it. In the quiet of the evenings, I light the candles and we both listen, trying to decipher what the house is telling us to do.
So for now, I hope that you will be contented with two posts featuring some of the details of our new village. I took these photos quite some time ago – long before we had found our house – and have been saving them for our arrival as something of a promise to myself.
And now we are here. Painting and creating traces that will one day become patina of its own.
Your photos create a "web of relationships" that grows within leading to self-understanding and engagement in the "basic pleasures of simple things". The patina expresses an appreciation of a new way of beauty that "endures".
Is it a surprise that patina does that?
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. Once more your have taken me on your journey…I see you upstairs , sorting thru the boxes, while Remi sands the floors. Your descriptions are, as always..picture perfect!
Heather, you are an incredibly talented documenter. I think this taste of your new town before the close-ups of your home is the perfect segue. These images certainly deserve a post in their own right, my dear.
Such nice images of your new village. Nothing quite as exciting (to me anyway), as moving in to a new home that is inviting and charming. The house will speak to you on many levels as you unpack, arrange and settle in with Remi and the puppers!
With so much glass and concrete taking over our city, it is a relief to come to your site and relax into patina and gracious ageing. Thank you. Sending you lots of warm thoughts for the restoration of tired bones and brains.
I love the details
Wabi sabi.
These images are all so imperfectly beautiful… We went last winter to Savannah and saw and walked through one house built in 1840 that is a really quirky antiques store. Nothing, and I mean, nothing has been done to the house. The walls are crumbling, the wood staircase has never been sanded or stained, and the walls show so many different layers of plaster. Needless to say, it is beautiful and the patina surrounds you as you walk through.
We all look forward to following your progress and seeing so many more beautiful images!
May I just say you have a beautiful sister? She obviously loves you very much, as I'm sure you love her. I miss sisterly love and companionship. I'm delighted your move is over…can't wait to see the place!
Undeniably gorgeous, and I have a question for you after you're settled and unpacked. What is that plant growing out of the wall? I have a feeling it's probably drought resistant… xox, V