Sweep out the cobwebs, shake out those shadows. Sometimes we need to go right back to where we started.
In Arles, after moving in and wandering the cross-caught streets, I fell fast in love with the tales of its shutters and doors. Cliché, absolutely, and some would say that I should now move beyond those facile waters…but…but…there was a day, not so long ago, when the sky was so blue that it tricked me back to the beginning of seeing one street as I had in the before of before, allowing me to dip in just one more time.
Instead of hurrying along the far too narrow sidewalk, I stepped out into the rue de l’Amphithéâtre, camera in hand and lifted. I had easily half an hour to spare before my doctor’s appointment. All was quiet, the tourists still sleeping. The light was flirting. A passer-by gave me a slight nod of recognition, someone else from the center of town. I love Arles before showtime. When history stretches and yawns before settling in to be admired.
Now I can add my own little histories to its two-thousand some years that are more patient than I will ever be. On this particular stretch alone I remember…my mom and I struggling with our suitcases on the bumpy pavement against a winter Mistral wind on an early descent from Paris to visit an apartment that would not work out. Being invited to a party where rooms opened upon rooms until fading into darkness and everyone was trying too hard to be casual. Pulling Ben and Kipling out of the way of a roaring car, music blaring, with only inches to spare. Perfect imperfect these memories, just like the patina scribbled on the surrounding walls for all to see. No need for them right now.
So I snapped back, quite literally with a click-click, present-bound and looked without judging and felt a tiny lift of joy without judgement too. The worn faces above the doorways winked conspiratorially before I turned into the shade of an alley, a short-cut but also a window closing. It is funny that it is no longer one of the more fashionable streets to live on, despite leading directly to the Arena (or maybe because of it); it clearly once was and perhaps will be again. Sometimes, we need to go right back to where we started.
How utterly beautiful, Heather. Your photography is stunning. Those colors and the carved stone doorways are so evocative and it's lovely to read about what they mean to you.
The train from Paris, where I then lived, to my first visit to Arles and off to Hôtel de l'Amphithéâtre , on your street. Lily of the Valley sprigs in place, we put down our bags and walked just yards to the wonderful welcome: the May First events in the Amphithéâtre. A long time ago, but with your wonderful photos Heather, almost on the eve of May 1st, it's as fresh as yesterday. merci.
Heather,
As always, such gorgeous photos. Evocative, character filled, with much promise of story telling in each image.
You take Ben and Kipling with you when you go to the big smoke? I guess it has memories for them too!
Enjoyed this blog post.
Cheers,
Deb C – Melbourne
Hello Heather…I saw your comment before mine on Contessa's post and thought it's a long time since we've chatted via our blogs…and reading your post, I so agree, sometimes we need to go back to where we started…life gains a pace at times and we just need to slow down and just be…wishing you a very happy weekend. Love from the UK xx
We never tire of seeing your Arles photos – there is so much to love in them! Always a new discovery – is that a monkey face? And I agree with the first commenter; I think I've always delighted in every cobblestone and patina in Europe but frequently ignored beauty in other places – NYC which was my home forever! Now I actively appreciate my country living; since we spent part of our youth in the country, maybe I have gone back to where I started? Lovely concept – gives one hope!
Very beautiful piece of writing, Heather. A real "Lost in Arles" again! But also short cuts of "looking back". Reflections of the sun.
Just in time, as you know I was doing a lot of thinking about Arles today. And of course I would LOVE Arles before showtime. BEFORE showtime is the most exciting time to me.
All ways lead to Arles?
You know that name of the blue that the shutters are painted in? I can't google it. Is it that French Blue that was used before Indigo was invented or found?
Thank you for taking us along again!
During those quiet hours, like when the roses are just buds, it’s wonderful to walk with the mind just walking, eyes observing and not observing but then you see closed doors like questions unanswered and “sometimes, we need to go right back to where we started.”
I like the photos of the doors of different shapes and colors, the winetered ivies that look like a crucific with blue shutters one on each side and your accompanying text.
Love the orange and aqua…. always good to take a fresh look at old places — and even better when you take us along with you!
Gorgeous! I absolutely love that deep dark golden green. Why do I only seem to notice that color as French on your blog? I love blue shutters of course but it's nice to see green.
Hi Heather, such beautiful words and fantastic photos. I wonder, do you think we see streets differently, as we are foreigners, do we view them with a more romantic notion perhaps? Personally I think we do, or rather I should say I think I do! I love the door of number 23, I would happily call that my front door and fall in love with it over and over again every time I entered the house! Susan x