THE MASTERPIECE OF YOU
I close my eyes and see her tiny frame standing in the center of such overwhelming brokenness and yet I can also still imagine her smile.
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She was 15 when the bombs turned my Grand-Mère’s streets to rubble. The same streets still lined with ancient buildings scarred with the memories of a harsher existence. The same scars and imperfections I find so captivating now.
I am not unfamiliar with the deconstruction of ceilings, the tearing down of walls. Perhaps my obsession with turning damaged and decaying places into dwellings where peace resides is as much a part of her experience living within me, as it is my own way of making beauty from the hard things of this world.
When my France adventures first began, I would go out of my way to photograph the extraordinary architecture, void of living, breathing life. I waited until the mamas holding hands with their babies would turn the corner, paused until the aged man with the crooked cane would pass.
In that early season of my travels, I viewed humanity as a distraction, not only to what I captured in the image, but to the voices of my ancestor’s whispering to my heart.
I remember when my definition of the “perfect picture” changed—
It was the Frenchman with the baguette perched behind his back,
walking alone down his own cobbled path.
His head is down, maybe watching his step,
more likely absorbed in the longing of a more youthful day.
This nameless grandfather kindred to the age when my Grand-Mère left this earth,
transformed my definition of a masterpiece—
Without need for words, it is soul embodied that describes everything we need to know of place.
Just now I imagine you cooking your holiday meal. What I crave is not the image of the perfect designer kitchen, but you, turning from the stove to fill the room with your warmest smile. Have we forgotten that our countenance permeates the room?
This is what I think we all long for—
Images stripped of posturing and pretense, detailing the kindred experience of an authentic life.
You can search my stories to find ample evidence of my obsession with doors, windows, shutters, and stairs. But what of the faces that bring these inanimate works of art to life?
As I move through their neighborhoods, I remind myself that what I bring is temporary.
Theirs is a life of pressing in, leaving generations of thumb and footprint as invisible brushstrokes, an elusive beauty more felt than seen—
Etched in centuries of coming and going,
in the laying out of lavender sachets in the marketplace,
pressed into dough that forms the daily bread,
perched in windows overlooking bustling streets.
Have you not realized that the “you” in every moment is etched into the landscape? Have you misinterpreted that your actions and your energy go unnoticed and unseen?
When we neglect to acknowledge what we bring to our surroundings, we default to the cookie-cutter versions of someone else’s beautiful life.
Are you living your own expression of a beautiful life?
On the winding streets of my Grand-Mère’s childhood, I came to the revelation that I had elevated what a place looks like over how humans make it feel.
I will never abandon my obsession with the places we build. But over the years I have reimagined [and photographed] what “captivating” really is—
A French designer draped in floral, standing in front of the ancient door to her dress-maker’s shop,
A man named, “Luca,” calling down from his decaying shuttered window box.
A Brocanteur surrounded by vintage treasures, leaning nonchalantly in his chair.
A stone cathedral enveloping two lovers in the promise of, “Until death do us part.”—
Us. Manifested in our environments. Our thumbprints on tables set, trees lit, food served. Embedded in every image, every moment, is the masterpiece of you.
In the end, we are the lovely interiors we seek —the condition of our hearts, the quiet of our spirits, the color of our souls.
NOTES:
Such a busy season. Are we as chaotic and overwhelmed as we look? Are we as distracted and exhausted as we appear?
Growing up it was important to keep up “pretenses” so those around us believed we had perfect lives. We were told to act “as if” nothing was wrong. What I’m speaking of is the exact opposite of pretending. It is the decision to live an authentically elevated life—
Refusing to engage in unedifying conversation,
Believing that how we act in the midst of stress can calm an entire crowd,
Cultivating moments that turn into coveted memories to last throughout the years,
Covering our gatherings in simple prayer.
