On natural imperfection

August proved not to be so restful as I had hoped. A vain hope perhaps as our chambre d’hôte was delightfully busy, our guests lovely. Not bad at all for our first season. Though I confess that it was harder work than I had anticipated. We are both exhausted. Hats off to all those who make hosting look and feel so effortless and easy. I now have more of an appreciation of how hard you work. I really wasn’t sure how our season would go. But go splendidly it did. Even the weather behaved itself. Mostly. And thankfully the villainous les moustiques appeared late, albeit in such numbers as to convince les hirondelles that ours is the place to be. The Cat slept. Jean Luc Canard whiled away the warm days at the pond, with only an occasional dispute with a passing pigeon. He strongly disapproves of pigeons. He and the Cat maintain a polite distance, which is, I think, a relief to the frogs. She now menaces them from much further away. And this summer, we got the grass-cutting down to a fine art. Himself constructed a gismo (mulcher?) for the ride-on mower from plywood and an old cat flap which meant that we could spread the grass cuttings much more evenly. Very effective it is too, creating a lovely arc of grass clippings behind the mower as it trundles (me)/races (Himself) across the field. That, and the rain resulted in a wonderful display of wild flowers, a cacophony of cicadas and attracted myriad butterflies and bees and birds. We now have more apples and pears than we know what to do with. Even those trees we thought dead have set fruit, not one of which is perfect. I am busy making relishes, chutneys, crumbles and jams, and other deliciousness. Really, it’s a hard life.

I have finally, finally, even got around to reading… Wabi Sabi: The Japanese art of impermanence by Andrew Juniper and Leonard Koren’s Wabi-Sabi for artists, designers, poets and philosophers. I am endlessly fascinated by Japan, both the country and the culture. It is first on the longish list of places we plan to visit. To me, wabi sabi seems to be a philosophy in keeping with this place and how we live here. For it “seeks the purity of natural imperfection” (Juniper) and the qualities of impermanence, asymmetry and humility. Wabi sabi “offers an aesthetic ideal that uses the uncompromising touch of mortality to focus the mind on the exquisite transient beauty to be found in all things impermanent.” (Juniper) It’s certainly useful to focus the mind on the transient beauty of impermanent things when faced with a collapsed garden wall, yet another hole in the cottage roof, and the bloody remains of the Cat’s fast food first thing in the morning. Seriously though, as a guiding aesthetic language, wabi sabi is perfect for our life here. Himself has even voluntarily relinquished his preference for a right angle and a straight line. Mostly.

“Wabi-sabi is exactly about the delicate balance between the pleasure we get from things and the pleasure we get from freedom from things.”

– Leonard Koren, Wabi-Sabi for artists, designers, poets and philosophers

Wabi sabi philosophy is also, I think, changing my approach to my design work. I have struggled since moving here to harness the creative flow that came to me so readily when I lived closer to a city. It’s not a lack of inspiration. Or indeed a lack of motivation. It is a lack of remembering. I have forgotten how it feels to design and although I have tried, I am failing to recapture it. So I lose interest. I wondered if perhaps it was the medium of expression. I feel the need to use my hands more. So I have ditched my computer and taken up weaving, which allows me to play with texture and colour and pattern. In 3D. And all at the same time. It is totally absorbing, my efforts wildly imperfect, the necessary tension wholly inconsistent. I love it. Mourne textiles my lodestar. I have no doubt I will return to surface print design. But in the meantime, I have given myself permission to stop for a while. Or at least to stop trying so hard.

Other books I enjoyed during my, ahem, holiday include Ros Byam Shaw’s Perfect English Townhouse, full of lovely decorative inspiration. And not just for townhouses. Courier magazine’s Dream Businesses with, ooh, lots of ideas for Le Petit Manoir des Rêves. Helena Kelly’s Jane Austen The Secret Radical. As you may recall, I am a huge Jane Austen fan. I had always known she was a ferocious observer of life, I just hadn’t quite realised how ferocious. And Cat Bohannon’s Eve, which I found totally absorbing and fascinating. And aerating. Eventually, Himself asked me to take a break from it, having endured with enviable equanimity one lecture too many over our evening apéro. Hmmm, yes, Eve really got me going. I now consume her in small doses. Balance is important.

As is harmony. I have changed my mind yet again about the colour for the Salon. The blue refused to sit well with me. Or with the room. Or indeed with Himself, which he hadn’t mentioned at all before I started festooning the walls in yet more swatches. He has since promised to tell me if he doesn’t like my colour choices. I have a tendency to wild colour enthusiasms. Mostly they work. But for some reason I am yet to fathom, this room is posing quite the challenge. Perhaps something lovely and murky by Atelier Ellis will do the trick?  One thing I know will work in the room is a wonderful seaweed print by Superfolk, which has been added to my wishlist, and mentioned in passing, ooh more than once, to Himself. See, totally subtle…

A bientôt