In the Studio…
Whenever I feel like it is time to press the reset button, to take a timeout from whatever I am doing, I do one of two things.
I either take a walk across our fields and into the woods, listening to a book, or I come to my studio and look for something to ground myself. It doesn’t take much. It often starts with a good playlist.
This week I am loving the music of a Canadian classical violinist, Angèle Dubeau. Light classical music works wonders for clearing the mind. I grab my camera and wander into the moment, whatever catches my eye, as you can see in the collection of photos above.
Lately, it has been my mood board, a small stack of books, and leaning into my vintage traveling chaise. A travel memory from our years living in Surrey, England.
My vintage chaise and I have history. A special kind.
When we lived in Surrey and London was a twenty-minute train ride from our little village of Esher, I set off into London in search of a sofa. As organized as I was, I managed to do what I often do in cities, I got lost.
That usually is rarely a bad thing. In my mind, adventure usually follows.
I found myself wandering the streets of Parsons Green when I became smitten with a bicycle. Just beyond it stood the most extraordinary building, vintage furniture piled high inside and out. It felt like one big vast jumble sale of magnificent proportions. Potential was written over every piece. If I could have filled a forty-foot container, I would have.
I walked deep into the dark recesses of the building, and that is when I spotted it, my magic carpet ride.
I once wrote on a blog post:
No matter that it was torn here and there, patched to no end. I took one look and the chaise instantly transported me to every country I had ever traveled to in our expat life.
Forget the sofa.
The chaise was coming home with me.
And it did.
Not a day goes by that I do not appreciate getting lost in Parsons Green.
Over the years, some people have suggested I get over the nostalgia, say farewell to the fabric, and start anew. Comments like that make me quietly question the relationship. I still love ever tattered piece of it, and where it takes me in my traveling mind.
If you spotted a few books in the photos above that caught your eye, here they are:
The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng.
I should qualify this one. I was first gifted The House of Doors, which I absolutely loved. I quickly moved onto The Gift of Rain and The Garden of Evening Mists. I patiently await his next book.
American Wildflowers: A Literary Field Guide
A beautiful book for the gardener in your life. illustrated and thoughtful, it is a “collection of poems, essays, and letters from the 1700’s to the present that focus on wildflowers, their place in our culture and the natural world.”
Curate: Inspiration for an Individual Home by Ali Heath and Lynda Gardener An essential styling guide at Tahilla Farm. Everything about it says yes to me.
How to French Country by Sara Slim.
Color and design inspiration from southwest France. I am inspired by all her work. This is a beautiful book.
Coming Home to Nature: The French Art of Countrification
A wonderful collaboration between Estelle Marandon, Gesa Hansen and Charlotte Huguet. “Life in the countryside takes adjustment and there is much to be learned.” They give joyful meaning to the art of countrification.
And those, my friends, are my afternoon thoughts, shared from my traveling chaise in the studio at Tahilla Farm. :))
Jeanne xx
