Monday, August 22, 2011

Wet days, a mountain view, and the progress of love

Hard to imagine, perhaps, but one of the most beautiful aspects, to me, of the Frick Collection, is the muted murmur, the continuous crackle and creak underfoot, of the wooden floors. On a rainy day, as it was a couple of Sundays ago, that softest of sounds had but one counterpart in the soft splash and plop of rain on leaf and pond - the sound of introversion and contemplation - in Russell Page's beautiful courtyard garden, itself a reflection of the court at the centre of the museum which, in its turn, is nothing more than the atrium with its peristyle and impluvium of Ancient Rome.  

The night before we'd talked at dinner, the four of us, about second homes - for me enticing but for the Celt, a not-so-captivating idea. For our friends, two men from London, a second home was nothing more than an extra expense, extra responsibility, etc., a dismissal so heartfelt and final I was glad I was old or wise enough not to argue. I understand all the arguments against such an establishment but, much in the way the Frick's courtyard garden attracted me because of its sense of enclosure and separation from the noise of the city, so does a small place - a recourse rather than ivory tower - surrounded by woodland, within the sound, if not the sight, of falling water, blind to the road but open to a courtyard that captures, each in its season, the fall of sun, moon, rain, snow and leaf.


Another drenching storm had passed when, last weekend, we drove up the steep and winding road to the great white house atop a mountain in North Carolina. A weekend house filled with elegantly dressed people invited to meet two of the the Million Dollar Decorators, and from which the mist-softened panorama of the wooded slopes of the Appalachians came as such a beautiful surprise. To stand, even for a few minutes, under a sky no longer ominous but still flickering with lightening, deaf to all around and looking at a view so rare, was the most invigorating of moments.


It is hard to say how many times over the years I have visited the Frick but it has never palled. The Fragonard Room, in which his The Progress of Love is arrayed, is the perfect room in which to while away a book-riddled hour or two on a dim, wet and fire-lit day. These paintings, at the end of the 18th century, having been rejected by Madame du Barry, came to hang in Fragonard's cousin's house in Grasse. This reminds me, as an aside, that Roderick Cameron described Charles de Noailles, who had a villa and garden in Grasse, as one of the world's great gardeners - a compliment indeed from such a talented man as Cameron.

Our two friends from London, and this is their progress of love, asked us to go with them the following Monday to the Office of the City Clerk in Manhattan and witness their wedding - which we did, in the lavender-decorated ceremony room. I'm pleased to say that neither the color scheme nor the continuing rain dampened their ardor.

Photograph (cropped) of Finnish cabin from 1609 by Paul Wistman, accompanying text by Klaus Eriksen, for The World of Interiors, January 1986.

Image of Fragonard's The Lover Crowned from Wikipedia Commons.

12 comments:

  1. I know exactly what you mean about the creak and crackle of wooden floors. It always enticed me to imagine which footsteps have lightly stepped and perhaps danced upon a floor that speaks it history so audibly.

    And there I was, ensconced in this most serious of descriptions, until I got to the lavender room. I had to burst out into peals of laughter at your beautiful observation that not even such a colour could "dampen their ardour". Deliciously written, as usual!

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  2. As a student, I was fortunate to meet the Vicomte de Noailles when my class visited his other just-as-remarkable garden at Fontainebleau (now for sale).

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  3. Yes, love that museum so much -the atmosphere of money I always say LOL. Hushed, quiet and cool.
    Congratulations to your friends! So nice of you to be there for them.

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  4. blue fruit, thank you. You're right about other feet, other times, being part of the voice of the floor. Lovely image, thank you.

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  5. The Devoted Classicist, thank you. Those were the days of real "study abroad" and intelligent field trips. To have met such a man .... !

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  6. Architect Design, thank you. The Frick is my favorite museum though that Sunday we were there it was absolutely heaving with damp tourists. We've known one of those friends over thirty years and it seemed right, standing witness for them both - and it was a happy day made happier by a champagne breakfast in Chelsea. It might be our turn soon.

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  7. And what a wonderful Saturday evening that was in Cashiers. Loved seeing both of you.

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  8. And what a wonderful Saturday evening that was in Cashiers. Loved seeing both of you.

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  9. Second houses came into my life rather recently because I could afford it. My home in Bethesda Maryland is modest. My second home is Tucson Arizona is modest with a pool. The sun shines 360 days a year there and in winter that sounded really good to me. My third house is in Charlottesville Virginia on 58 acres of forest. I'm in the process of building it at present. It is a log cabin in the western style with saddle notched horizontal logs that are available on site. Each home provides a different element of life that wakes up my sensibilities and makes me interested in embracing the local culture. When I go down to Charlottesville to help with the construction I live in a camper trailer. There are no utilities on site - no water, no electricity. Roughing it is what its all about at present. While I kind of enjoy being thrown back on my resources I would not want a steady diet of it.

    I have enjoyed you blog for quite a while - keep up the good work. Ann

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  10. Anonymous, thank you! I agree it was a wonderful evening.

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  11. Anonymous (Ann) thank you. 58 acres of forest sounds with a log - I hesitate to call it a cabin - house sounds like bliss to me. May you have much pleasure in it! Roughing it for a day or two is fine but I'm too effete for longer than that. My dream is a contemporary prefab amid acres of forest.

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  12. What a lovely finale to the post---and how lucky all of you to share it

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