POMPOSA'S PROVINCIAL, PROVISIONAL PALACE

Earlier this week, a lovely gentleman known here as pomposa (Yes, it's tongue-in-cheek) was kind enough to share photographs of his home in rural France. The photo you see above was particularly appealing: sunny, unstudied, cozy, improvised, casual, light, welcoming, textured, playful, and eclectic. The old plaster walls and lovely latched windows make a warm backdrop for the gentle chaos that pervades the space, which is peppered with unassuming couches and mirrors, lending a humble charm that more grand, exquisite items wouldn't. It's tasteful, not tight; comfy, not correct.

(A short aside: when I say 'tasteful,' I mean the kind of laid-back taste that gently tweaks the nose of convention with art and wit. The safe, bland, predictable, vulgar, plodding correctness of herd-minded conventional taste is rarely ever truly good taste--it's no taste, a thing far worse than bad taste, which at least has the occasional merit of being delightfully exuberant. Rant over!)

My hope is that my own mannered surroundings will over time become more lived-in and gracious like this. In fact, that's always been my plan: start tight and precious, then let everything loosen into threadbare, slightly rumpled but tidy charm with age (one can tell when this process is inorganic and forced, so I must exercise some patience for the depth of detail and texture to slowly assert itself over time). I've always loved the homes of old people who've led interesting lives, and I aspire to be among them one day (A good book to read in this vein is Conversation with Max by Mr. S. N. Behrman, who interviwed Max Beerbohm often during his last years at his modest but gracious villa in Rapallo, Italy).

The home is modern in the sense that it is a deftly improvised mix of old and new (notice the groovy 70's floor lamp and mid-century electric fan). There's a rhyme going on among it all: look at how the emu skeleton forms a wonderfully surreal tableau with the bright, lush plants at its feet. But like any successful aesthetic undertaking, it remains hard to pin down with any certainty--it's an organic, live room in a continual state of change. This is the rustic home of an urbane man with a nimble mind and a love of creature comforts, as well as creatures. An exemplar of Affected Provincialism--clearly, I've been outdone yet again!

Just look at the wonderful blue plaster against the brown shiny flounder floating over seashells of the most deliciously warm ivory, which create a swirling pattern when grouped together in a procession on the mantle. There's a sensibility at work, but nothing as heavy and methodical as a theory is ever imposed upon us visitors. This isn't calculated, but intuitive--and each tableau is a lovely little world of it's own. The house is full of such moments.






Thank you for sharing with us, pomposa. I'm grateful that I have so many lovely and interesting people who bother to frequent this half-baked journal.

~W