At best she’s ready to call it a bittersweet adventure. It had started with artistic ennui. A quiet uneasy discontent. Boredom with the rain, gloomy skies and dark days. Daydreaming of escaping the reality of city life, a fresh start in sunny rural France. Worried that the emptiness would turn into a dark poetic depression, she took the plunge and moved to Lescure.
It’s not that it’s been a rude awakening. The people are nice enough and the job is much the same as it was in her regal residence in The Hague: supporting an antique washbasin so guests can wash their hands in style. Most of the time she’s brimming with hope and optimism – she loves the brass ring that was custom-made for her by the local plumber and the water connection should be fixed any day soon now. Still, life in France is not the utopia of sipping chilled white wine under a shady tree. It’s cold and wet here too, sometimes for long periods. At times, she’s struggling to communicate in a foreign language and there’s the mind-numbing administration. Looking at her, I suspect she’s hurting as she winds her way through troubled thoughts. Like all sensitive souls she will have to accept that blue moods are part of her beauty and greatness, wherever she decides to live. If it’s any comfort to her, I’m thrilled that she joined us here at Lescure. I find her absolutely stunning and her soft face textured with melancholy moves me every time I see it.