This is not for the faint of heart.
Leaving peeling walls unfinished. Stains, cracks, the physical reminders of the scars left by time and by previous owners. Not covering up the marks we’re making ourselves as we’re filling the requirements for contemporary living. It’s enough to keep me awake at night and it’s a topic of daily discontent in my discussions with the builders who are understandably proud of their craft. How do we let the previous layers and stories of the estate live on, while allowing a new narrative – our story – to unfold? One moment I find the unfinished spaces really appealing, the next my petty perfectionist takes over and I am determined to add finishing until the very fabric of Lescure’s past has been erased.
Meanwhile, Lescure is at total ease with its blemishes and imperfections, indulging me as I’m feeling my way around the house, adding personal touches of modern design, art and antiques. There’s an intimate beauty to the castle that hides itself right in front of my eyes until I’m ready to calm down. Walk into any of the rooms when dark night gives way to morning, or day turns softly into evening, and there are umpteen scenes to contemplate. Mesmerizing vignettes appear in the softest of light, fleeting beauty, reminders of the impermanence of life. This beauty of now invites me to accept the world, the estate, this house and myself as forever imperfect, unfinished and transient. A melancholy lesson wrapped in tenderness and grace. What a gentle teacher Lescure is.