Freedom

I don't want to bore you all to tears with the nails-on-the-chalkboard screeching about this project. Things are moving forward. Kind of. So for now, I will leave it at that and take a vacation from design/build hell today and meditate on a subject that I have thinking about lately.

Freedom.

Oh, come on. Don't click away to your next bloglines update. Seriously. I am not going on a Palin-style rampage with my own personal take on freedom. What interests me more, and maybe will you as well, are the ways that people from different countries view freedom. Live it. Hunger for it.

Take for example Germany.

I was out for a traditional round of Kaffee und Kuchen in a Hamburg cafè several years ago with a friend. "You know," she said between bites of raspberry strusel cake, "Americans are always talking about how free America is. It's silly. I was there. I don't think it's so free."

I looked into my Milchkaffee, searching for the right tone in the frothed milk. "Well, ok," I moved my head back and forth a bit. "What did you think when you were there?"

"Well, for one thing, try going topless on the beach. You'll get arrested. And for God's sake, don't go topless and drink a beer without a brown paper bag over it. You'll get thrown in the slammer for years!"

Well, not really. But I got her point.

"Americans judge freedom differently," I tried. "See, our country was founded on the principles of religious freedom, since the original settlers were fleeing persecu...." I could see her yawn. I was spouting the contents of my 8th grade history book.

" Right. You are so free. That's why you all get 2 weeks vacation a year and can get fired without notice. Americans are so busy working that they forget to think sometimes. There is no free time! How can that be freedom?"

All of that made me think. What is freedom, really? Is it freedom to create? To practice religion? To have six weeks paid vacation to contemplate your navel? To flash your boobs with a bottle of beer in your hand in broad daylight?

Ok, here's the part where I start making generalizations. Please turn away, you sensitive politically correct types.

If you ask the average middle-of-the-road-centrist European what freedom means to her, she's likely to say something about having more time to spend with family and friends, more time to pursue hobbies, freedom from worry about getting fired, freedom from worry about getting sick and not having care.

That would, I think, mean that the European definition of freedom depends heavily on a regulated system that forces companies to provide said freedom (cough). Companies won't give away free time or guarantee jobs with a contract unless they are forced. Which they are. In Europe.

Freedom dependent on regulation.

Interesting.

If you ask the average middle-of-the-road-centrist American what freedom means to here, she might say that it means being free to pursue the life she wants, the ability to change directions and to learn and to grow and try new things, the freedom to practice or not practice a religion of choice, even Scientology if you can believe it. Health care would play a role. But personal choice, even in the health care question, would remain a central issue.

Which might mean that the American definition depends heavily on a deregulated system that allows for free enterprise, thrives on it in fact, but does not protect the individual or guarantee vacation or benefits or any of those things that Europeans hold dear. Free time is great, but not the high definition of freedom like it is in Europe.

Freedom dependent on lack of regulation, in a system, which by definition, robs people of almost all of their free time, because of the lack of regulation.

Also interesting.

These are completely personal observations based upon the last 16 years of living in Germany and Italy, after having spent my first 35 years in the United States. I find these sort of comparisons compelling. They reveal two vastly different mindsets, neither of which has the hold on the complete definition of the word.

There are common areas. Freedom of movement. Freedom of speech. Freedom of opinion. But there are many other areas that are very diametrically opposed. Which means, essentially, that freedom is relative. It's liquid and flowing. It's not a definite, although many who are locked into their own culture would swear that it is. It's absolute in its subjectivity. Since I am only able to talk about a small part of Europe and the United States with any degree of credibility, it interests me even more to know how cultures outside of these view freedom.

It's one of those subjects where there is no right or wrong. Just opinion.

Anyway, these are the thoughts that come to me as I scrape the dust out of window ledges with my fingernail (ouch) and lay mosaic windowsills.

What do you think about at such moments?

Sunday Morning

Lilacs from 2009 - ours are not even buds yet! Nature is taking its time this year.

What a week. I hope you all had a nice one. This week saw a rollercoaster ride of every emotion in the book. On Monday, flooding rains closed construction down completely, washed out our road. We tried to focus on things inside the rooms, but the driving icy rain made stepping outside not just uncomfortable but painful, as we tried to finish painting and decorating. On Tuesday the rain tapered off and the crew got busy, finishing the stairs and laying the tiles in the new room. Photos to come. I thought about starting gardening work, but with everything so soaked, I would have to wait. Instead we ran around to find floor tiles for the roof terrace and some lamps.

On Wednesday I stopped by our window maker. He had not come up to measure the finished frames. He delivered the good news that he wouldn't be able to make the windows until June, maybe July. They were to be delivered the last week in April. He did not call me; I had to go find out what was going on. Wednesday was spent in a frenzy trying to find a new window and door maker who could produce the goods in half the normal time (we lost four weeks with this window maker. Good grief). We found a reputable firm that had a hole in its production schedule. The gentleman showed up the next morning, measured, and promised to have our windows in in time. He seems trustworthy. But so did the first one.

On Thursday morning, we woke up to a dead telephone and DSL line. There had been worker clearing woods down the road. Apparently someone cut the phone line as well as the trees. Because our cell phone doesn't work under a tree, I had to do a lot of yelling outside because.... when the guys opened the trim tiles to start installing them at the base of the walls in the new room, we realized that the tile company had sent the wrong color. They promised to get us the new color by next Friday. We should have been finished by then. With everything.

We started emptying and re arranging the kitchen furniture, cleaning every corner and preparing it for the season. The changes look good and we're pleased. Thursday was the first night since October that we have not used a wood burning stove.

By Friday morning we still did not have a phone line, but we had the real first day of sun, and worked, cleaned, hauled, painted, spackled, sanded furniture, oiled, waxed. The phone came back on line during the afternoon.

I made the difficult decision not to do a mosaic on the bathroom floor. Because we are so far behind as a result of the weather, I just simply do not have the time to focus on it. I let them roll the room tiles right into the bathroom. It made me a bit sad but I have to think of my own health at this point. I will do the windowsill in there and I also did the large mirror. Doing the mosaic would have meant dedicating this entire weekend to it - and with the level of snow and rains we had, we are where we should have been over three weeks ago. I've learned enough from doing these kinds of projects to know that more important than anything is to stay healthy and strong. Form follows function, in every sense.

On Friday afternoon we visited Franco. We are making peace with the fact that the end is near. We pray that he does not have to suffer. He is our best friend here and has helped us in so many ways. He never, ever asked anything in return. His days with us were a gift. Living here without him is unimaginable. Had it not been for Franco, we are not sure if we could have coped with life here in the beginning. I don't know how it will be going forward without him, but I don't want him to hurt like this. The doctor has said it's a question of weeks now. Spring is Franco's season, the season when the fields are tended, the potatoes planted. Spring without Franco....just the thought of it is like a kick in the heart.

With Domenico's death just behind us and Franco's just around the bend, we work as hard as we can but with the tiredness that extreme grief causes. Every movement is more fatiguing right now. But we move forward because that is what we do. Tiriamo avanti, we pull ahead, as best we can.

For now, we hope for the well being of Franco's family, a finished room, a healthy and happy season for our guests and ourselves. I wish you all a wonderful week.

Renovation: The Stairs, Revisited

The stairs have been finished. I am over the moon about how they came out. The 150 year old tiles look gorgeous. When I get every little bit of grout off of them, I will seal them so that the colors are brilliant, and then the vertical sides of the steps will be painted a soft color.

Farewell to a Friend

Several years back, we were talking to Franco about how we wanted to get to know some of the local dolcetto producers, close to our house. Franco thought about it, and his face lit up. "Let's go visit Domenico, he's right up the hill." And before we knew it, we were in the car and tasting wine in Domenico Botto's living room.

A nicer man you never did meet. We chatted it up, and in the ensuing years, have taken untold numbers of guests to Cascina St. Ubaldo. Domenico's wines are award winning and classic - there was never a guest who did not only fully enjoy the wines, but also the experience and the hospitality. There would always be salami and bread on the table, and his dog Chica would always be the taste tester.

The degustazione would always start in Domenico's living room and then proceed to his cantina where we would taste directly from the barrel. He spent hours with every one of our guests, regardless if they purchased ten cases or one bottle. A wine maker out of passion, whose wines made the DOC for Dolcetto d'Acqui proud. His Brachetto was unforgettable. His blends perfect.

Last week, I had to drive into town to get some provisions. On the way back, the train track was closed so I had to wait. I happened to turn my head to the left and looked at the death notice board.

Domenico Botto, aged 61.

I don't even remember how I got home from there. We called. He passed away from a massive heart attack after our last snow storm. We had just seen him a week or so before, and I had felt he looked tired. We talked about going to dinner together before the start of the season, and about the guests we would be bringing up to visit him this year. We said goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time.

Ciao, caro Domenico. We were so lucky to know you, you dear man. Thank you for every moment we spent together. You were gracious, warm, honest, and kind. And you worked way too hard. Rest easy now.

Jim Lahey's No Knead Bread

I have made the most rockin' bread ever. And by far the easiest. Almost easier than using the breadmaker. This bread is better than any bread I can buy in the bakery, even here in Italy. It is simply that good.

This is going into my rotation of breads for the season. I am going to try a million variations: olives, rosemary, sage, onion, walnuts. Rye, wheat, spelt, oats. You name it. This bread has totally inspired me to try it. The only thing you really need for this bread is time. The dough has to sit 12-20 hours.

Jim Lahey, owner of Sullivan Street Bakery and Co Pizzaria in New York City, published the recipe on his bakery website. For my recipe, I used one cup of regular flour, one cup of whole wheat and one cup of durham wheat semolina.

Here's Jim and Mark Bittman making the bread together back in 2006. I love the part where Jim says that the goal is that everyone has access to this recipe. It confirms the good guy image I have of him, confirmed by my friends - who work for him, have worked with him and who he has supported during turbulent times.

Thanks Jim. There's a B&B on a hill in Italy that has gotten the message loud and clear.

Restoration: To See or Not To See - The Paradox of Old Spaces

Beware those who restore old spaces. The past will reveal itself at the most inopportune moment.

We have been working on the existing rooms, refreshing, painting, hanging new art. A facelift of sorts. Sore backs and necks stretch and reach. The room felt under attack, I am sure of it. Because it defended itself by dropping a huge piece of plaster on my head as I painted.

Now, this has happened to me before. What I had to do was get under the lifted plaster with a putty knife and remove whatever had loosened up. As I scraped, it became evident that someone, many years ago, more than a hundred, had painted the bare walls of the house, trying to make the space more lovely, more livable.

This is a country home. It's not a noble residence. These were farmers, not counts, that lived in these walls. I sat back and look at what had been painted.

Classic small stenciled patterns, carefully applied. Beige, brown, lavender and indigo blue.

What should I do? Replaster? Cover it up? Make it all pretty?

I couldn't. You see, this is not a design project, it is a life project. I must honor the past in order to move on to the future. After I lost the stairs to practicality, how could I just cover up something which revealed itself by falling on my head?

It is the twists and turns in this project that make the journey so interesting. I really, truly, can plan nothing. Things pop up almost on a daily basis, every time we touch something, that force us to change directions.

While I was sitting on the sofa contemplating a farmer's wife stenciling these designs onto her walls in the 1800's, I had a strange, random thought. I wondered if their knees hurt. I wondered what they would think if they knew that almost two hundred years later, someone could go into your knees and correct problems resulting from years of wear and tear on the farm. I wondered what they would think if they knew that people in the future would have their knees and every other body part cut open just because they don't look perfect, whatever that is. And it was at that moment that I new I could never cover up the stencils. That a farmer, or his wife, cared enough to make their space lovely despite cold winters and hot summers and long grape harvests and the fact that they had to cart water up to the house by horse astounds me. That thought has to be honored. I have to incorporate these windows to the past into the room design.

This has brought me to a new way of thinking, these incidents where I must confront the past of this house. We are custodians. We are caretakers. It is our job to take care of it and give what we find over to the next generation, who will hopefully preserve some of what we have done as well. If every generation does this, we can proceed into a future that is rich and multi dimensional, not just pretty and shallow.

Stay tuned for the final result. It won't be as I imagined it. Nothing ever is here. It will be something else.

Which is really ok.

Plumbing 101: Radiant Floor Heating Installation

The very attractive lime green panels are styrofoam insulation for under the tubes.

Spirals of tubes snap into the lego-like panels...

and are attached to the control panel

Lightweight rebar is then placed on top of all of this and 4 cm of cement is poured.

After that, tiles are laid.

Radiant floor heating is the most cost efficient heating system because the water only has to be heated to 38 degrees centigrade (about 95 degrees fahrenheit), instead of 65 degrees centigrade (140 degrees fahrenheit) like normal radiators.

Solar panels are actually capable of heating water to that level and are ideal for radiant floor heating in the shoulder seasons of late fall and early spring.

A Corner Finished

A little corner done!

The sitting room of our Suite, freshly dabbed, the color even deeper and greener than before, new art, a repurposed TV stand. Candles for mood.

Despite setbacks, we are moving ahead, killing our daily to do list, item for item. Today it's about creating a fresh look in the other existing room, adding color to the mix in there and re-doing the art work.

People ask me all the time why I am changing the rooms when they are already perfectly acceptable. The reason is that while guests might be seeing the rooms for the first time, I need them to be fresh for my eye as well. The rooms are part of me, part of my pride. They contain my "art and soul" if you know what I mean, and to just look at them and say, "ahhh, that'll do" is simply not in my nature. Of course this adds some stress to my life but it also gives me a reason to keep creating and trying new things.

Changing small corners in your own evironment can help your overall mood and help you see your space differently.

Enjoy your creative day!

Potter Beatrice Wood and Lucinda's Current Take on Art

Wood: traditional lusterware

I was reminded to day of a person that helped fuel my creative drive: Beatrice Wood (look at that picture, is she not fabulous? She lived to be 105). She is the most noted woman potter of contemporary history. To read more about her and her incredible life and loves, visit her website.

On another note, for a moving read, visit Cobalt Violet today. Lucinda touches on subjects that are at the heart of the matter for women. It will make you think.

Sunday Affirmation

I am calm

I appreciate the beauty around me

I know that this is part of a longer journey

Today is here for me to enjoy

The winds are at my back

I will dance today

Gratitude Friday: Loyal Friendship

Always watching out for us....

The quintessential Italian cheese pose -- dog in the bedroom with the laundry and the wood burning stove -- all the essential ingredients necessary for a cosy winter...

(hope I can make mom and dad laugh today....)

Max helps us keep a sense of humor. Feeds us with love. Never changes. Thanks, Meg, for the reminder.

Happy Weekend!

The Day After

So much snow melted to day that it's nothing short of a miracle.

In an additional moment of serendipity, all three trades showed up today. They helped each other shovel out and pushed each other's vehicles. The electricians and the plumber finished laying the tubes, into which water pipes and electrical cable flow. Tomorrow, a 4 cm thick cement layer will bury these tubes into the floor.

The next step, after all of these tubes disappear into cement, will be for the floor heating to be laid. Monday.

Here I am, photographing my shadow, as living proof that yesterday is truly history ...

... and here is what I sincerely hope is the last winter landscape of the year.

Update from Siberia

A very nice young man came with a brand new tractor and cleared the two feet of snow from our quarter-mile driveway. I called him this morning. This is an activity that Franco has always helped us with -- but no longer can because of poor health. Francesco, the young man, mastered the art of dodging the cement mixer, the new floor tiles ( now looking like a ski mogul in the driveway), and the other construction related materials. Good kid. Thank God.

All day, I have tried to be philosophical about the snow. One of our neighbors, Bepe, said that in his 68 years, he had never experienced a winter like this one. Ice cold, high humidity, and 40 centimeters of snow on March 10th, when we should be planting potatoes.

I am beginning to get a little reticent when I hear these "never before in my lifetime" stories. Last year, I heard that statement snowstorm after snowstorm. Setting records with weather is beginning to make me weary. If we were just here to relax I would put another log on the fireplace and snooze. But we are deep into construction, as we are every winter, with deadlines looming.

So I do what I can do. I make art, frame posters, try not to drag too much dirt into the living room. Micha carts the wood up, keeps the house warm and researches new wineries. There is an overwhelmingly long list of more important things to do, but once again, today is not the day any of those things are going to happen.

Is this all happening to tell me something? Oh, come on, I realize that world weather patterns are not all about me.

Today one of the other ladies that has a project like ours, a wonderful person who is positive in her outlook, told me that she was going to give herself permission to be very sad today about the weather. I can understand. We all really try to stay positive when we are shoveling you-know-what against the tide. The tide today feels like a tsunami as we dig ourselves out. It's humbling.

It's mojo-killing.

But let's just go with the assumption that the weather is all about me for a moment. Indulge me, please. What am I supposed to be grasping from the series of mini-disasters that have been this renovation project so far?

That I can't control everything?

That everything has its time and process regardless of what I may think?

That it really does not make a lick of difference how much I worry -- things are going to happen however they are going to happen anyway?

The thing about glitches in the road is that those tend to be all we remember. The potholes. When the road is smooth, we just don't register it. We get complacent about things when they are going well.

So let me remember what has gone well concerning this project in the last year:

We have stayed healthy.

We had great guests last season who really "got" what we were all about.

I found a good builder who is fair and gets the work done. I like the guys who are working here right now.

I found good floor tiles, really nice ones, for a fair price (whew). The same with the bathroom fixtures and window treatments.

I have been able to make new art.

We have a stunning wine cellar, and will have an exceptionally nice new room. Nicer than I could have imagined. Really.

So, this stupid spring snow storm will pass, and we will turn from Siberia back to beautiful Piemonte. I know it is a matter of days, not weeks, until I see the budding trees spraying a haze of green all around me. It's really, really, REALLY right around the corner.

But for the rest of today, I am going to snooze....

Hand Batik and Waxed Papers

On a recent visit to the town of Nizza Monferrato, I found a lovely shop called Giorgio, started by a restoration expert named, well, Giorgio.

He has all kinds of interesting things in there, and my eyes fell immediately on these gorgeous hand batik papers, partially treated with beeswax.

I've framed them up. I think they work beautifully with my own art!

How Are We Going To Pull This Off?

Don't know. Can't say. This project is closed until further notice.

Things will get better.

right?

Restoration: A Damn Shame

There are some parts of restoration work that bring a person into the world of hurt. There is no way to avoid it, and no way to deny it. Forget the time deadlines crossed because of inclement weather and arrogant plumbers. Don't even mention costs (where is that sand box? My head needs to be buried).

What I am talking about is something I refer to as a Damn Shame. When you cannot, for a myriad of reasons, save a beautiful detail. Be it time. Costs. Impracticality. A combination of all three.

Case in point: these stone steps.

They are a couple of hundred years old. Under all that dust, they are beautiful. The edges are worn from wear, they are softly rounded and carry the patina of all the farmers that ever carried provisions up to the hay loft.

And they cannot be saved.

Last spring, we had the stairs supported from underneath with iron girders so that we could save the stones. The problem, however, became obvious when we started doing the calculations for the floor heating upstairs. The floor upstairs would be about 7 inches higher than originally planned. And that seven inches threw every step off -- you can't arrive at the top without having a huge, insurmountable step to throw yourself over.

It's geometry. It's trigonometry. Whatever. I got mad at the architect at first, but then realized that she could not have known that we would decide on floor heating upstairs. It was a little bit of everyone's fault, this one. She didn't ask, I didn't think of it, and the steps were, as a result, cast in iron, a bit prematurely.

We can't jackhammer the steps out, because they are buried deep into the walls, left and right.

All we can do is leave the steps there as a foundation and build each single step up a bit to compensate for the higher floor.... and then cover the steps with another material.

I know, and now you know, what treasures lay buried under the tiles that will line the steps... tiles, by the way, that we saved from another part of the house. Beautiful, old, colorful tiles.

But still.

I cried an entire weekend away over this one. It's one thing when the practicalities don't go well. It's another to lose a piece of history, and to know that I played a role in the mistake. Nothing I can do now about it, and I am past it. I am not going to beat myself up too much, because what's the point, really?

It's just a Damn Shame, that's all.

Restoration: One Step at a Time

They tell me it looks worse than it is. They tell me a couple of more weeks and it will clear up and we can start to paint, garden and decorate.

I hope I can believe them. I will be happy to see the cement mixer go away, to see the floor tiles go in, to have a day or two of peace.

For now, though, we are buried. Buried in the process.

There is always a point of critical mass in a restoration project, and yesterday was it. Too many trucks, too many trades.

In the mean time, the existing rooms are coming along, and seeing their completeness calms me a bit.

Un passo per volta. One step at a time. If I could only remember that at 4 am.

Headboard

Today I got a good start on my new headboard, which will go into the existing suite. This was made from 14 20x20cm canvases that I detail painted and copper/gold leafed. The individual canvases were then mounted onto a multi laminiate board that was treated with gold /bronze paint.

I will of course rephotograph this when it is mounted in the freshly painted and newly decorated bedroom of the suite.

A Hearty Thought

Every year my niece Jessica sends out adorable, hand-made Valentines, in sort of a self-started tradition. This year, she made lovely heart pins, hand sewn with red felt and lavender thread. I love the way she attached the little safety pin in the back:

I was out in the studio making a slew of tiles for a table top. The table will go into the new guest room and serve as a place for a computer, or to write.

But my mind went back to the cute heart. Which got me thinking.

I had started making hearts out of clay last year. Why not make some big ones, and some middle size ones, and some small ones too? So I started, and now there are a few dozen hearts piling up out there, from two inches to fifteen!

So, after I get done making my table top, I am going to do something with these hearts. I'll glaze them different colors, and do SOMETHING with them. A mosaic? A table top? Who knows?

This is really what I mean by creative structures. To start a day, not really knowing what is going to happen and create something out of your hands, with the help of inspiration from those around you.

This is a clear case of spreading the love!