If it’s Friday, it must be France …
Yes … I’m still hard at the WIP … so since I can’t get away from it, I thought I would bring you into the story with me for a moment. Oh come on! No eye rolls! It’s just for a moment …
By way of introduction – This sculpture was installed at the end of the ramparts in Antibes in 2007. It was taken into a private collection at one point and the outcry was so loud when it was gone that it was replaced. We overlooked it from our terrace last summer. Magic … day or night … just magic …
The setting for this scene in my story is at night. Of course in the WIP there are no photos … only the images created by my own letters …
At the end of the ramparts, they stepped inside the white stainless steel sculpture that faced the sea and dominated the harbor of Port Vauban. Lit from the bottom in the unfolding darkness, there was a sense of a shimmering diaphanous embrace.
“I’ve been mesmerized by this from my terrace,” Katherine murmured. “It’s as if he’s a guardian … almost like a mirage from a distance.”
“This part of the ramparts is Bastion Saint-Jaume. Originally constructed in the 1700’s, it was blown up by the Germans when they retreated in 1944 and rebuilt according to the original plans,” Nick said, ever the historian.
“It’s so unusual … almost magical … ” Katherine studied the outline of a person squatting, arms around knees, constructed entirely of letters.
“La Grande Nomade … but tourists refer to it as the Man of Letters … for obvious reasons,” Nick continued. “Oddly, the Spanish sculptor’s name is Jaume Plensa …”
Katherine smiled at the coincidence.
Nick’s voice softened, reflecting the intimacy he craved. “His philosophy behind the work is that letters are like bricks. They help us to construct our thoughts. I read an interview where he expressed his feeling that our skin is permanently and invisibly tattooed with the text of our life experiences and then someone comes along … a friend, a lover … who is able to decipher these tattoos.”
Biting her lip, Kat looked out over the calm sea. “The text of this year of my life would call for quite the tattoo.”
Are you able to get a good enough sense of La Grande Nomade from these photos? What do you think of Plensa’s philosophy about letters?
It’s a long weekend in Canada and the weather is beautiful in Toronto – Victoria Day on Monday or, as it’s ‘fondly’ referred to up here “May two-four”. I’m taking tomorrow off from writing. Woohoo! We’re going to Mosport with some of our children and grandchildren to watch our son, Sasha, compete in his auto racing division. Wherever you are and whatever you are doing, I wish you all a Bon Weekend!
