Telling Christmas: book FIVE

    And so they appear. Each roof so like Hershey Bars. Now I understand the urge to eat a house as did Hansel and Gretel. But how else should the roof of  English chocolate box beauties  look? I ask. It's perfect.  

Making beauty is . . . well, a privilege to observe. Such a good use of mind and hands, I think. Brits love their conservatories and having lived at Glenridge Hall in Atlanta, Georgia while a boarding student at The Westminster School for Girls for three years and enjoyed the great conservatory of that grand house on a daily basis, I too can say I love the conservatory. This little gem is what is called an Orangery, a purposed conservatory for orange trees cultivated year round by Brits in the hothouse because their seasons are too extreme for growth in field. And  so, The Orangery at Heritage Square —what a wonderful solution to a real need and a beauty to behold!            

   Time after time, Richard would take the assembled whole apart for reasons only known to him. I did hear him remark once that design without drawings was the only way to design, but . . . it was, if I say so myself . . . well . . . more complicated.     Simultaneously, and solely in his mind, he had to imagine shapes and interweave structure, lighting and electric, circulation, display positions and vary types, inside and out. All his measurements and cuts had to be and were precise and the first time; because it all went on in his head, and that's the way he works.     So it looked effortless . . . only it wasn't. But it was pure art come from intense effort and a joy to watch.

I've observed that the creative mind is a wanderer. To me, it's like a sweet saddle horse eager to munch on tasties, snuffing contentedly from one attractive tuft of delectables after the other and taking away what it favors as it deigns to do. Richard and I behave that way routinely. It is definitely noticeable. Take note of the elevator—it's even made of something green!                    

Time is spent on many things which never appear. Imagined and rejected (or not), they are then included or forgotten as easily as one minute flows into the next, whether (or not) it required days of effort. Dreamy graphics that grip the imagination. Developing roof shingles! (Never got used, but I'll tell you a secret, we will find a future and perfect place for them!) Color palates and ground surface treatments required projection and selection: That's one day!

   "Design has a way of growing in my mind," Richard frequently reminds me.     And I thoroughly understand what he means because I experience it, and simultaneously, with him.     He means design has a cognitive way of going 3-D and transporting one, with its visceral grip, beyond the plans, the elevations, the perspectives, the models, into space occupying dimensions of sensation. You are there! One visits the design in its corporeal form, enters into it, looks for the e xpected above, below, and beyond just as one does when visiting any well-known location.     Forgetting oneself, one simply seems there.     And one may lose oneself in there comfortably and quite easily, then exit at will. Hmmmm!    

Artists simply must break-up great stretches of intense focus—and I include myself in that. And so we began this simply marvelous excursion through time! KMcR