Restoring our French house (continued…)
It's all in the details. Plus a new publication arrives this week!
Now that the major works on the house are finished (well, except for the small matter of the 17th century barn), it’s the details that need attention. Back in the 1930s some of the doors were updated with Art Deco Bakelite door levers; then in the 60s, a few more in chrome were added. Their mid-century styling jarred against the elegant belle époque rooms. A precious few of the original walnut and brass door knobs did remain, though, and I wanted to replace the 20th century ‘improvements’ with something more like the real thing.
I thought it would be a satisfying little weekend job. I should have known better by now.
We start with a trip to the local brico (a French DIY superstore—Bricorama, Bricomarché, Monsieur Brico… you get the idea) but find nothing even similar. So the online search begins, and I am left with a conundrum. How do you find something when you don’t know what you’re looking for?
I scroll through pages of door handles, searching every word I can think of in French that might help (poignée, bouton de porte, umm… serrurerie…porte ancienne…) and so on, until I run out of words and ideas. I search architectural salvage markets and old-school quincailleries (ironmongers). I rummage through boxes at wintery vide greniers (yard sales). And I look at a lot of pictures of door handles.
Google is excited by my new hobby and teases me with suggestions, but nothing comes close to what I’m looking for. I put a photo on a local Facebook group: “Has anyone got an old one of these they don’t want?”. “Non,” someone replies. “But if you find one, I want one too.” It seems I’m not the only person with this door knob problem so I am encouraged to persevere.
The breakthrough comes, in the end, from an unexpected source. One of my flute students is a professor of Occitan—the language and culture of southwest France—and sometimes we share our house restoration stories when études get the better of him. “Ah yes,” he says, as I point out the handle on the music room door. “It’s a Bordelaise thing.” Bordelaise things are his special subject. For anything to do with this part of Occitanie, in the Bordeaux region, Jean-Louis is the go-to.
I add “Bordeaux” to my search terms and not too far into the maw of Google, I find it. Finally I know what I’m looking for and it’s called a manivelle bordelaise. I am triumphant, the Proust of French house restoration, à la recherche de la manivelle perdue.
Once I have the magic key, it doesn’t take long to find my walnut manivelles bordelaises to refurbish the doors. To my delight they are exactly the same as the originals—and I do mean exactly. They are made by the original manufacturers who are still producing them in small, handmade (and, it hardly needs saying, expensive) quantities to the same design specification they were using in 1853.
And it strikes me that there’s a life lesson here. To find what you really need, first you need to know what it is you’re actually looking for.
A new publication
I’m eagerly anticipating the arrival of our latest publication which is being shipped this week. An die Musik (the title is taken from the Schubert song, ‘To Music’) is a book of lieder—German Romantic songs—arranged for flute and piano. It contains favourites such as Schubert’s Ständchen and, of course, An die Musik, along with some exquisite and little known gems, including music by Fanny Mendelssohn and Clara Schumann. For me, the diamond at the heart of the book is Die Nachtigall by Alban Berg—so beautiful and not at all what comes to mind when you think of Berg’s music. It’s very emotional to play and I hope you’ll love it as much as we do. John and I will be recording some of these pieces later this month, so I’ll share some excerpts with you soon. An die Musik will be available in music stores in the UK and Europe from next week and in North America at the beginning of April.
Jean-Pierre Rampal podcast
Next week I’ll be sharing the first of my translations of the Radio France Musique podcast series on Jean-Pierre Rampal. Episode one, “Rampal, the boy from Marseille”, covers his early development under the tutelage of his father Joseph at the Conservatoire in Marseilles. It includes 1.5 hours of Rampal recordings ranging from Boismortier to Jolivet. Don’t miss it!
I love this story of the door handles, Elisabeth and I’m so pleased you’ve found them! Agreed that there’s a life lesson there too.
I will look forward to hearing the Berg. I’ve really come to appreciate his music and I don’t know this piece.
Such an interesting read, as usual. I always look forward to these articles.