Art Nouveau

I enjoy looking at Art Nouveau architecture. I find it welcoming.

The lines aren't all straight; they undulate, curl, and extend, as if alive. They reflect the movements of nature, of stems and flowers. It's an architecture that is both fluid and meticulously crafted. Nothing is left to chance.

The iron is softened by its forms.

And all the imagination behind it fascinates me. To think that someone imagined these stairs, drew flowers, and thought that a balcony could resemble a climbing plant. And that others, with their hands and their know-how, gave form to all these ideas.

I love this freedom of expression. Not limiting oneself to what is necessary or reasonable. Leaving room for fantasy, even in the most ordinary elements of a home.

I like to sit on a bench in front of a building and observe the details. All that ironwork transformed into a work of art.

And I wonder why we don't build houses like those anymore.

Is it a question of cost, know-how, or time? Or has our perception of beauty changed?

Not all old houses were masterpieces. And contemporary architecture can be beautiful too. But I miss this whimsy, this freedom to give movement to what doesn't move.

We continue to marvel at buildings constructed more than a century ago. We photograph them and travel across entire cities to admire them.

In a thousand years, what will we have built in the meantime that will in turn deserve to be contemplated?

Sixtine