When we first planted ourselves in the village of Westboro some years ago, the old clay brick of the shops and buildings along Richmond Road was a pleasant discovery, and I spent hours pottering about in various neighbourhoods and looking at the patterns on the old brick buildings situated along well travelled arteries and tucked into cul-de-sacs here and there. So. . . . the truth is that the latest trend in the village is one which leaves me feeling more than a bit ambivalent.
Slowly but surely, the old walls in the village are being transformed and painted over, covered with bright murals which extol the charms of the village and the many virtues of living here. There are also a number of trompe l'oeil creations in the village now - these (sometimes) imaginative vistas place windows and doors where no windows or doors have ever been and send pots of flowers and tendrils of ivy scrambling skyward in all sorts of unlikely places. I liked the exuberantly curling ivy, the trompe l'oeil doors and windows and the trompe l'oeil potted ficus here, but I loved the old brick wall too. Behind the parked car is a perfectly rendered trompe l'oeil retriever sitting in the trompe l'oeil doorway, wagging his trompe l'oeil tail and grinning at passers by, but there always seems to be a car parked here, and I have not been able to take a picture of the wall which includes the trompe l'oeil doggie.
It's all a matter methinks of holding everything in memory, the clay, bricks and mortar underneath all the paint and and the artist's imagination as well as the trompe l'oeil door, window, plant and doggie (and waiting for the doggie to emerge from behind the parked car too). A ficus in winter, even a trompe l'oeil ficus, is a lovely thing.
Slowly but surely, the old walls in the village are being transformed and painted over, covered with bright murals which extol the charms of the village and the many virtues of living here. There are also a number of trompe l'oeil creations in the village now - these (sometimes) imaginative vistas place windows and doors where no windows or doors have ever been and send pots of flowers and tendrils of ivy scrambling skyward in all sorts of unlikely places. I liked the exuberantly curling ivy, the trompe l'oeil doors and windows and the trompe l'oeil potted ficus here, but I loved the old brick wall too. Behind the parked car is a perfectly rendered trompe l'oeil retriever sitting in the trompe l'oeil doorway, wagging his trompe l'oeil tail and grinning at passers by, but there always seems to be a car parked here, and I have not been able to take a picture of the wall which includes the trompe l'oeil doggie.
It's all a matter methinks of holding everything in memory, the clay, bricks and mortar underneath all the paint and and the artist's imagination as well as the trompe l'oeil door, window, plant and doggie (and waiting for the doggie to emerge from behind the parked car too). A ficus in winter, even a trompe l'oeil ficus, is a lovely thing.
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