When the Walls Remember us - La gazette #9

How paintings become keepers of the past, and why some artworks feel like they’ve known you long before you laid eyes on them.

Hello friend,

What if the art you live with could hold your memories for you?

Not literally, of course. But emotionally. Viscerally. Like a visual bookmark tucked inside the story of your life.

There’s a reason why certain paintings stop us in our tracks. It’s not always the subject, or even the technique. It’s the feeling. The way a curve of colour reminds you of a hillside from childhood, or how a certain texture feels like summer air on your skin. Sometimes, you don’t even consciously remember what it is you’re remembering. You just know that something within you has stirred.

That’s the power of nostalgia.

When I create, I think less about accuracy and more about emotional composition. What are we creating when we “decorate” our homes? Is it just aesthetic, or is it also a collection of symbols—anchors—that say, I’ve been places. I’ve loved. I’ve marvelled. I remember who I am.

Nostalgia doesn’t need to be loud. In fact, it’s often quiet. A painting that sits softly in your home, slowly revealing itself, coaxing out small forgotten joys. A house on a hill that feels impossibly familiar. A sky that feels like a sigh.

When you choose artwork for your space, ask yourself: does this piece take me somewhere? Not in the literal sense, but does it reconnect me to a part of myself I forgot I was missing?

That’s when art becomes more than visual—it becomes personal. And in doing so, it makes your home not just beautiful, but alive with memory.

Beyond beauty and atmosphere, the art you choose to live with can become something extraordinary: a vessel for memory, a quiet witness to the story of your life.

Have you ever stood in front of a painting and felt it knew you?
Not just because of what was depicted, but because of something wordless it carried—something that found you.
If you have a story like that, or a painting that holds one of your silent memories, I’d love to hear it.

Feel free to leave a comment at the end of this post.

And if not yet, perhaps one of my landscape paintings is waiting to refill your heart with your sweetest memories.

Thank you for reading,

Warmly,

Marion V-W.