We went to visit what had been an artists old studio. Nothing had been touched since his death in 1945. It was filled with paints that dried in mid-movement, neatly stacked and well considered cigar boxes and amazing all encompasing space-very high ceilings and wide undivided rooms-it is no wonder that cathedrals were built so high so as to be closer to the gods, there is certainly something divine about large spaces- and there was much, much light that lit the textures of quietness as it fell through the one large and perfect window from the wooded, bucolic outdoors.
Among other many things we discussed as we left I said to Joe that “empty space is not necessarily wasted space” and I wished that we had the luxury of living that way. Maybe some day.