A Lifelong Connection: How Barga Became More Than Just a Holiday Destination
28th of June, 2024 It was the summer of 1979. I was 13 years old, and Barga, Italy, was a world away from my life in Scotland. We stayed at Renaio, a village steeped in family history, we stayed with mums cousins and the place of her birth. The days were filled with exploration, the freedom of a new landscape, the vibrant sounds and color, the simplicity of life and the characteristics of the dwellings and their surroundings. It was a childhood dream, a sensory feast.
Those weeks in Barga ignited something within me. Armed with a simple jotter and pencils, I began to capture the beauty around me. It was my first foray into drawing, a feeling of elation as I discovered a hidden talent. A pair of red Japanese slippers, adorned with flowers, sparked a desire to translate their elegance onto paper.
This journey back to my mother's roots was also a deeply emotional one for her. It was her first return in a long time, and I, as the eldest, knew she had been unwell, though the true extent remained unclear. The happiness of our time in Barga was tinged with a bittersweet longing for a home she'd left behind.
When we returned to Scotland, all we could do was yearn to come back. Sadly, in January 1978, we returned to bury mum in the Barga cemetery. She was 42.
It wasn't until my late 30s that I picked up a pencil again, driven by a yearning to reconnect with those joyful memories.
My paintings of Barga are more than just landscapes. They are stories of love and gratitude, courage and resilience. They are a testament to my family's journey, to the memories I hold dear, and to the enduring power of a connection that transcends time and distance.
When I stand in Barga, I feel their presence. The scent of the air, the cobblestone streets, the laughter echoing through the hills, all transport me back to that 13-year-old girl, filled with wonder and joy. Barga is more than a place, it's a feeling, a lifelong connection etched in my heart.