Not Your Average Vacation: What a Rural French Village Taught Me About Art, Culture, and Connection
What started as a Market connection turned into a trip Leigh will never forget. From willow weaving to rogue ponies, Leigh’s time in Provence wasn’t about sightseeing — it was about being there. Living, learning, and helping, side by side with one of IFAM’s own artists, Blaise Cayol. As we wrap up Women’s History Month , this is exactly the kind of story that reminds us why the Market matters. Because sometimes, the journey doesn’t end at the booth — it begins there.
This wasn’t a vacation. It was a homecoming — to a friendship born at IFAM.
By Leigh Maddox, IFAM Administrative Manager
“Je voudrais une bouteille de vin rouge, s’il vous plait…” That’s the kind of thing one would normally expect to say when traveling in the south of France. Bottles of wine, croissants, fromage, all wonderfully normal. Not necessarily, “Uhhh…there’s a pony loose over there…I’ll get it!”
My weeks spent in Provence this winter were not what most would consider a ‘normal’ vacation. I spent exactly zero minutes visiting churches or museums, reveling instead in getting a little dirty and learning intimately about both life in a rural French village and the art of basket making.
Volunteering and working with the artists who exhibit at the International Folk Art Market each July provides many opportunities to meet people from all over the world, some of whom may become fast friends. It’s a chance to strengthen language skills and share cultures, discovering not only what may be new and different, but also commonalities, crossovers and throughlines. I had the great pleasure to be hosted this winter by the family of Blaise Cayol, a weaver I met at IFAM, and my Great French Education began.
One of the first lessons was in sustainability; Blaise took me to his studio, which is less of a manmade structure and more of an environment. On a couple of wooded acres, I learned the best conditions for cultivating several varieties of willow, the characteristics of dogwood and hazelnut, and how they’re all used to create different decorative and structural effects in weaving. Blaise’s willow is harvested annually in the early winter and I happily volunteered to help, which resulted in numerous bundles of product and an equally numerous amount of stickers and leaves in my clothes and hair. The willow is then sorted by length and stored for months, which results in a deepening of colors as it dries. In this way, good product is available year-round, ready to be soaked for renewed flexibility and woven into custom creations. My persistent questioning enabled Blaise to give me so much insight into weaving techniques and how to create specialized baskets, that even though I didn’t attempt one myself, I bet I could do it just from his explanations.
Lesson two in my education was about community. The village where the Cayols live has been part of their family for over 200 years. In fact, I was blessed to spend several days staying in the ancestral home built in the 1700s, where I admit the main staircase gave me a bit of pause. The narrow winding stone staircase had me concentrating fiercely on my next steps each time I needed to go up or down! But the rooms were large and welcoming, the plumbing modern, and staying there was a pure delight. In fact, one of my prized possessions is a constant reminder of that week…an everyday folding pocket knife with which I was taught to neatly open walnuts.
Blaise is well-known in his hometown and often gets asked to help with random projects. Luckily, I was able to convince him to let me tag along and help. One morning about five of us assembled at his neighbor’s place to help guide a herd of about 400 sheep and goats several kilometers through town to another pasture. My main job was keeping them from eating absolutely everything they could reach en route, a futile task indeed. But we got them there and fenced them in, leaving them under the watchful eye of a Great Pyrenees guard dog. Later that same day, well after sunset, Blaise received an urgent call from the shepherd…wild boars had gotten into the flock and we needed to bring them back! So out into the cold, now-roaring wind we rushed, bringing 400 upset sheep and goats BACK through town. We were lucky and only lost one sheep, thanks to everyone working together.
Part of any education is the give-and-take of ideas and skills, so lesson three for me was a familiar joy. At the local stable, I was able to exchange years of horse experience for a fun afternoon outside. While Blaise helped replace a twelve-foot support structure which some ponies had mysteriously broken off about four feet above the ground (don’t ask me how), I got to be on guard duty, keeping the herd from escaping through an open gate. Let’s just say that the wily Pompom and I came to a wary understanding. Not twenty minutes later, as Blaise was helping dig post holes for a new fence, one of the ponies made a break for it and actually escaped the enclosure. I was able to corral him until help arrived, so I definitely earned my keep that day!
I came away from this vacation with so many new thoughts and ideas about France. I learned about basket making (naturally) from one of the best, yes, but I also learned about the flow of daily life and what it takes to live in a Provencal village. About the best cheese (roquefort) to eat with walnuts. About merchandising for a small popup featuring local artisans. About entertaining and riotous family gatherings, birthday parties for young and old. I had my first taste of panettone straight from Italy. And I made new friends…lots and lots of new friends. And let’s just say my impressions of ponies being absolute hell were completely confirmed.
Photos courtesy of Leigh Maddox.
