the plants Along the front window sill was a collection of succulent plants. My mother could not keep a plant alive if her life depended on it, but loved succulents. She read all about them, but my green thumb dad was commandeered to satisfy this need. The line up at the cash of their favourite Chinese restaurant was lined with rubber plants – she would elbow my dad into breaking off a leaf as she was the shy one in the couple, and they started a short career in leaf nipping (succulents root from any leaf), my mother commanding, my dad complying. Building on successful looting, their succulent garden grew mostly from scratch all along the sill – and was their shared indoor garden. Soon people would trade cuttings and the garden got variety. My mother loved the strong profiles, the way the light came through — and I am sure, she saw pictures in these too — as another part of her photo oeuvre was a series of abstract views of plants at the Montreal Botanical Gardens. After my dad died, the caregivers were given the task of ensuring these stay alive – it was as though they both lived in that set of plants. As we were planning the move, the size of the windowsill and orientation of every apartment we looked at were critical. My mother died before making it to the new apartment in Toronto. I have yet to go through the stuff in the house. There are things of ‘value’, there is an interesting art collection and the extensive archives of their own artworks. All of this we will go through in due time. But in the meantime I brought the plants to my studio in Toronto — and in nurturing them there I am surprised to discover how much it feels like my parents are with me. Like I brought them home with me. To my home.
Lisa Rpoport
coda Over the last few decades, real estate speak has replaced the word house with home . I don’t think you can sell homes. Homes are what you make — whether that is your room in a rooming house, or the grand pile — it is something you make. As a design practice, we most often work with clients who have character, they collect things or make things (which could be as simple as being GREAT cooks) – they need a house that will accommodate exactly who they are. Our most wince- inducing question from a client is — would that idea be good for resale? One of the first questions we ask people – is this your terminal house? What we mean by that is — are you doing this for you? or to satisfy some future buyer? The projects we do are for people who want things not because they have seen them before, but because they need their actual life to be supported and celebrated – to make it their home. Sometimes that means their too-much- stuff, or that ugly clock they got from their grandma, but it is what it makes it feel like home to them. You buy a house, you make a home.
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LISA RAPOPORT is a founding member of PLANT, an architecture and landscape architecture studio in Toronto, working across Canada and internationally. https://branchplant.com
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