Thursdays Antiques- Fine selection of 18th, 19th and turn of the century French art and antiques.


	ost in the Stillness of Beauty...
	living with French Art and Antiques

	After leaving my career in dance to become a mother, I was faced with the opportunity of finding artistic expression within the confines of my home. Creating a lush, continuous blooming and fragrant garden along with perfecting the art of baking and creating lavishly decorated cakes were two mediums that satisfied my need to create and surround myself with beauty. The highlight of these achievements came when I made my parents a Golden Wedding Anniversary High Tea in my garden. Surrounded by the scents of gardenia, jasmine and old roses and the sounds of a trickling fountain, we all got lost in the flavors of Devonshire cream and chocolate ganache. When one of my guests proclaimed that he wished this moment would never end, I experienced a satisfaction that even a fruitful career in dance could never match.

To bring the stillness of beauty into the soul of another and witness the transformation is beyond words. Now, coming to a stage in my life where I needed to create a business that encompassed all that I loved, I have returned to yet another of my passions…antiques.

Specifically, 18th, 19th, and turn of the century French Art and Antiques. I filled my historic home with carefully selected objects of beauty that also seem to have the power to transform. After years of extensive research and seeking treasure from the past, I’ve created a space that brings my guests back in time, to a place where one gets lost in the stillness of beauty.

Each of the pieces I am drawn to, tells a story. When I walk beneath a 19th Century French chandelier with its gilded leaves, painted arms and strands of crystals, I am transported back in time. A couple appears, held in tight embrace. Music fills the space and an entire scene unfolds before me. They are dancing, swirling beneath the glow of the candles, faces warm and flushed from the heat of the flames and the warmth of their breath. I slowly turn away from that scene so as not to stay too long in their private moment. I move forward now, toward an 18th Century gilded mirror. In the rippling water-like reflection of the old glass I see, not my face, but that of another. The beautifully carved golden frame surrounds her, making her feel almost regal. These rippling old mirrors watch me as I wander throughout the room. Now, I too am part of their story! Transporting forward and backward in time, so past, present and future become one, they also have been transformed by the experience.

A friend of mine recently came by to see these antiques. She moved slowly throughout the space, as if she was floating from piece to piece, listening to the stories each piece had to tell. To watch this friend put her hand on her heart while slowly taking in the details of a painting on a 19th Century French Sevres Urn, brought me back to that moment in my garden when my guest proclaimed, he wished this moment would never end.

Beauty transforms and elevates one’s soul. It embraces you with warm arms and renews one’s connection with the divine. This is why we feel comforted when in the presence of all that is beautiful. To surround oneself with such beauty and share this with others is truly a life worth living.

Andrea Lynn Fisher

"Yes, everything that has truly been seen must become a poem!"
From Diaries of A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke publisher: W.W. Norton & Company


	s that you my beautiful Eugenie?
	falling in love with French Art and Antiques

		I hear them, late at night, when everyone is sleeping. They move, ever so slowly, as if floating throughout the space. Their bare feet make contact with the ground, gently, yet deliberately, as if they are walking on sand. These beautiful nymphs, maidens.. goddesses from late 1800’s France, mingle in my sitting room when all the world is still. They are serenely happy to be together, to share the same space and just be. I know this is a reunion for them. I am sure these souls, these spirits of art, some in bronze, some on canvas, have been

together before. Their creators exhibited in the Salons of late 1800’s Paris, many of these artists knew one another and perhaps were great friends! I wish I was there to have known of their relationships. This is information that I can not find in books. Yet I know they were together before.

Auguste Moreau’s divine maiden (La Vague) is the first to gently step down from her pedestal. She is the leader in this ‘dance of the spirits’. She slips off the large rock that appears to support her above crashing waves, her foot gently making contact with the ground. Her toes splay open as if caressing the wood floors...as if they are walking on sand. She is joined next by Arthur Waagen’s exquisitely rose clad beauty who leaves behind her dog, carrying a basket overflowing with flowers. Some garlands of flowers remain in her hands as she too becomes a part of the choreography. Weighted folds of fabric trail behind her, making a quiet swooshing sound with her every step. Next, are Henry Etienne Dumaige’s young lovers. They remain close together, just as they were positioned on their rouge marble plinth. Forever young and forever in love, they too seem sublimely happy to be reunited with their old friends. Lastly, Eutrope Bouret’s elegant woman with a mirror steps down to join the others. With mirror in hand and her lovely gold slippers still on her feet, she moves throughout the space as if she were floating. Her elegant presence is still an inspiration to the others.

Then there is Eugenie. She remains on canvas. Her subtle yet deep beauty is a symbol of all that was and all that will be. I call her Eugenie because I feel certain this “Nymph with Flowers and Garland”, painted by artist Charles-Amable Lenoir, is in fact the artist’s wife, Eugenie. I love this nymph, this beauty, this soul. I know I have known her before, if not in a past life then in a life that is yet to unfold. Her huge glossy eyes pull me inward. They are like pools that reveal secrets of the universe. I am haunted by her beauty. Every night before going to sleep I approach her. I walk towards her, quietly, gently, the soles of my feet make contact with the hard wood floors as if they are walking on sand. I hear myself asking the same question. IS THAT YOU MY BEAUTIFUL EUGENIE? She just continues to look outward with those eyes, those pools. I never hear her answer, but I know it is she. Now, I have taken images of this nymph, this beauty, this soul and placed them side by side with pictures of Lenoir’s other paintings; a nymph wading in a stream and a portrait of his wife. I see the same nose, the same brows, lips…these faces captured at different times in one’s life reveal the same woman. I know it is she, I knew it before the images told me so!

It is late at night and I slowly approach her, quietly walking forward, staring into those eyes. And again I ask that same question. IS THAT YOU MY BEAUTIFUL EUGENIE? Again, no answer. The image of her soul stays with me as I walk up the staircase toward my bedroom. I slip into bed and as I drift off to sleep, I hear the others… ever so gently stepping down from their pedestals… AND MY BEAUTIFUL EUGENIE overseeing all.

Andrea Lynn Fisher

The following poems are from:Rainer Maria Rilke, Diaries of a Young Poet

publisher: W.W. Norton & Company New York London

Is it not thus: deep inside, everyone is like a church , and the walls are decorated with splendid frescoes. In first childhood, when all the festiveness still lies open , it is too dark inside to see the paintings. And then, as it grows lighter and lighter in the hall, the adolescent stupidities and the false longings and the craving shame take control, and they plaster over one work after the other. And many will go far into life and through it without even suspecting the old magnificence beneath the somber dearth. Fortunate, however, the person who feels, finds, and secretly uncovers it. He bestows gifts upon himself. And he will return home into himself.

From our winter-shaped terrain
I've been cast far out, into spring;
as I hesitate at its edge
the new land lays itself lustrously
into my wavering hands.

And I take the beautiful gift,
want to mold it quietly,
unfold all its colors
and hold it, full of shyness,
up toward You.

I Can only keep silent and gaze...
Could I once also sound?
And the hours are women
who spoil me with all kinds of
blue, shimmering delight .

Shall I tell you of my crowded days
or of my place of sleep?
My desires run riot
and out of all paintings
the angels follow me.

She stands in deep-blue ocean depths
into which many rivers pour
from distances on high.
A grey fish carries her along,
delighted by her weight's lissomeness,
which trickles over his fins.

Out of his gills spews excited
spraying-bubbling rush of breath.
But into her beauty rises
coolly, ushered along in waves,
his forever level feeling.

or those who can not resist the beauty of a rose, we present to you...


Garden Design and photography by Andrea Lynn Fisher
		Another French beauty, climbing rose Eden, is just beginning to open. Her cup-shaped cream and pale-pink blooms open in magnificent clusters, making it easy to forgive her for her lack of scent.



One more English rose, this one a much deeper pink, The Herbalist, sits on the other side of the garden. Her sumptuous, deep-pink blooms look magnificent surrounded by tall spikes of purple salvia. The pastel blues of nepeta sit at her feet, as if their sole purpose is to serve her.


	Walk behind the fence and immediately be greeted by the tall and elegant pale-pink English roses. Fold upon fold of soft fragrant petals leave one wondering if they are not in heaven.

...with blush-colored nodding petals that reveal her tea rose parentage, her sweet hypnotic fragrance is unforgettable yet not imposing. She is one's first introduction to the Gardens at Thursday's Antiques, and with an air of sublime elegance she gracefully awaits her visitors.

For those who would like to read more of the Gardens we present to you:

A GARDENER'S DIARY
May 30, 2007- The Gardens at Thursday's Antiques
by Andrea Lynn Fisher

The always lovely, 19th century French climbing rose, Madame Alfred Carriere is in full bloom. A regal beauty with blush-colored nodding petals that reveal her tea rose parentage, her sweet hypnotic fragrance is unforgettable yet not imposing. She is one's first introduction to the Gardens at Thursday's Antiques, and with an air of sublime elegance she gracefully awaits her visitors.

Walk behind the fence and immediately be greeted by the tall and elegant pale-pink English roses. Fold upon fold of soft fragrant petals leave one wondering if they are not in heaven. The sweet smelling Heritage, a truly perfect bloom and a favorite among English and American gardeners is the first to be seen. Nearby is the always beautiful Eglantyne and Scepter d'Isle. One more English rose, this one a much deeper pink, The Herbalist, sits on the other side of the garden. Her sumptuous, deep-pink blooms look magnificent surrounded by tall spikes of purple salvia. The pastel blues of nepeta sit at her feet, as if their sole purpose is to serve her. When I see those chalky pastel blues I think of the great English gardener, the late Gertrude Jekyll, whose painterly approach to design changed gardens forever.

Peek inside the cupped petals of the truly lovely English Climber, Constance Spry and be delightfully surprised to discover sprays of yellow stamens. Rose breeder David Austin confesses this to be his favorite among all his creations. Her myrrh scent is seductive, making it difficult to walk away. The velvety-pink climber New Dawn, creates a breathtaking show while intertwined with the deep purple blooms of clematis Etoile Violette. (I must confess, I first saw this pairing in a catalogue many years ago and it was love at first sight!) This breathtaking pair fills an archway leading to the back door. Together they make coming and going magical. Another French beauty, climbing rose Eden is just beginning to open. Her cup-shaped cream and pale-pink blooms open in magnificent clusters, making it easy to forgive her for her lack of scent.

Each morning I run out into my garden to see what changes occurred while I was asleep. I am always excited to discover the new blooms that await me. Often I count the rose buds, and like a child waiting to open birthday presents every waking hour is filled with excitement of the magnificence that is about to reveal itself. When all those blooms open and the air is filled with scent I find it difficult to return indoors. And each night before going to sleep, I go outside one last time, to take it all in, again. The roses are not alone in creating this little piece of paradise for me. The Perennials complete the scene, making an enchanting space where they can reign.

One of my favorite of these perennials is the beloved foxglove. I am especially fond of the very pale, yellow blooms of Digitalis Grandiflora and the strawberry-colored Mertonensis. Their tall racimes are filled with bell-like flowers, and make glorious counterpoints to the folds and curves of the roses. The lovely verbascum, with its ruffled petticoat-like flowers in antique shades of apricot and mauve, is especially pretty. (English Garden magazine calls verbascum the super models of perennials, and that they are). Perennial geraniums, with their thin sprays of tiny clear pink flowers, spill over the borders giving a free, organic form to the neatly defined curves of the beds. Nepeta, phlox, salvia, lavender and the lovely feathery plumes of astilbes dance throughout the garden. Have you ever smelt astilbe? It is surprisingly delicious, its heavy scent is musky and unexpected. Annual favorites such as pansies, verbena and snapdragons fill the space. And the large, fragrant blooms of the peonies… are always attention grabbers.

The air is thick with the aroma of gardenia, jasmine, stock, lilac and of course the mingling scents of old-fashioned roses. The music of birds, bees and butterflies-- which will appear in full force when the budlea finally opens-- creates what I like to think of as the magical sounds of summer.

My garden is a place of magic… a place that I have been told is inspiring and transforming. A friend of mine recently entered the garden and after a few moments of absolute silence just stood there and sobbed. She said it was overwhelming, like being in Eden. Another friend described the experience as healing and told me the healing she was experiencing must be a result of being enveloped by such beauty. Perhaps when we are completely still, in the midst of nature’s beauty, we return to our days in Eden, when we were free of cares and truly connected to life. All I know is, that when I am in my garden, surrounded by its gentle colors, calming shapes, rhythms, sounds, and scents, I feel absolute peace and am truly happy.

Perhaps I have found heaven.

The Gardens at Thursday's Antiques were featured in
Homescape, the Home and Design publication of the Bergen Record (Cover Story - Sunday August 3rd 2008). This feature can be viewed on our Press page.

Our gardens are also scheduled to be featured in the award winning magazine, Design NJ (Spring of 2009).

We welcome visitors, please call for hours.