I was sitting at my desk at home working on April 15, 2019 when my husband alerted me that Notre Dame was on fire. After a few moments of trying to comprehend what he was saying we turned on the news to see the flames rising from between the two towers. At the time, we were living right on Boulevard Saint Germain just a few streets over from the Seine, so we decided to head to the river to see what we could see.

Never did I imagine the sight. The streets and quai were already crowded. But despite the mass of people there was a distinct hush amongst the neighbors and tourists who had stopped in their tracks, a look of disbelief and distraught washing over each face. How could this be happening? A church that has stood through numerous historical trials of tragedy, 861 years to be exact.

As the fire continued to blaze and grow larger, the hymn, Ava Maria, began to bubble up softly among the crowd. The bustling city of Paris quieted itself and attempted to comfort the falling cathedral by embracing it with song. It was a surreal moment being in the midst of strangers from all walks of life tenderly uniting through song and silence. After awhile, the crowds slowly began to disperse and we somberly walked home feeling useless. We kept the TV on during the rest of the day, following the news, watching the courageous firefighters tirelessly fight the flames into the early morning hours of the following day.

Just a year before the fire, my husband had been asked to be an American officer for the board of The American Friends of Notre Dame. They had a mission to raise $150 million for a large restoration project as the Cathedral was already in a state of disrepair. The State actually owns the church and is financially responible for maintaining the building since it is a protected national monument and then the Catholic church is allowed to use it for its services. However, with the State’s blooming deficits, the Cathedral had been put even further on the list of budget priorities. The State’s ownership and responsibility is a complicated relationship and has resulted in ongoing various debates like whether to charge to visit the Cathedral or if the historical stain-glass windows should be replaced with contemporary-designed windows. To fill the gap, various foundations stepped up to raise funds for this much needed restoration project. What could be called a blessing in disguise, the unforeseen fire raised over €843 million and although the damage was more extensive than prior to the devastation, one could say the fire allowed for an even more thorough restoration.

The reopening ceremony on Dec 7. was an all-day televised event including behind-the-scene highlights and interviews with different artisans involved in the rebuilding project. It was a beautiful tribute to not only the solidarity and ambitious mission to have the Cathedral restored in five years, but a global showcasing of the talented craftspeople and deep-seated values of the French savoir-faire.

Five years was an audacious goal considering the breath and depth of not only the structure itself but the damage that was inflicted on the Cathedral. At the same time, five years is considered a significant amount of time in our age of instant gratification. Nothing was rushed in the sense of recreating the architectural details of the Cathedral or in the addition of the minimilistic, epurée designs of the new congregation chairs, benches and altar.

“Short-cut” is not a term in the french vocabulary, and there were no short-cuts made in the restoration despite a swift five years. For example, the Notre Dame “attic” or as it’s referred to as the “forest” was rebuilt exactly like the original roof structure. This included hand-picking trees to match the original species (oak) and using the same laborious, medieval carpentry techniques.

The French often get a bad rep for being onerous in their processes, but I’ve come to appreciate their exactness when it comes to craft whether it be in design, food, fashion, etc ( but the laborious french bureacracy needs a swift kick-in the pants). The faster our world spins, the more I appreciate a slow and thoughtful approach in creating things of joy and beauty - an approach that creates to stand the test of time. Working with the ateliers and craftspeople here in France for my own design clients who are undergoing a renovation or decoration project is one of the biggest source of joy in my design work. Many of the ateliers I work with are founded on a generational transmission of their particular craft. And this relational and historical approach to their work adds a profound meaning to the product they are creating, which in turn is passed on to my clients when it’s placed in their home.

The deep-seated french values of transmission and craft were on full display in the Cathedral last month and a testiment to the beauty and importance of patrimony. And although the Cathedral bears gothic-style architectural roots, I did appreciate the thoughtful, modern touches. Churches and other historical monuments are physical touch points to the past, but with care they continue to live into the present and hopefully future. Marking their passage of time with the handprints of the current custodians whether it’s the artisans/craftspeople, the church chaplains, or the public, creates a rich time stamp of it’s history.

Sitting in the Cathedral last month, I was hestiant to close my eyes because there was so much to take in. Between the restored frescoes which were painted in a joyous combination of cornflower blue, mossy green, rusty red, and pale pink illustrated in a fable-book style, the warm glow of the hanging chandeliers and soft uplighting against the newly, cleaned limestone columns it was hard to consume so much beauty in one space. However, I was compelled to close my eyes as the voices of the children’s choir filled the cavernous interior and I felt like I had been transported to the heavenly realms.

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