Heat does things to a horizon you can't fact-check.
Ships from Italy within 1–3 business days
500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Été series · 16 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 079 of 100.
Dispatched from Italy within 1–3 business days.
Estimated delivery: Italy 1–4 business days, EU 3–8, US and Canada 7–15, rest of world 10–25. Indicative, not guaranteed.
Customs duties outside the EU are the customer's responsibility. Full terms in our shipping and refund policies.
There is a particular hour, in the worst part of August, when the air over a Tuscan hill stops being entirely reliable. Towers shimmer. Distances lie. A bell tower three kilometres away looks like a ship floating on nothing. The wheat in the foreground burns gold at the edges, the rays cut through the haze in straight lines, and for a few minutes you cannot quite tell whether you are looking at a real hillside or a memory of one you might have invented earlier in life.
The picture is of a real one, taken in central Italy in high summer at the worst hour for it. We almost left it out of the catalogue because it looked too much like a painting. Then we left it in for exactly the same reason.
Sits alongside Bel Canto by Ann Patchett, The Talented Mr Ripley by Patricia Highsmith, or any book read on a hot afternoon when the shutters are half-closed.
The summers you actually remember are usually three or four days of one specific summer. A particular town. A particular light. A particular evening when nobody was in a hurry. The rest of June, July, and August blurs into a single warm continent of weeks. The point is that those three or four days happened, and that the year refused to end for as long as they lasted. You spend the rest of the year hoping to bump into them again.
