According to the Oxford Dictionary, a palimpsest is "an ancient sheet of parchment from which the original writing has been removed to make room for new writing."
I know, there is nothing in that definition about stones, walled openings, or ancient buildings. But I've always liked the word "palimpsest" - what it stands for, as well as how its sounds (I also like the sound of the words "mujahideen" and "catalpa", but I have not been inspired yet to document them photographically, partly due to the fact that neither occurs commonly in the Périgord). Someone suggested that "pentimento" might be a more appropriate analogue. I agree, but I don't like the sound of it.
Like the parchment variety, stone palimpsests appeal to the imagination by suggesting a story that was once set, then changed for reasons that are now obscure to us, leaving us to wonder as we gaze at them or examine photos of them.
I couldn't think of a more satisfying word to describe these images in stone, as I became attracted to them over the last couple of years. I was noticing them everywhere, like silent witnesses of centuries of adaptation and transformation, on buildings of all kinds throughout the region. "Palimpsest" is the word that insistently presented itself in my mind as the most apt descriptor.
This photo essay represents only a small sample of this particular aspect of an ancient, yet still evolving architecture. I say "still evolving" because, while a few of these walls might have fallen into disrepair, the buildings that the majority belong to are very much alive, lived-in or in use. In fact, the first and last photos in this series are of walls from our own house; the others are of buildings from across the region, including Sarlat and Auriac du Périgord.
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