Walls That Speak: Layering Art and Story in the French Countryside
One of the great thing about my job is all the lovely people I meet. Sara and I met at the Chelsea Barracks Spring Fair and she is full of inspiration and style, so I was really excited when she kindly agreed to write a piece for The Notebook. Do have a look at her book "How to French Country"; it will transport you to a world full of calm beauty and French country elegance.
A peek inside Château Montfort, where paintings meet pattern
by Sara Silm
When I look back at the road that led me to the foothills of the French Pyrenees, it feels less like a decision and more like a calling. I was born in Australia, and like many Australians, I spent much of my early adult life travelling: Europe, Asia, Moscow, Kazakhstan, South Africa. I trained and later taught colour theory and design, worked as a stylist and journalist, and somewhere along the way, life became layered with experiences that—while wildly diverse—always centred around home. Home as a place of warmth, of beauty, of comfort and expression.
Nearly twelve years ago, my husband and I found ourselves drawn to a rather forgotten corner of southwest France. We stumbled upon Château Montfort, a weathered but noble home in the Béarn. Two towers, a brook, a sleepy village—and something intangible. The sort of place that whispers to you and draws you in. We signed the contract four days later.
Photo by Sara Silm
Since then, Montfort has been both muse and canvas. The structure was solid, but everything else had that delicious feeling of needing love. We tackled the essentials first—roofs, plumbing, endless plaster—but the real transformation was slower, more personal. Rebuilding a home is a little like writing a novel. It’s not just about paint colours and floorboards; it’s about coaxing something back to life. Over the years, Montfort began to mirror us—layered, imperfect, and storied. Full of flea market finds, inherited treasures, and the kind of warmth that only comes with time.
A Book About a Way of Life
In 2023, I published 'How to French Country ', a book that came together gently over time—much like our home. It was born from years of renovation, seasonal living, and slow, thoughtful design at Montfort, but also from a career of writing for interior and travel magazines, teaching colour theory and design, and indulging a long-held love of photography. I wrote it, photographed it, and poured myself into every chapter, all as COVID was unfolding and changing life as we knew it. I’d often be painting a bedside table while simultaneously typing up a how-to guide on the process, then wiping my hands on my boiler suit before picking up the camera to photograph it all. It was hands-on, messy, and a complete joy.
Photo by Sara Silm
How to French Country is part memoir, part design guide—and really, a handbook in the truest sense. Not a rulebook, but something that takes you by the hand and helps you shape a home that feels like your own.
As an interior designer, I was constantly hearing from clients who’d hit a wall: a crisis of confidence, trouble sourcing the right piece, or not knowing how to work in a family heirloom or portrait without it feeling out of place. And after years of writing proscriptive how-to’s for interior magazines, I wanted to offer something deeper. Not a set of instructions to follow, but a way to help people trust their instincts and bring it all together with heart.
The book explores the bones of French country style—layering old and new, curating a fail proof French country palette, and embracing imperfection. But it’s also about the quieter things: colour and patina, provenance and texture, the market mornings, the way you set a table, and the seasonal rhythm of a kitchen.
Photo by Sara Silm
The Wallpaper That Sparked a Story
Of all the collaborations to come out of this journey, one of the most meaningful has been with Sandberg Wallpaper. We collaborated to create 'Le Village', a collection inspired by the gentle landscapes that surround me in the Béarn. Each design has a story—Mimi, a sweet violet motif named after my grandmother; Annabelle, a feminine floral, after my daughter; and of course, Montfort, after our village, featuring our poodle Adelaide, naturally. The designs were created to flow from one room to the next, each one in conversation with the other. The idea was to take all the angst and guesswork out of decorating, guaranteeing a seamless result with soul, regardless of which designs you pick.
Photo by Sara Silm
Wallpaper has this wonderful way of warming a space instantly. It’s like slipping a room into something elegant but effortless. And while some people hesitate to hang art over wallpaper, I’ve always found that’s when the magic happens.
For me, layering art over wallpaper is a bit like putting together an outfit: a patterned skirt, a scarf tossed over one shoulder, a bag that doesn’t quite match but somehow pulls everything together, a flash of colour in the shoes, a few rings and a glint of jewellery. It’s not about everything matching; it’s about everything belonging. Still lifes, landscapes, florals—they don’t compete, they converse. When the right piece is hung on the right paper, something clicks. Wallpaper, for me, really becomes the backdrop that lets the art sing a little louder. It adds depth, warmth, and a lovely sense of a life well lived.
My Top Five Tips for Using Art in a French Country Home
1. Gallery Walls Should Feel Like Stories, Not Statements
Start with a focal point and build outwards. Mix frames, styles, and periods—a charcoal sketch next to a floral oil painting, next to a tiny etching. It should feel collected over time, not bought in one go. The joy is in the slow evolution.
One trick I swear by is cutting out paper templates to match the size of each frame, then sticking them to the wall with a bit of Blu Tack. I measure down from the top of the frame to the hanging wire, mark that on the paper, and drill straight through the paper template into the wall. Once the paper is removed, you’ve got the perfect spot ready to hang your piece—no guesswork, no extra holes, just a perfectly placed gallery wall every time.
Photo by Sara Silm
2. Add Art to the Kitchen
A kitchen isn’t just a place for pots and pans—it’s the heart of the home. I love using framed florals, landscapes, or still lifes in mine. Art in a kitchen furnishes it, softens the harder edges, and takes away that utilitarian feeling. It becomes a room to linger in, not just cook in. They bring a jolt of unexpected joy, especially when paired with warm timber, stone, or earthy terracotta.
3. Don’t Forget the Powder Room
This is the perfect spot to be playful. Bold wallpapers, old portraits, or even humorous prints—it’s a tiny stage with infinite potential and… a captive audience! You can really have fun here in a way that might feel too bold elsewhere.
4. Grand Portraits Deserve an Entrance
We inherited a striking portrait with the house—a woman in a satin gown, holding a sprig of lilac, whose gaze follows you down the hall like the Mona Lisa. My children used to sprint past her on their way to bed. I, on the other hand, chat to her every time I pass. A grand portrait in an entryway sets a tone—it steps in like a grand old butler, a characterful meet-and-greet with every new arrival.
5. Use Art to Build Colour Stories
One of my favourite tricks is to choose a colour from a painting that complements the wall or wallpaper using the colour wheel. If your wallpaper has green undertones, look for artworks with soft peach or warm coral. If the room is pale blue, try a painting with rust or burnt sienna. These little harmonies bring a room to life.
My Top 3 Picks from the current Collins & Green Art Collection
This portrait is possibly not going to be available when the article goes to print. I’ve fallen deeply, deeply in love with her. She’d look so beautiful above the fireplace mantel in my sitting room.
What’s not to love about these tulips? This painting could go almost anywhere, but I think it would be the perfect pop of joyful colour on a buttery yellow kitchen wall—or equally, above an antique painted chair on a stairwell landing.
This French landscape just taps into that feeling of home. It’s so much like a scene from the Béarn region where I live, so hanging it on a wall in my home would be like framing a window to the world outside.
