WORDS BYBhavna Bhatnagar
What is it about a home in the mountains that makes the most stoic of us yearn? Why does stepping into a cottage in the mountains make you feel like you are finally home? What draws us to these little pockets of shelter and warmth, standing with and sometimes stubbornly against the mighty mountains? Is it the scale and grandeur of mountains that make these homes feel more intimate and comforting?
I know I have felt this deep, innate connection to mountains and have nurtured the dream of a home in the mountains for as long as I can remember. On the rare occasion that I grow a little too at ease with city life, the mountains call me back—sometimes stirred by the imp that is my orophile soul, and at other times through reasons of work or the pull of love for friends who have made these mighty mountains their home. A vivid reminder, always, that the best days are the days spent tracing the slow arc of sunlight as it maps the home in light and shadow, and then, as dusk settles in, gathering close to the warmth of a fireplace or the soft radiance of a lamp.
When I design homes in the mountains, working with the play of light and textures is one of the most interesting and satisfying parts of the process. Likewise, when I photograph homes, I am drawn to light and follow its journey and pit stops through the space, like a cat. The seamless connection, and yet, the perceptible contrast between warm indoors and the cold outdoors, fascinates me, and my photographs attempt to capture this almost sensorial experience.
This visual essay, featuring some of my favourite mountain homes, follows the gentle, pale light of cold mornings as it gradually stretches and warms into crisp, golden afternoons. And then, after a dramatic amber flourish at dusk, it withdraws, giving way to the reassuring, warm glow of lamps.
A home in the mountains, collecting pools of light and warmth.
I know I have felt this deep, innate connection to mountains and have nurtured the dream of a home in the mountains for as long as I can remember. On the rare occasion that I grow a little too at ease with city life, the mountains call me back—sometimes stirred by the imp that is my orophile soul, and at other times through reasons of work or the pull of love for friends who have made these mighty mountains their home. A vivid reminder, always, that the best days are the days spent tracing the slow arc of sunlight as it maps the home in light and shadow, and then, as dusk settles in, gathering close to the warmth of a fireplace or the soft radiance of a lamp.
When I design homes in the mountains, working with the play of light and textures is one of the most interesting and satisfying parts of the process. Likewise, when I photograph homes, I am drawn to light and follow its journey and pit stops through the space, like a cat. The seamless connection, and yet, the perceptible contrast between warm indoors and the cold outdoors, fascinates me, and my photographs attempt to capture this almost sensorial experience.
This visual essay, featuring some of my favourite mountain homes, follows the gentle, pale light of cold mornings as it gradually stretches and warms into crisp, golden afternoons. And then, after a dramatic amber flourish at dusk, it withdraws, giving way to the reassuring, warm glow of lamps.
A home in the mountains, collecting pools of light and warmth.
Homes Featured:
Maya’s Crest, Shiva
Dak Bangla, Mashobra
Mohan Park, Nainital
Bala House, Kasauli
Writer’s Bungalow, Ramgarh
Mountain villa, Hotham, Victoria
