Receiving a collection of aprons,
and holding each one up to the light.
Laundering, and drying, and ironing each one.
Dwelling in the contemplative caring (for) “service” and view.
The relationship, up close and personal.
Each apron, not factored (repeated) nor factoried;
but made by one’s hand--singly, singularly, and unique.
Each apron, residing as history (in its making, and use, and care).
...freshly laundered, dried and pressed,
and I... as such; fresh...feeling into these Scraps,
seemingly containing whiffs of other people, spaces & times…
Each apron, residing as a template, a pattern for such a form, for re creating or “recreating!” that very form.
The way or manner in which it was cut and assembled;
and in the “manner of flowers”, offered up.
Each apron, residing as vestment/investiture
intended and “worn” for purpose service.
Each apron, simply as Object itself…
the ever evocative beauty,
calling to the inner I of beauty/enjoyment.
These countless breezy airy confections.
March winds !
Melting snow
Uncovering leaves from long ago
Bustling and blowing
Of hair streaming in fresh atmosphere
Of aprons on clothes lines !
flags !
