Yesterday’s post left part of my library home unfurnished, so I am adding more today.
Tag Archives: photocollage
Growing up in New York, one of my places of refuge as a child was an old stone building on East Sixty-seventh street. Two heavy wood doors with big brass handles opened into a world of color and silence. The marble entry hall floor was cool and patterned. The smooth old wooden bannisters on the stair, had been polished by the hands of generations of children before me. A private club, for which admittance and independence depended on the ability to sign your name. Offering a place to think and indulge in fantasy, free for the taking to all who clutched the card . The library. The tall walnut shelves tickled the ceiling and a rolling ladder gave access to even its highest reaches. I often thought I could live there comfortably. Unfortunately,the chance to move in never presented itself, and I was probably too much of a rule-follower to risk sneaking an overnight stay. What if I lost my privileges ?!! After visiting the main branch on Fifth Avenue, although not nearly as cozy as my branch, I realized it had the lock on grandeur. Imagine being guarded by lions! What a home that might have been!
Faded shakes on the side of a building in New England conjure images of time, the sea and having remained in place for many years. Stormy skies and freezing cold matched wits with blazing sun and the wood surrenders its color. Beautiful in their own right, adding a simple sunset to the shakes is a perfect accent. Just as a single strand of pearls can bring new life to a black dress,here, a silhouette performs the same simple magic. Too often when creating a piece of art in whatever medium we choose, it’s so easy to go for the big add-on, over the top and screaming for attention. While there are pieces that certainly work in that format, over time, those that last are easier on the eye and on the soul. Simple beauty is a gift to be appreciated and cultivated.
A side porch in North Carolina is where I borrowed the ancient washing machine and abandoned materials. The weathered siding came from a garage in Tennessee. Together they hint at a time before everything was electric, fast and disposable.Sometimes taking a step backward isn’t wrong. My memories of my grandmother spending all morning with a wringer washer and hanging the clothes on a double line across her front yard are strong. My job was to capture the errant clothespins and corral them in a pouch that waved in the breeze.. The kitchen smelled from warm soapy water and the scent of the clothes was a blend of sunshine and zinnias. Detergents and fabric softeners can’t compete with the memory.
An old country door cried out for something extra. Wanting to prolong my seashore vacation longer than reality would permit, I used a photo of the shoreline off Newport, Rhode Island and divided and layered it into the door’s sections.It suits the mood of the area perfectly.