|"Resurrection", 20x16", oil on stretched canvas|
"No heirloom of humankind captures the past as do art and language." — Theodore BikelEarly morning light, resurrecting from night's dark tomb, quietly creeps in through sleepy wooden blinds shrouded in draped wrappings of flowing gauze.
Suspended from a wire hanger center stage, a ghostly back lit form dangles enveloped in the distinct scent of mothballs. Filtered light sweeps into the room painting shimmery reflections along oak polished floors, while the scene beckons like the moan of a fog horn in search of a traveler missing at sea.
This is heirloom lingerie worn by my maternal grand, or possibly even great, grandmother? I had only recently discovered the ruffled petticoat carefully tucked away in tissue in the attic, when to my total surprise, the camisole arrived in the mail unexpectedly from a sister who thought I should paint it. Who knows, perhaps these two pieces were once a matching set? I rejoiced at the thought of this family reunion.
Hmm, I wonder what our clothing would say if it could talk? What tales and adventures would it reveal? My very proper grandmother is probably rolling over in her grave now that her undies have been immortalized for all the world to see.
Thanks for taking a peek in today.
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