Clotheslines as flags over the city. Every building a construction site. Every terrace the pavement of a new floor. Every windowsill the starting point for colored clotheslines where shirts, pants and sheets shared space with shoes (tied by their laces), sheets of paper, books. Carpets, chairs and larger furniture was usually brought upstairs on sunny days to dry. It was not unusual to find carpenters and builders working surrounded by wet, beautiful cabinets drying in the air.
I haven´t seen so beautiful a drawing since the time of Henry Matisse…So alive, playful and poetically precise…
Who are you really…?
BEAUTIFUL! Fantastic poetry in prose! Love the depiction of mandolins too!
Reblogged this on David Emeron: Reflections upon Reflections and commented:
Wonder upon wonder to be found herein!. Such delightful imaginings. I look forward to reading more soon! Also, I should like to extend to you my sincere thanks for visiting my much less fanciful site. This is truly a wonderful and interesting project that you have here begun.
Lovely Mandolins. This entry reminds me of a visit to Italy one summer – everything is hung to dry. The small ‘hotel’ we were staying at only had a small yard, but it was strung with lines use to dry all the linens.
Thanks for stopping by and reminding me to visit – I always enjoy my time here.
Wow I am so glad you visited my site _ now I can follow your amazing adventure x your illustrations are beautiful too x look forward to the next instalment x
All I can say is “WOW!!” You are sooo talented.
I’m loving this blog and your ideas… beautiful work!