Interesting…
Having been totally overwhelmed by the whole job thing, with just one afternoon left to do, I find myself thinking about my own work again. I read Marion Michell’s blog
with new thoughts, prompting me to look more deeply at my own thoughts, finding I again have the capacity to do so. I look at the garments, and fragments of garments, and hints of garments, they prompt memories, and they are occasionally false… and sometimes hold evidence of truth.
EVIDENCE… proof… available information… traces… beliefs upheld…
Evidence of what?
The layers of fabric I stitch become evidence of love, the more layers, the more protection I offer my child, the more I love them. And yet it is a paradox, as I disable them with the stiffness of the layers.
It is about the show: “Look everyone! See how much I love my child!”
EVIDENCE…
The word is also relevant as I handle and work with these bras.
Evidence of self-neglect?
Evidence of poverty?
Evidence of a level of self-unawareness rather than self-neglect?
Modesty? A virtue?
I have been avoiding the issue of sexuality in these pieces. First wanting to explore the self-ness… the intimacy of how the wearer feels about themselves. There is not an asexuality, more a denial of sexuality in these garments…
But I run their imagined lives through my own mind, through my own filter of middle aged woman head…
What was this bra finally discarded in favour of? What replaced it?
Was this hidden from a partner? Does the partner care what the bra looks like?
Can I find evidence of love in these garments if I look hard enough? Love, desire, lust, passion, affection don’t disappear with poverty do they?
I am being presumptuous. I am only seeing/imagining the evidence that fits the stories in my head.
I draw these items, and photograph them as they are.
Perhaps my next task will be to make them beautiful?
