I’ve been thinking about history a lot lately. It’s a design of my location for sure, but all the same, it’s where my mind is going.
As I scrub and shop vac and disinfect and white wash the space that will soon inhabit the life of my studio
I wonder at
for what it’s original use was intended~
And I cross paths with history.
Ancient rafters nail speckled and bird nest touched…
crumbling bricks from neglectful exposure by long forgotten tenants~
Rusted boiler sitting off in a corner of the sand stone walled basement.
Heaps of debris that most would wish to find only outside, not in ones attic
left overs from years of vacancy and decline…
and yet such beauty as well.
the craftsmanship of hand forged nails in
hand hewn floor boards
Left behind tool caddy and radiator grates
shelving and medicine cabinets
nothing is without a story…
under its layers of dust!
I choose to look past that
and let it tell me its story.