Thursday, September 20, 2012

Gathering the Magic of a well lived life

 
As I drove up to the antiquated mansion the estate sale signs were staked in the front lawn as a lingering reminder of the  loves and years of gathering  soon to be sold in separate fashion.  It was a bit sad because I knew the Widow. We had taken tea on that porch and talked in her parlor of ladylike indiscretions.  Her richness was held in years of gathering the golden threads of pure beauty all together in one glorious skein of fluffy loveliness. She was a curator of
sorts...



To think that in 7 minutes eger buyers would converge, hoping to find a treasure, kind of unsettled me. I was in line with all the others waiting to capture something that  reminded me of the grand lady and her grand stories.




In my artwork my eye is one of my best assets. I purposely search out the random beauty and serendipitously merge it with my style of creating.   So, as the clock struck 4 o'clock I set out to collect stories.  After the initial serge of raw nostalgia I entered the home and went from room to room. I was lead by the flow of people coming and going... or maybe it was the exquisite tug of feminine energy pulling me along. I entered a room I had never been in before in the upper part of the house.  There were attendants in each room to help the shoppers and a sweet lady greeted me as I entered. We were by ourselves and the lady asked "did you know the Widow?" I said yes and brushed the surface of how we were acquainted.  I explained that I am a doll maker and I look for small pieces of fabric.   She happily directed me to a closet.......

The small old fashioned closet was very un-assuming but as I opened  the door I was greeted with the joys of something 

 
 
 

completely unexpected. Garments of another time grabbed my hand and begged to tell me stories...  My gaze settled upon 1930's burlesque/ vaudeville attire.  I was, needless to say in awe, how well did I really know the Widow and what stories could these fabulous garments tell me.  the garments had been packed away for decades. They had been pulled out of an old wax-like cardboard box laying at the foot of the closet.  I picked up the box and placed all of the fine sparkled costumes inside.  One was the deep color of a male peacocks feathers as he was in full strut.


I was so very enchanted by the attire and I had to add them to my collection... of memories and stories yet to be told.  This dear lady that had been such a vital supporter of my life had her own magic...her own sparkle...... and she waited until just the right time to share it with me...