I went to Scotland to see my Teacher. I stay with her at her house when I go see her.
Laundry is hung outside there, weather-permitting.
I was particularly smitten with the wooden clothespins I used to hang my laundry.
I wanted to make art outside by hanging paper on the line with the wooden clothespins.
My teacher and I went out on a wild and windy day, and painted out in the blustery rain.
We used dirt, some collected seaweed; we pulled out boxes of art supplies and took out anything of interest. One thing of particular interest was the box of watercolour in sticks. I did not know it came in sticks.
It was fast, messy, cold, and thrilling, our outside painting.
My art dried inside for a while, and I came back to it in the evenings while my Teacher played guitar with her love. Swoon.
I used the beautiful Conte set that used to be her mom’s. ‘Thanks Teacher’s Mom’.
When I came home, I got my hands on some wooden clothespins, to hang my laundry. My line is inside in my basement. My husband chuckled, and said, “that’s lovely, you know it’s not windy down here, right?”.
Still, the clothespins enriched my already beloved laundry ritual. Mondays are laundry day in my house. They have been since my kids were wee.
When I came home, I also got my hands on some watercolour sticks of my own, and some Conte pencils.
I wanted to hang paper to paint on, on a line outside with clothespins.
I hung a line of butcher’s twine on my back fence and hung different papers with the wooden clothespins.
I went out each morning in the Fall and Winter and painted.
I like paint in stick form.
I like painting in the morning instead of Morning Pages now (with all due respect – Morning Pages are amazing too, but words are harder for me these days).
I sat in my tree every morning until my thoughts ran clear, and I painted.
I recently found out that watercolour paper comes in ROLLS.
So, I hung BIG paper on my fence. With clothespins. (Plus, metal clips now for the big heavy paper).
I love it so much.
I keep a lucky clothespin in my pocket now.
I remember now: all last year I tried to solve the Art Storage in my studio for drawings and paper works. I looked, I researched, I thought. I looked, I researched, I thought. What I really wanted was a line in my studio to pin up wet paper, heavy pastel drawings and such, so they could dry or set, so I could see them and come back to them if I wished or to work further into them as desired.
If I put the paintings away, I can’t see them, they can’t teach me, I can’t keep relating to them.
When I brought home wooden clothespins after Scotland, I did what I kept seeing in my mind back when I wanted somewhere to hang my papers – I strung butcher’s twine everywhere I could in my studio and clipped my papers with wooden clothespins.
Just like my back fence. Just like my laundry.
Butcher’s twine is what I had on hand (best to do the thing with what is on hand, Halima). Twine, seaweed, mom’s old Conte set, clothespins.
Dear Clothespins, I love the feeling of hanging up my laundry in my Teacher’s yard in Scotland. Dear Clothespins, I did not need to know why I loved you, only that I loved you, and I follow the trail of love with whatever I have on hand.
My small feelings matter. Small things matter to me when growing a big thing.
The Evolution of the Clothespin.