The water had an impact but we were lucky. Our house, unlike some, was not destroyed.
Some of the plastic bins that we thought contained slightly oxidized cans of paint unfortunately stored my partner's personal archives. He discovered dripping wet slides, 40-year-old letters, cards, photographs, memberships, certificates, and cherished newspapers that highlighted important historical events. The whole lot smelled like bullfrogs and dead fish.
Memorabilia are like the breadcrumbs that Hansel and Gretel left behind to find their way back home. When our past disappears, we're lost. To quote an expression often seen on Twitter, "it's sad!"
We tried to salvage what was soaked by the deluge. I lay newspapers on the floor and we spread out the stuff to dry. Some of the letters were written in fountain pen. The ink ran and the assorted scrawls became illegible. Beautiful patterns emerged, some reminiscent of Rorschach tests. I had forgotten about the peculiar turquoise ink we often used in the sixties and seventies.
Cards were curled at the edges and warped like the waves that overpowered them.
The newspaper that documented the moon landing eventually dried but acquired personality.
As with all disasters, nature left behind some stunning artwork. Debris yielded interesting patterns and textures.
The inks on the blighted slides combined in exotic ways as they dried. What I find intriguing in the slide below is that even on a small scale (35mm), wave patterns emerge. These vestiges are particularly inspiring and will most likely feed an upcoming artwork or two.
Some photographs were also customized by nature. I may scan and post some of the more interesting ones at a later date.
The aftermath continues. I am moving my artwork into storage. The place has a sprinkler system so I've wrapped everything in plastic. After I'm done with the schlepping (I've been at it for 2 months now), I'll cover everything in a tarp. I'm somewhat anxious. Water seems to follow me around. The roof of my previous abode leaked and caused horrendous damage. Then the shower on the second floor broke and I had to repair the ceiling on the first floor.
Listen universe!!! I'm not ready for another amniotic sac just yet. Enough already! Water begone!!!
Some of the plastic bins that we thought contained slightly oxidized cans of paint unfortunately stored my partner's personal archives. He discovered dripping wet slides, 40-year-old letters, cards, photographs, memberships, certificates, and cherished newspapers that highlighted important historical events. The whole lot smelled like bullfrogs and dead fish.
 |
| Out to dry and to sort |
We tried to salvage what was soaked by the deluge. I lay newspapers on the floor and we spread out the stuff to dry. Some of the letters were written in fountain pen. The ink ran and the assorted scrawls became illegible. Beautiful patterns emerged, some reminiscent of Rorschach tests. I had forgotten about the peculiar turquoise ink we often used in the sixties and seventies.
Cards were curled at the edges and warped like the waves that overpowered them.
The newspaper that documented the moon landing eventually dried but acquired personality.
As with all disasters, nature left behind some stunning artwork. Debris yielded interesting patterns and textures.
The inks on the blighted slides combined in exotic ways as they dried. What I find intriguing in the slide below is that even on a small scale (35mm), wave patterns emerge. These vestiges are particularly inspiring and will most likely feed an upcoming artwork or two.
This image has circular deposits, looks stone-like, carved and etched.
A tree becomes part of an alien landscape...
...while this sky echoes Van Gogh's.
The aftermath continues. I am moving my artwork into storage. The place has a sprinkler system so I've wrapped everything in plastic. After I'm done with the schlepping (I've been at it for 2 months now), I'll cover everything in a tarp. I'm somewhat anxious. Water seems to follow me around. The roof of my previous abode leaked and caused horrendous damage. Then the shower on the second floor broke and I had to repair the ceiling on the first floor.
Listen universe!!! I'm not ready for another amniotic sac just yet. Enough already! Water begone!!!
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