Wrinkles Are Poetic

Nothing crumples quite like good linen. And nothing grundges quite like black walnut and smoke tree. Poetic wearable expressions.


 The above photo is a wonderfully fine linen, printed with monster leaves from a very mature continus tree I discovered walking the historic Belleville's Signal Hill neighborhood. I'm told much of the tree lined boulevard are remains from establishment 1985 and many of the homes built from St.Louis Worlds Fair recycled materials.  Funny strange what is discovered in the old landscapes, cotinus is more or less a transplant not a "regional" per say. Hence I wonder whom purchased where and also the date of intentional planting. This particular stately cotinus is situated front assuming Mississippi River stone and brick, antebellum styled home. To me this linen print is a poem about a fallen quiet from a topmost branch, rooted one hundred years ago [or as I like to say agone }. ....long winds shortned> every tree has a story and every leaf is a summation of the tree's "agones" and every print thereof a Quatrain sing song painted in the color quiet.