But once a year, at camp, wet clothes—mostly bathing suits and towels—get hung by hand, on a length of rope, outdoors, using wooden clothespins, to dry, usually in shade. Those clotheslines outside each cabin are a favorite iconic element of Takodah scenery.
One of my strongest early sensory memories of camp—and not a favorite!—is of struggling to get a cold damp clammy bathing suit pulled up over my shivering resisting skin.
The towels on the line in my painting are torn bits of collage from a camp publication. At the moment, though still damp with matte medium, they're catching a warm August afternoon breeze.
work in progress