Series: Clothes on Frames

 

Title: I Didn’t know how to feel about her.

These next few images are series of how I experimented with thin, transparent fabrics. I used old dresses and clothes and stretched them over frames. This was a process of letting go and experimenting with pressure.

I wanted to Document how easily these clothes pick up dirt, and the poetry within that.

It was like looking back at myself, a tangled, dirty version that hangs off this mundane structure.

 
 
 
 
 

Development

Continuation of this project…

Holding and Hanging

 

Outcome:

Creating and Destroying my work. Finally letting it go.

In my design 

I know the limitations,

this wound is something that doesn’t heal,

a healing sensation that 

only comes when I go.

What of this piece that holds me in,

a way that I cannot feel or remember my loss.

What of this memory that I share 

with myself,

there is a story,

that has  no  beginning and  no  ending.

He grips me too tightly, 

they said I should stop, 

stop wondering if this is how I am supposed to be held. 

They told me it doesn’t matter how the feeling 

hardens and stiffens, without ease,

But I loosen the thread. 

Bending a frame and a body without reason,

without reason,

I know the suffering, 

from what I've heard,

There is no end to this. 

Through an empty space,

my silence is heard, 

and seen by an eye that seeks no good.

You are the cloth for my skin, 

they said, 

whilst squeezing my skin,

I would like to wear you around my neck,

where these jewels and crystals hang,

swaying in an orderly fashion. 

Laying here, 

I know no bounds, 

although my body doesn't filter through this ground,

heavy as the flesh that holds me, 

I lay hoping to hold the feeling of lightness. 

What if I was dirty? I replied,

to which he said, 

I will cleanse you and your skin will be pure.

But what if the water isn’t enough?

What if I am stained?

What if my skin melts into these stains, 

and I no longer have this frame?

I no longer have something for you to hold. 

Would that be so bad?

Anais Delforge-Mistry