I've loaned out my mourning sleeves to some friends (whose grief is more significant than mine) but I thought of them tonight and would like to fling my arms out this way. [Interestingly, the woman shown below modeling the sleeves lives in Nashville.] Surely there will be great things to be born in this new future and something(s) must die to make way for the new, but that does not make it pleasant or easy.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Look Back
I take back the things I said about not mourning Knoxville. I am sad and anxious to be leaving.
I've loaned out my mourning sleeves to some friends (whose grief is more significant than mine) but I thought of them tonight and would like to fling my arms out this way. [Interestingly, the woman shown below modeling the sleeves lives in Nashville.] Surely there will be great things to be born in this new future and something(s) must die to make way for the new, but that does not make it pleasant or easy.
I feel better just looking at these images. Perhaps the power in costume (and the other pieces in this series, Costumes to Save Your Life) is not that they alleviate the feelings of mourning (or despair, or so on), but that they give the sentiments new voice and direction. A trajectory. I'll take it.
I've loaned out my mourning sleeves to some friends (whose grief is more significant than mine) but I thought of them tonight and would like to fling my arms out this way. [Interestingly, the woman shown below modeling the sleeves lives in Nashville.] Surely there will be great things to be born in this new future and something(s) must die to make way for the new, but that does not make it pleasant or easy.
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