This short piece of poetic prose, written by my friend who prefers to be called CF, lingers on the quiet presence of a simple, essential garment: the artist’s smock — worn, marked, and carrying traces of the day’s slow, deliberate gestures.
Aude’s studio smock is made of beige linen.
Faint indigo stains linger from last week’s sculpture dyeing.
The smock has large, deep pockets.
In the right pocket:
a spool of fine linen thread,
a felt pen,
a swatch of dyed linen,
and a sprig of lavender.
In the left pocket:
a folded piece of paper —
a list of errands to run this afternoon.
CF
