a good few sundays ago i set off early to montmartre. i'd drawn myself an itinerary. temperatures quickly rose formidably and in an overheated state i decided to rather follow my instincts {and an alluring metro-underground poster}, leading me to the musée guimet, to attend a simply gorgeous textiles exhibition on the tsutsugaki way of indigo dyes, using rice water resist for wax. yes. that is a mouthful, i agree.
from a chaotic heat outside to an airy upstairs gallery in a brilliantly cool museum specializing in eastern art; it was a first for me, and a welcome change from intolerable temps. as i strolled through japan, china, india and so forth, i kept on groping at my chaotic scrap of paper, at the bottom of my bag by now, having gotten torn and crumpled, between an overdue sandwich and an unidentifiable piece of fruit.
however, no crescendo to my story. but oh! is it ever nice today to draw back on the memory of the steps i took, the streets i walked, the chaos of the moment. which also means, by jotting it down yet again... i end up on order street, a most engaging state of mind. more chaos, perhaps also order, chez barbara this weekend.
from a chaotic heat outside to an airy upstairs gallery in a brilliantly cool museum specializing in eastern art; it was a first for me, and a welcome change from intolerable temps. as i strolled through japan, china, india and so forth, i kept on groping at my chaotic scrap of paper, at the bottom of my bag by now, having gotten torn and crumpled, between an overdue sandwich and an unidentifiable piece of fruit.
however, no crescendo to my story. but oh! is it ever nice today to draw back on the memory of the steps i took, the streets i walked, the chaos of the moment. which also means, by jotting it down yet again... i end up on order street, a most engaging state of mind. more chaos, perhaps also order, chez barbara this weekend.