Old Singer
This is an old Singer sewing machine sitting in a grassy field between Tatum and Bledsoe. Evidenced still, a finely constructed work of art. It is taking years to decompose back into nature. Non-electric. I believe, one pumped a trundle at the bottom, ground level with a foot spinning that wheel to turn with the energy to set your needle in motion through your fabric. An old iron and some other unidentified article sit atop.
This machine probably put together, with the help of its industrious housewife, clothing other than the “store bought” items the family was probably lucky enough to purchase in those days. The drawers would be filled with needles, safety pins, straight pens, buttons in various sizes and colors and of different composition, thread of various strengths, thicknesses, color: cotton, linen, wool.
I took this picture because we humans often see beauty in entropy….wasabi! Glued mortise and tendon or dovetail joints split gradually apart by cold, heat and humidity, desert sun. Paint fading, cracking, chipping. Wood grain relaxing its grip, softening, melting ground ward. I also chose black and white film (yes this was taken back when people still used actual film). Black and white seems to more quickly establish a mood that might require additional technique in color.
It might be interesting to find this old workhorse now, years later and see how far it has fallen in its journey back into the soil.