This post is the second in a series about visiting the last intact silk mill in the US. For the first post in the series, click here.
When entering the old mill, I was instantly wrapped in a sense of place, of people leaving and nature entering the old building and reclaiming it.
Old crumbling walls have attractions for textile artists. We don’t just see something in disrepair, we see the passage of time, the evocation of memory created by patina, the beauty in eroded surfaces etched by weather and accident.
I find myself drawn to these things. My photo archives are full of the textures and lines of buildings and streets, as well as the decay of natures surfaces, leaves, mud, and rocks.
I also think of the principle of wabi-sabi, the Japanese esthetic of seeing beauty in imperfection. Richard Powell distills the concept in his book, Wabi-sabi Made Simple, “Nothing lasts, nothing is finished, nothing is perfect.”
Many windows are broken.
Others stand by.
Leaves blow through the open windows.
Keep the machinery oiled.
Catch any drips.
Fire is no longer the danger, but the rain is. Such beauty and such sadness.
