debris, flotsam and derelict of winter

debris

Single gloves and mittens – the debris, flotsam and derelict of winter. Abandoned by their possessors. Longing for their partner, comrade and brother-in-arms. First with hope of rejoining, then bit by bit adjusting to the unavoidable conclusion that a mitten returning home without its better half is bound to commit sati – to throw itself on the partner’s metaphorical funeral pyre. Maybe they can be together in their afterlife, once again twining their fingers together in death-defying passion. Meanwhile the mislaid ones are put to stand here like stuffed animals as a crude commemoration of the indifference, haste and inanity of their former holders. Still, where is the incentive to go back to look for a lost mitten in a society made to think that it ends up in the putrid swamps of economic recession if it stops to throw away and buy anew? Who dares to challenge their ideological master, and go out looking for their lost one, find it, take it home, let it warm up, maybe take a bath, dry up, an rejoin with its spouse in the second drawer…

derelict flotsam silhouette

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debris, flotsam and derelict of winter

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