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| Over a period of about six years I photographed this figure sitting upon the plastics sorting table at the recycling depot. Since I never saw anyone touch her and I never did, myself, I was mystified by her transformations from Sunday to Sunday. She became a bit of an altar for the scavengers and fringe dwellers...oddments of adornment and fanciful haberdashery were visited upon her...yet if I asked about her no one knew what I was referring to. Sweet mystery. |
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| In the beginning, altho obviously well aged she wore red, red lips but by the time this was taken they had fallen from her face...leaving her a bit more blue...Out of work actor. |
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| We never knew who made her or who it was that left her here but Annie took it upon herself to give her a seat at the table and there she reigned until the years, the damp and the wind spoiled her beyond any propping up. Still we were loathe to see her go. The loneliness of a pole sitter. |
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| I lost track of the different hats she wore...we called her the flower child. Here she is a bit more sober than she was the next week when a wig was added, off kilter and screaming "help". This is taken before Annie had to tie her head up so she did not fall over. Dignity. |
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| This mask probably would have given me the willies if I had not seen it first upon the flower child... with that touch of basket couture it seemed perfect. I have several hundred photos of the flower child...perhaps I'll make another set one day, showing some of the fabulous offerings she was given and a few of the strange bedfellows that came and went over depot time. Friends from the wild wood. |
