As a 21 year old artist who has always had a washing machine and dryer inside their house (with the exception of college), I have romanticized the place of the laundromat. It may seem bizarre, but that is what I believe. Now, I'm sure if I had to constantly do my laundry at a laundromat for years and years and years, I am fairly certain that I would loathe the idea of such a place, but in my case, it's quite a unique place.
Laundromat (as defined by me): noun; a place where strangers come together or cross paths to wash and dry their clothing. These people may not know each other, but they are involved in the same act, and their lives directly correlate for just an hour or two, sometimes even minutes, while they wait for clothes to wash, spin, tumble, and dry.
I love the idea of each of these strangers acting in the same way, and observing what they do with their spare time. Do they leave their clothes? (where do they go?) Do they sit and wait? Do they read? Do they talk on the phone? It's so fascinating to know what a person will do with these hours of waiting for clothing in twirling machines.
Well, I was able to sit with Nikki at the laundromat, chat with an awkward stranger (who claimed that east and west coast accents are the same..?), and of course, sketch. Any place is a drawing place!
Here are my drawings from the wonderful, but not so pretty laundry place around the corner.
what is through
"and i felt love,
again"
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