If you get hayfever, you need a man's hankie. Like a good book, it has multiple leaves that fold back and give comfort to a suffering wet nose. As a child, I remember ironing all the family hankerchiefs. There were always dozens in the pile because we all suffered from hayfever. After coming off the Hills Hoist and out of the blistering Adelaide sun, they had to be first misted with water. Only then would the wrinkles iron out into the silky, smooth receptacle that we always carried in our pockets.
As a teenager, I graduated to men's hankies, they always seemed more practical. My father and grandfather were both carpenters. I remember playing in the sawdust on Grampa's workshop floor and the interior of his coffin, padded with black cloth. I have added a spirit level to the art piece in remembrance of them both.
This work by Louise is exquisite in its detail. The hankerchief dyed black, the craftsmanship in the cushioning and the added detail of the spirit level and tassle.
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