Marilyn is obviously her own type of oyster. Pearls dangling at either side of her neck-chin-cheeks; matching a pearly three-square pendant, hovering just above a modest neckline. A head-to-toe cobalt queen. Clever clothing is at the heart of Marilyn’s packing philosophy; the theory of multiplicity. Light weight scarves a close second. It’s as though the scarves served to reflect both her ingenious and plan rich epitome of bag packing, as well as, necessary alternatives for spacious, and at times, reflective perspectives.
Having lost her glasses in Sienna, Marilyn suggests to keep a pen and sometimes lipstick in the case with her spectacles. She also buys deliberately creased items of clothing- clever clothing- that are supposed to be that way.
‘see this blouse, creased, because it’s supposed to be, that’
Marilyn is also what you call a Winter.
‘I am what’s called a Winter’, said Marilyn.
The light-hearted day activity turned heavy-heart; on the first and now fourth calling up to display Marilyn’s- my anxieties as– scarf variations. An inner storm began to surge. Between internal shivering, amid black-ins and outs; involuntary muscle movements, and, some coherency towards scarf form, hands held one another tightly around back. Although somehow, this time, among the usual display of chaos, there was a rare surrender. With each and every call up, the perfumed, shucked oyster of multiplicity began to call down the layers. My being became sort of steady-fast with the shape-shifter. An oblong enjoyment of raw misplacement within Marilyn’s temporary adult learning Emporium.
‘What palette would I be?’
‘Oh, you are definitely a winter’
Winter slowly gave in to each and every change, each and every direction, and, each and every gaze. Resistance left with summer. The only other identified season within the classroom, who apparently has tactile sensitivities and trackie distaste. Marilyn believes summers talk with their heads on the side, and autumns are by far the best company directors.
The way she poetically compared personalities to colours and seasons made for much excitement to relay her stories, as if everything was already done, already perfected. There was no need to add glitz or excitement to her formula, her performance.
She had successfully confined- bathers to ballroom- within seven kilograms of Samsonite. Leaving a tiny segment of time for the formalities of men’s luggage, and, the singular male student. Who seemed more interested in pretending to be architecturally knowledgeable; peering up at the shell holding the room together, theories aside.
‘If your friends with an autumn, you’ve got a friend for life’ – Marilyn, WEA Teacher, How to Pack for a Holiday
The image is a light-bulb from this year, peering through artwork from 2007.