as a child, the attic closet was my source for dress-up clothes. the moment i cracked open the narrow door, the sharp smell of camphor air filled my nose. under the eaves, a lone window sent dim rays across two racks stuffed with our family’s winter wear. beneath the shadowed shapes of puffy parkas and long overcoats, I knelt to search for the buried treasure — my mother’s collection of the most sublime footwear.
after serving with the red cross during world war 2, mom remained in france to work as a cub reporter for the herald tribune newspaper. during her city rounds, she’d pass by small artisan shops filled with tailored suits and fashionable footwear. over time, she acquired a taste for shoes that fit her subdued elegance and yankee frugality. her collection was ultimately stowed in the attic to be preserved for special occasions. my imaginative playtime was a full-bore assault on these hidden gems. i tried on the gray suede ankle boot, a buttery soft skin that wrapped across little feet. i coveted the hand-stitched flat with rose pink leather piping that flowed around my ankles, perfect for swash-buckling battles with my brothers. and there were the dancing shoes, satin straps on a tapered heel that set my mother aloft in my father's twirling embrace. boy, could she dance in those shoes.
i began to draw shoes during my study and work life in italy. inspired by the proximity to milan's fashion industry, I would gaze into the windows along the avenues filled with the shoecraft of a thousand soulful artisans. i started drawing shoes as artful, gentle musings done in watercolor, oil pastel, ink, and once in awhile, i’d make a physical model. sometimes I imagine shoes as a small buildings; other times as more familiar forms. now, as I explore a.i., the shoe rush has returned. my first focus was a soft quasi-sneaker and a blend of sustainable materials with fluid form. the journey continues…
