I’m very familiar corn, the edible kind that’s smothered in butter and salt. This kind, not so much. The husks were remarkably pliable, due to the humidity from being outside in a field. Playing with this ear of corn surprisingly became an exercise in fabric draping. I affectionately call this “Green Giant meets Issey Miyake”.
I purchased an oversized scarf while visiting India in November, 2017. It was cashmere and an unlikely addition to my wardrobe. I tried to wear it after returning to NY, but I could never find a comfortable way to wrap it around my neck. It was suffocating. I also think it was intended for a woman. This photograph reminds me of my struggles with that scarf.
When I peeled back the husks, the last one was quite sheer. I thought there was something a bit naughty about this, as if I was about to expose too much. Revealing just a few of the kernels seemed more tasteful and modest. Even if it is just an ear of corn.
Every picture tells a story: two ears of corn go skydiving. As they’e plumet through the sky, one parachute opens, the other chute fails. One ear of corn clings to the other for dear life. They float safely to earth, although one ear of corn never goes skydiving again.
Is it possible for two ears of corn to tug at your heartstrings? I see one of two things. Love and comfort, of one for the other. This gives me warmth. Or fear, as one holds onto the other for protection. This make me feel pity. After this photograph was taken, they ended up in the backyard where the squirrels and birds feasted for the afternoon. Pity, I guess.
My older sister taught me to sew at an early age. My younger sister’s Barbie was my muse. So, for many years I’ve had a fascination and appreciation for fabric. As I peeled back these layers of husks, I was surprised (look for it) to find an animal print, thanks to this fashion-forward ear of corn.