Inside Wharton Esherick's house, it's a museum, the personal space, his work, his shirts in a cool pull out drawer under his cool bed, he built, level to the windows on his second story, with a view, from the top of one of the hills of valley forge, out over farm land.
The guide touching the table top, a long slow brushing, affection. Soon we all were touching things, softly rubbing items, everything, almost everything Wharton made of wood.
I leaned my bike against the wood wall of one of his buildings,... we were told that he wanted his home, his work, to be Alive, well she did'nt say alive, but,... living, to interact, his carvings and art, functional and sensual!!!
I road out to Wharton's home today, I'd plan to ride there with my friend Kelly Cline, yesterday. our wives would drive out, we'd tour the place, eat cheese and drink wine in his kitchen. but the weather, rain was foretasted for the afternoon, that bogused my plan, instead, I got out early and did a swell cx ride, of places I love, trails I love, trees, woods, dirt, fucking LOVE!
today, I walked back into the Esherick musuem shop space, with a road cleated click a clack,
and I knew the man behind the small counter musta thought I looked, like, familiar, I said "Hello",
"I would like this pack of five cards" placing the packet on the table, "I did'nt think my legs would get me up the hill", "thank you for such a nice night yesterday", ... I fiddled the cards into my cycling vest pocket, unfazed, he said, "it was a nice evening", "thank you".
what a really wonderful visit this weekend