Friday, July 31, 2009

Where clean begins

Not quite forgettable
London, ON, July 2009 [Click to enlarge]
About this photo: It's laundry week all week long as Thematic Photographic explores the process of taking dirty clothes and making them clean again. I realize it seems odd, but if it challenges you to get out of your photographic comfort zone, then it will turn out to have been a worthwhile choice. You game? Click here.
You see things differently when you've got time to kill and not a whole lot to do in the interim. While I sat on an old church pew waiting for our clothes to finish tumbling, I found my eyes wandering around the laundromat. Where some folks might find a place like this to be forgettable, or even ugly, I would beg to differ. There's something honest about a place that doesn't pretend to be anything more than it already is, that goes about its business quietly without drawing much attention to itself.

The more I think about it, the more I realize the same kind of thing applies to people, as well.

Your turn: This scene could tell so many stories. Got one?


Dianne - Bunny Trails said...

Okay, it's not really answering the question, but I'm like that sometimes. And rather than being reflective, I took a humorous approach to the laundromat last year.

Gyrobo said...

The polished chrome and monochromatic sepia coloring make me think of a bygone era where people tried to simulate a far-off future without realizing how similar it would be to the (then-)present day.

I salute you, trailblazers! said...

I always find it a bit odd that people go to a shop to get their washing done, I don't think Ive ever been to a launderette! when we couldn't afford a washing machine we washed by hand so a Launderette is alien to me, like a different planet.

Maybe I should visit one day.

b13 said...

I was thinking "where dirty ends"...

Half full, half empty ;)

Pamela said...

"I remember when I could wash and dry four loads for two bucks," Beverly sighed, wiping the back of her hand across the forehead. As if that would stem the moisture collecting on her forehead. The beads would soon gather and run slowly across the rouge covered wrinkles on her cheek bones.

At least the joint had a change machine.

"But," she added, "I wouldn't go back to diapers and togs if you paid me."

She sat a full basket at her feet and slowly began the task of folding and stacking.

Neon lights blinked and fluttered on to let the night crowd know that the "Suds Ur Duds" was open 24 hours.

"Hold your pants on," she yelled when the Taxi's blaring horn announced that her horse and carriage had arrived.

Bemused by the act of carrying every last piece of clothing she owned in one basket, she grinned and shook her head.

"I need a cigarette."

Anonymous said...

I love the photo and all i can think of is this is a place I would rather not be. It's work LOL

Anonymous said...

This reminds me of the place where Crazy Larry cleans the bloodstains off of his "Killin' Suit" after he has finished off another victim.

I am here to cleanse the world.

Crazy Larry
coming soon to your town

awareness said...

It's a timeless photo.... and it could be anywhere. I really like it.

What i love most about laundromats is the aroma of the combined soaps and softeners that filters through the air.

Mojo said...

Oh if only I had the time. It would be completely fictional mind you, but this could be the very setting for two of destiny's children to meet and fall in love... probably wrangling over the last available dryer. She doesn't think very much of him at first. After all he's trying to ace her out of the only remaining machine in the joint without an "Out of Order" sign taped to the door. The he gently suggests that the drum is big enough for both of their loads, and in the spirit of chivalry he'll even feed it the coins it requires to do the job. There's something in his eyes that's impossible not to trust and really, it's either that or wait for another machine and who knows how long that will take?

But the final seal of the deal comes when the clothes are dry and in the process or separating his form hers, he accidentally picks up one of her "underthings". The flush of crimson in his cheeks is simply too endearing to resist and the end of the evening finds them staring longingly into each others' eyes over a candle stuffed into an empty, wax-coated Chianti bottle.

Man, did I really write that?

I'm such a sap.

Thematic Photographic 60: "Laundry" v.3.0 - "Knob Hill"