The girl with dark hair was coming towards him across the field. With what seemed a single movement she tore off her clothes and flung them disdainfully aside. Her body was white and smooth, but it aroused no desire in him, indeed he barely looked at it. What overwhelmed him in that instant was admiration for the gesture with which she had thrown her clothes aside. With all its grace and carelessness it seemed to annihilate a whole oppressive culture, a whole system of thought. (George Orwell, 1984)
Life-size sculpture of my idylic bathing figure.
My 1989 diary refers to a similar scene while sketching on a riverside in Grenada.
One day, a young woman, undeterred by the teasing of her mates, planted down her basket of washing on a boulder close to my chosen spot. I rapidly made sketch after sketch until she had scrubbed, beaten, and rinsed her last item. But her day’s wash didn’t end there, for she next deftly took off her dress and added that to the wash. Then, unabashed, she soaped herself down and - using a calabash bowl as a ladle - knelt and poured the cooling river water over her naked body.
One day, a young woman, undeterred by the teasing of her mates, planted down her basket of washing on a boulder close to my chosen spot. I rapidly made sketch after sketch until she had scrubbed, beaten, and rinsed her last item. But her day’s wash didn’t end there, for she next deftly took off her dress and added that to the wash. Then, unabashed, she soaped herself down and - using a calabash bowl as a ladle - knelt and poured the cooling river water over her naked body.
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