Fedex picked up Ingrid and more this morning in Zurich, packed as dangerous goods in 4 big heavy parcels, leaving tonight for Paris where they will change the plane and head for LA, after passing customs in Memphis.
I skipped the lunch break and turned towards my ipad and a bottle of Ingrid and sketched a naked flacon of Ingrid. Now, I sit outside of my “factory” which consists basically of two rooms, on a bench in front of the pizza take-away, with a coffee next to me, glimpsing into a late October sun, under a blue sky. It is warm, much warmer than usual for end October and I am still sweating from carrying the parcels for Spain to the local post.
It is a good moment. The orders are out and, if all goes well, all will be set for Ingrid and her appearance in Los Angeles. And my visit there. It is a moment to take a deep breath and in a sense, I feel that my illustration, as sketchy as it is with little time and care going into it, is part of this moment. I haven’t had time to sketch lately. Too much work , too much going on, too much noise everywhere. Sketching Ingrid was a moment of peace, feeling a bit proud, and in a sense relieved. Finally it is out. I love the label and looking at it while trying to bring it onto the ipad screen I feel how memories come back. Endless phone calls, forth and back, so much work on details, together with Brian. Details hardly anyone seems to realize, I feel sometimes. I remember packing the first 60 bottles of Ingrid. A lot of work, and we wondered, my partner and me, wrapping and labeling for hours. What for?
I love the idea of Ingrid sitting in a plane’s big silvery belly. Gently shaken over the ocean. It is one of these miracles of our times: Logistics, global supply chains, with bottles from France, labels from Germany, essential oils from exotic places, an assembly in a little room in Zurich, and a Fedex man picking it all up. I will fly to LA, for almost nothing, as tickets are still very cheap these days. The logistics of transporting human flesh from here to there: A temporal exception, maybe, and there is no saying whether generations after me will still be able to enjoy a flight over the Atlantic for close to nothing.
I had a hard time sketching the flacon’s form. It has many curves and getting these right is not easy. I was trying colors, too, but decided against any color. The black and white lines bring out one quality that I love about Ingrid: It leaves room to imagine her, the scent’s secrets, the hidden, the protected, the uncertainty, guarded behind layers of beauty and masquerade.
Outside, on the other side of my bench, cars and trucks pass by. It is an industrial and an industrious area. A constant movement of things and people.