Grieving the Innocence of Twine...

Photo of twine,

a portion of a charcoal sketch

by Cliff Derksen



The “art show” is over and it is time to look ahead to new creative ventures in art.

I have begun another art piece, a large charcoal drawing. The theme of the drawing goes beyond “twine” but twine is certainly a key element to the work.

Our “case” had to do with twine or rope and in this creative process I found that I had to grieve the loss of innocence relating to my memories and experiences with twine.

I grew up on a small mixed farm where “binder twine” was a constant reality in our lives. It was a key aspect in the harvesting of straw, binding it into manageable bales for storage and ease of handling purposes. This of course made it a necessary presence on our farm.

It laterally became a part of our lives. Large amounts of it hung around the farm, since every week, bales would be used and the strings cut and salvaged. Binder twine became the solution for almost anything. It was handy, easy to cut, tie and thin enough to go through small openings.

As kids it became a toy, in the sandbox, on the yard playing horse or becoming a tire swing. We had fun braiding it into stouter rope...just for fun. It pulled toboggans or sleighs behind the larger school sleigh pulled along by “Doll” (our Clydesdale horse) taking us the two and a half miles to school. We would enjoy sliding over drifts of snow, we would run alongside, jump on, fall off, pull each other off and on till we were exhausted. It was fantastic fun.  

Further, it was the super solution for almost any emergency. Broken harnesses were repaired on the spot so the action could continue. Fences and gates repaired till one had time to fix it. It was used for suspenders or a belt to keep up our pants. In this case it became sometimes normal and not an emergency! It could be made into a quick halter, keeping broken pieces of machinery together while getting off the field, tying down loads on trucks and hay-wagons, tying up garden plants to stakes...on and on.

My daughter Candace did not grow up on a farm, nor have any relationship with the enjoyment of twine in this fashion. I am so relieved that even though she is no longer with us today, she is alive and well with no memory of the pain cause by someone’s evil and destructive misuse of something so special as humble twine.

“So she let then down by a rope through the window, for the house she lived in was part of the city wall.”

Joshua 2:15