When I think of rope it is such a humble thing, such a workman like product of the artisan. Such a simple thing with which to enthral the senses and to bind the body and spirit of another.
And yet, in this unassuming and humble item we find the perfect means for the expression of our desires to capture utterly the spirit, mind and body of another.
Our rope becomes the extension of ourselves that reaches where we cannot, that embraces beyond our reach and holds beyond our strength.
Because of this our rope becomes personal to us in a special way. Like the tool of a craftsman. So we care for and attend to the needs of our rope as we care for something with a value we cannot express. We prepare and ready it for its role, we care for it after use.
It is after all, an extension of ourselves in our most intimate endeavours.