Saturday’s Wash

Saturday’s Wash captures a slice of Southern life when Saturdays meant one thing: bath time. The old wooden house, resting on blocks and framed by a wide blue sky, tells of a simpler time — somewhere in the mid-1900s — when life was tough but full of heart.

Front and center, three boys soak in two galvanized wash tubs, scrubbing away a week’s worth of farm dust with lye soap and sunshine-warmed water. Chad, the artist’s nephew, sits alone in the left tub, while Nicky (the artist’s son) and curly-haired Jonathan share the tub on the right. Behind them, the world carries on: a woman hangs fresh laundry on the clothesline, a cast-iron pot simmers over a wood fire, and a little boy peeks mischievously from the doorway of the outhouse.

In those days, drawing water from the hand pump was just the beginning. It started ice-cold, so it had to sit in the sun to warm before anyone could take a bath. And in larger families, the bathwater was reused — one tub for everyone. If you were young, you probably had to wait your turn, which meant you also got the dirtiest water.

Rendered with colored pencil, pastel, and watercolor, this scene celebrates more than clean clothes and bathwater — it honors the memories, routines, and bonds of family life rooted in resilience and laughter. A time when even the dreaded bath could become a cherished memory.