Hanging out

As people save energy by drying laundry outdoors, artists see the beauty of clothes flapping in the breeze

Flo Parlangeli (left) and Ann Jones, artists with the Rye Energy Committee, paint laundry drying in Lee Perrault's Rye, N.H., backyard. (Matthew J. Lee/ Globe Staff)

As a rainbow of paint splotches smeared her white apron, the artist stood back and beheld her muse.

In front of her, a clothesline flapped and fluttered amidst weeping willow and oak trees.

She squinted, dabbing here and dotting there on a canvas no larger than a traditional postcard.

Occasionally, she refreshed her 14-inch brush with globs of oil paint from a rectangular pallet in her left hand.

"It's a lovely way to dry your laundry," noted Portsmouth, N.H., artist Darlene Furbush-Ouellett, eyes drifting from clothesline to easel as she dipped her brush into a blob of violet.

"The clothing blowing in the breeze, the light and shadow . . . it takes on a beautiful form," she said.

For artists, there's just something about clotheslines; like landscapes and sunsets, they've long motivated contemplative brushes. And in this era of environmental enlightenment, these plein-air dryers are serving as another inspiration: Many people are returning to them as a means to reduce carbon footprints and save money on energy costs.

With that in mind, the Rye Energy Committee has launched the Wash Day Project. The experiment encourages residents in the seacoast town of roughly 5,200 to let the wind do the work at least twice a week for an entire year.

In turn, residents will save money on electricity; minimize their carbon dioxide output by 345 pounds; and, as an added perk, their dancing laundry will serve as inspiration for local artists.

An exhibit of clothesline-themed canvases portraying participants' backyards will be displayed at the Seacoast Science Center in Rye this fall.

"The clothesline is this image of how we used to live, and maybe that can be reclaimed," noted Rye Energy Committee member Mimi White.

Besides the ecological aspect, there are several other benefits, she said: Line-dried clothes last longer and are disinfected and bleached by the sun; articles drying inside, meanwhile, put moisture back into the air; and of course, "Everybody remembers the fresh smell," she said.

The project comes in the midst of a "right to dry" movement in New Hampshire.

The Energy Information Administration - the official US government energy statistics source - estimates that the average home uses 5.8 percent of its annual electricity on electric dryers. Yet at the same time, roughly 60 million Americans live in homeowner association-governed dwellings, many of which don't allow clotheslines.

As Granite Staters strive to reduce their environmental impact, many have balked at such bans, which generally disallow clotheslines for aesthetic reasons.

State Representative Suzanne Harvey, a Democrat from Nashua, is behind legislation that would prohibit such provisions against natural drying.

The Concord, N.H.-based Project Laundry List also serves as an advocate for homeowners fighting to let their clothes air dry.

The au-naturel way seems to have caught on in Rye, as more than 30 households have signed on for the challenge, and 20 artists have assembled to depict clotheslines in oil and watercolor.

Remarkably, though, many residents had already begun to shy away from their gas and electric dryers.

Lee Perrault, for one, has been hanging her clothes out to dry for years.

Seven, at least, she said. "The first thing we did - other than start a compost pile - was string up a rope in the cellar," the colorist and design consultant explained as she tended to a teapot and a tray of blueberry sour cream scones in her Rye kitchen.

"It's not so much to save money as to save clothes."

Just outside a nearby window, 13 articles of clothing - T-shirts, sweatpants, tank tops, skirts, a bathrobe with a lazy felt belt - in various shades of purple drifted on a light breeze.

On her pie-shaped, roughly 2-acre property, five artists hunkered over easels.

And, if observers were to peek over each of their shoulders, they'd see Perrault's clothesline envisioned in five completely different ways.

That's because, essentially, "You're painting light and shapes," said Groveland artist Ann Jones, wearing a white woven sun hat, cockatoo earrings dangling.

On her 14-inch-wide by 20-inch-long canvas, the full clothesline - with all articles depicted - was sprawled out in watercolors. Between her light strokes, she dipped her brush into a jar of murky water.

"I do have a dryer, I admit it," she said as she worked. But, she noted, "There's nothing like the fragrance of that sun-dried scent when you put your head on the pillow."

A few feet away, up on a mulched slope, Magi Leland of Rye chose to zero in on just a side-by-side pink skirt and purple shirt.

As she finessed the 10-inch-by-10-inch square linen canvas with her right hand, she clenched a quiver of four differently sized and bristled brushes in a fan between the fingers of her left.

"Time to do a few little touches and let it go," said Leland, who organized the artists for the project and is a Reiki practitioner by trade.

Furbush-Ouellett, meanwhile, went for a wider view, depicting five articles of clothing beset by a backdrop of trees. (And yes, she dries her clothes outside, although she admits to fluffing them for a few minutes in the dryer to prevent stiffness.)

As she silently painted, lilac bushes and purple hydrangea framed her view. Catbirds screamed from the overhanging oaks. Black butterflies drifted past.

Overall, the project brings "pride to an old practice," noted Leland, making the last few strokes and dabs to her painting just a few steps away.

In addition to benefiting Rye residents, the experiment has inspired some of the artists, too.

Randie Olofson, of Stratham, admitted to recently buying an Energy Star washer/dryer, but added that she was also motivated to string up a clothesline.

As she painted Perrault's backyard in harvest green, she shrugged, "It made me think: Why aren't I hanging out my clothes?"