everything’s a dollar in this box…
this morning, I am sorting through piles of the tangled, the cast-offs, the broken, and the tarnished.. There’s always something that happens to me… in these places. the piles themselves are nuanced by chance …today, an old wig, broken china, and one red shoe spilling out of a patinaed suitcase tell a story ….a beauty spelled out in momentary piles….we cannot help it…we are sympathetic and animistic…we love the tragedy of history. we love to put together the pieces which are only narrative by association. we are gifted with the ability to create new contexts for objects ( and people?) thrown together by chance.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment