FOOD FOR THOUGHT Last night while the grandkids were gathered here they were looking for a game to play. "Check the plastic tub in my studio", I offered, telling my grand-daughter where I keep my stash of precious savings. A bit later she came back, empty-handed and laughing, "that's a museum of games. Nothing worth playing." And, the others laughed too.
I did not laugh. I listened and took note. What's the message?
This morning I woke up envisoning a new art work - an assemblage which somehow incorporates the pieces of those relics - those games that have out-lived their newness. Perhaps wrapped in a heavy black plastic bag.
Doll Table at a Flea Market in Nice, France