A piece of mine was recently in a group show. Most of the time it was quite lonely, just hanging there. A very small number of people saw it, only some of them took more than a few seconds to look at it, and but a few of them talked about it to someone else.
My piece daydreamed of being that young African-American Olympic speed skater, or the brother-sister curling team, or a song played over and over daily on the radio, or a starlet on a late night talk show.
My piece couldn’t do a bicycle kick or dunk a basketball, couldn’t sing, couldn’t dance or play the harpsichord. It just hung there thinking out loud. I said, “Good Job,” before it got rolled up in plastic and stuck in a corner.
No comments:
Post a Comment