Toys don’t last long in the hands of a kid. Parts go missing, wheels fall off and limbs get amputated. Usually an old, broken toy is a sad sight. But there are exceptions when time and abuse transform a toy into something magical, an exquisite ruin much more interesting than what came out of the box. Exhibit A: something I found in the sandbox of a local playground.
I love found art. Always have. When I evaluate my own work, I look for an absence of effort on my part. Ideally, I should be a conduit, a means of turning something ethereal into something tangible. Put another way, I should be as involved in the creation of my art as a radio is in creating the songs it plays.
And if this sounds too artsy-fartsy, rest assured that I’ve installed a dishwasher by myself.
I tried making a painting of this and it was a flop. It was like making a painting of Michelangelo’s Pieta. Completely unnecessary.