Yesterday, while returning from my slow but triumphant lap of the local botanical gardens, I walked home via the main drag and came upon this bicycle rugged up in a fetching, red, knitted outfit that had obviously been crafted specifically for it. Even stranger, the bike stand supporting it was also decked out in a homemade, likewise tailored "jumpsuit". 
My finely tuned Art-dar immediately suspected a local initiative - perhaps a comment on the coldness of winter and those loyal, everyday objects we betray by unthinkingly leaving them outside to weather the frigid blasts while we selfishly sit inside close to the heater and ply ourselves with hot soup, or perhaps merely a humble effort to counter the drabness of these greyer days - so I hefted my trusty camera and went sleuthing. And lo and behold, I turned a corner and came upon much craftiness covering the local library, complete with tags to indentify the various contributors to this ambitious plain and pearl project. 
My favourite was this ever so cute but frighteningly realistic, knitted dog turd (an installation piece signifying that all the world is merely crap? An earthy, handiwork thesis on bodily processes and the way animals, unlike humans, accept excretion as a natural part of living? Or was it simply inspired by the knitter having some leftover yarn in a certain shade of diarrhoea?) In essence merely a looped tube of structured yarn, it could have become so many things (a worm, chopstick warmers) but its creator chose to make it a non-steaming pile of canine poo. I can feel the love that went into patiently producing this poignant piece one stitch at a time. And hear the giggles as the finished woollen sausage was cast off. Giggles are good. The older I get, the more I believe that Art could do with a few more meaningful giggles.
No comments:
Post a Comment