During our time in Ottawa, on our way to Byward market, we would pass by a young artist working on this chalk painting. We watched it grow visually and emotionally. Every night he would cover it with a plastic sheet to save it from the elements, seal it with duct tape, and leave a note in the hope that it wouldn't be vandalised.
I found that the plastic sheet added to her melancholy and the boundary using found objects created a preciousness that contradicted her worth.
If only I had the chance to watch this magician work his fingers...
This wonderful bronze by Ruth Abernethy is probably the closest I'll ever get to a physical Oscar Peterson. Live on!
No comments:
Post a Comment