Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Mini Me, in a way
Dollhouse art studios seldom come to be the same way real sized ones do-Mini Me had a work table long before I did, and she does have much more space, proportionally. When she wanted an easel she didn't have to save up and order it from the Dick Blick catalog, she just asked and I made one and the glue was dry by the next afternoon. Any postcard or picture for the wall, any art book, magazine, drawing pad - boom, it's hers. No Amazon, trip to Pearl Paint, museum gift shop. She asks, she gets. But she pays a price, in illusion. Have you ever read a story or seen a tv episode where someone is shrunk or transported into an imitation of life? At the end of the novel 2001 the astronaut has books in the faux hotel room provided for him, but since they were imitations the pages inside were all unreadable blurred lines. In a Twilight Zone a married couple turned into toys for a giant alien child wake up in a house and can't use anything in it-the kitchen drawers were just fronts and the phone receiver was glued to the wall. Mini-me can't draw with her pencils or open her drawing pads or books, I imagine the postcards are too pixelated to really be appreciated. I love that trickery-like I love stage sets and museum dioramas. And it makes the real world, despite all its limitations and denials, seem limitless and amazing.