not for sale
My parent’s flat, Germany, August 2012
‘I want one too,’ said my Dad in his seventieth year when my Mum got her Viech and put it on her pillow next to her Schlaf and her Bear.
‘Well, you never asked for one,’ said I.
‘Well, now I do ask,’ said he.
‘Well, which one?’ said I.
Now, at this stage my Dad got into trouble, I doubt he ever looked at any of my artwork.
‘Well, this one. I like this one,’ said he, pointing to Badger postcard that my mum kept on her nightstand.
‘Well, this is a print,’ said I.
‘But I want this one,’ said he.
‘You want this creature- sewn from fabric and stuffed with wool?’ said I, feeling a trap opening.
‘Yes,’ said he.
Click. The trap closed.
‘Well,’ said I, being in no position to deny his wish – having abandoned my Mum and Dad to go and live on the other side of the world. ‘This might take a while.’
Four month and ten prototypes later, there he was. He stayed in New Zealand for another two month, having to pose for photos and exhibitions, but then he left me to live with my Mum and Dad in Germany.
‘Well, there he is,’ said my Dad on his arrival.
Gees, do I miss all of them.