"Dear Jack-in-the-Box, Know your audience- not everyone likes surprises."

"Dear Matchbox Cars, Have patience, you will not be stuck in traffic forever."

"Dear little alligator, I know the tiger is handsome, but he doesn't have your best interests at heart."

"Dear Angry Robot Man,
Sometimes anger comes from hunger. Protein will help." (in the last shot he has a yellow frog in his belly.)

"Dear T-Rex, I know you are lonely. Playing catch can help you make friends. Whee! Best friends forever!"

There are many experiments that still need to happen with the wings (and I need to cover the silver putters!) but here is a first look.

"Dear Play Dough, please remember- you don't have to fit anyone's box but your own."

These videos are experiments in the Ribbon Room. I reccomend going to vine to see them looped. (they're better that way) My screen name there is CaseyMiddaugh, or you could search for #elsewheremuseum

Also, lunch.

Plexiglas covering a crack in the wall, filled with beribboned human hair.

tapestry healing a wall (this is large)

door into contemplation room with a swing

We played Tapestry yesterday in Seattle with a small group that included a number of my family members as well as friends and a couple new people. Here's what I realized: Tapestry is an extraordinary tool for conversation. 

Every time we've played Tapestry the game has lasted about an hour, but people don't leave after an hour, they stay and talk. By that time, players have shared and laughed and listened to such an extent that the conceit of the game is no longer needed. People want to, at that point, follow up on stories that were told earlier in the afternoon, follow tangents, and listen to stories as a group instead of one on one. They stay. And they talk.  

If there was any thread that stood out from this edition of Tapestry, it would have to be the theme of familial love. Fierce love for children, gratitude for thoughtful and timely notes from fathers, family vacations that shaped adult-hoods, unexpected double births, and student concerts that leave no dry eyes. 

Because this edition of Tapestry included members of my family, some of the stories shared were ones I've heard before. (When your grandparents are in Eastern Europe and miss the telegram announcing the birth of you and your twin sister because they followed a mysterious line and ended up seeing Salome at the opera house for 75¢, that's a story that you will hear again and again.) But this time the familiar stories felt different, included aspects that I'd never heard before, were illuminated in new ways through the artistic interpretations of the players who had never heard them before. 

Every edition of Tapestry so far has included stories that are heart breakingly/heart strengthening-ly poignant. They've also included stories that are ridiculous in their silliness. 

The art that remains, the poetry, the comics, the drawings, the graphs (!) aren't really the point. Sure, they're fun (so much fun!). But by and large they are inside jokes to the people who created them, both the story contributor and the story collector. But the Tapestry that remains...this wall of shared connection. Man. That's just extraordinary. 

I was really hoping someone would make a graph this time. AND THEY DID! There were three or four of them, but this one is my favourite. It came from a story about food: for my grandfather's 70th birthday he specifically requested red jello and tater tots. My mind was blown, because Jello?? TATER TOTS?!? At my GRANDPARENT'S HOUSE??!?!! 

This turned into a scatter plot of, well, take a look...