Over the years, I have found lots of balls, mostly in the park. I bring them home, ignore them, clutter the house with them. Every once in a while Mike gathers some together and brings a bag of balls to the Seattle Animal Shelter, where they might bring a little joy to dogs much less fortunate than I (which, truth be told, is pretty darn near every dog). That’s what we will ultimately do with the next batch, which Heather culled from the big basket by the front door. This time, however, she arranged them in a complementary ceramic bowl, and what were once considered mundane spare balls took on a patina and lustre and richness as classic as a still-life painting of a bowl of apples, oranges and pears. It was a true work of art, a psychic collaboration of Heather and me, packmates, an unplanned moment and yet aspiring to greatness. A sculpture that should go in a museum, or at the least sit in a featured location in our living room.
Alas, as with most art, our collaboration proved ephemeral.. The very next day Mike took all the balls out of the bowl and transferred them into a clear plastic bag with some other ones saved previously, and dropped the bag off at the shelter. With luck, some dogs will appreciate them as usable art.