In order to create the results they needed for the performance, the creators utilized hundreds of small baby and animal figurines, placed meticulously so they would show up on screen. It was interesting to me because when I was a child I used to play with those exact same figurines which reminded me of childhood, playing pretend with toys.
Inspired by Birdie
Inspired by Birdie
Children have such strange affections.
They spend hours playing dolls, building houses out of flimsy cardboard bricks.
Hours spent in this mirrored fabrication of reality.
Children, it seems, mimic the world.
As they grow, they seem to lose those traits.
Their constant questions, their perceived notions of the world.
Just as caterpillars do, as they grow, they change into something completely different.
And as they grow, they start to merge. Merge with the real world.
As it is, why build a house out of cardboard when you can with wood and cement?
Why take care of a doll when you can hold a child?
Adults don’t pretend the way children do.
Except for artists.
Writers, painters, actors.
Artists it seems mimic children.
Always chasing their imaginations,
Fleeting butterflies, trying to return home,
to when they were a child.
