We had to preview Tinker’s performance video project. Chantal’s condo at Forgetful Bay was all dressed up in 20th century modern, original Eames stuff, some Aalto, Risom, some stuff I didn’t recognize except to see that it was in the same ballpark as the stuff I did recognize. Most interesting was that nothing looked like a replica. “Great house,” I said.
“In which I have lived for many years,” Chantal said.
“My late husband was a collector.”
“Late husband,” I repeated.
“Bert,” she said. “He died right upstairs.” Here she pointed straight up at the ceiling.
“Good to know,” I said.
“I’ve still got the body outline on the floor,” Chantal said.
“That’s a joke, I recognize that,” I said.
“We’re going up to Tinker’s room for the preview,”she said. “You want something on the way up? Some cake?”
“You have cake?” I said.
“I do,” she said.
“Maybe later,” I said. I didn’t trust her.
To continue reading, please purchase a copy of Issue #1, 2014