Years ago, when I was expecting, I learned the baby would be a girl. My husband and I went right out and bought a beautiful dollhouse built by a teenage boy we read about in the local paper.
Recently, Nancy Shohet West wrote in the Boston Globe about a new dollhouse show. My husband said, “If you go, see if you can find someone who can repair dollhouses.” (Suzanne’s needs a face lift.)
But we didn’t read the article carefully. The show featured art works from artists contemplating the resonance of “dollhouse.”
Note the foreclosed house with a Banksy on an exterior wall (above it, the only entry by a male artist, with tiny soldiers), the Japanese-inspired house, and the 1950s domestic fantasy house, below. It was a fine show, but I didn’t find anyone to repair Suzanne’s dollhouse.
The exhibit was in a renovated warehouse where artists have studios and where there also is shared space for entrepreneurs. The business space is called the Wheelhouse, and it features a common area for eating and relaxing, small offices with names on glass doors, small conference rooms — and lots of art.
I was surprised. The last time my husband and I were in that building we were taking a stretch class with a classmate of Suzanne’s, and the Bradford Mill was so rickety one expected the staircase to collapse at any moment. Times change.
The dollhouse show is up until August 28. Read more about it here.
Suzanne's Mom's Blog 