This was bought a few days back in from a vending machine at the ice cream parlour (perhaps to use the word parlour to describe this humble shop is to engage in flattery rather, but it is so evocative that couldn't resist it).
You put in a 1 Real coin in a little slot, then turn a handle, and a ball, the specifics of which you have no choice over, gently tumbles down a spiral chute to a little shuttered container where you pick it up.
I had rather hoped for a marbled one, but I can't complain: that blue is the purest deepest most delectable Matisse. The ball had, and still has to a lesser degree, an exquisite smell, utterly intoxicating. It also bounces incredibly well.
I did offer J. one, but he refused, somewhat churlishly, I felt.
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I began to mess with this in the photo-editor but in the end left it more or less as it came out of the camera. Part of me feels uncomfortable about editing, as if photography should have some rules relating to truthfulness.
For me, in part, this means that if editing is done that should be apparent, plainly declared in the final piece. There is a responsibility in the artist to be honest. This idea is analogous to that in western theatre design, which eschews illusionism and magic trickery.
This idea derives somewhere from the notion that: truth + goodness +beauty = art.
But I happily accept that finding proof of these qualities in specific artworks is a mug's game.
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