This is the third post about the Brussels Toy Museum check out the others here and here.
I love these pink kitchen sets. Clearly an example of stereotyping in toys made for girls, the forming of sexual identity and the roles cut out for them by society!
I love these over sized dominoes left out on a table in one of the rooms. I makes me chuckle to think of adults using them with nostalgia; that they seemed so much bigger in small hands.
Jeu de Bagatelle the ancestor of the pinball machine. Placed propped up at an angle on a table and played with standard size glass marbles. Score keeping I imagine was written on paper.
Little sewing machine.
In this case you’ll see a crazy vinyl toy with a caterpillar and his three passengers: a monkey a bear and a clown. Below the sketch I did. Also, I love that (Bakelite?) merry go round and would love to see it in action!
Me with the director!
I decided to write a
Poem about the museum
On the side of the kiosk
Headlines call out “A Toy Museum in Belgium
Found to be a Secret Portal to a Forgotten Corner of Reality”
With a byline: Local Children Have Been the Guardians of this Hidden Gem for Several Generations.
It was my first possession this small object; a miniature version of a future imagined, Plaything of my dream
When I was green…
Well loved, with nicks, dents, or rust, worn out paint on corners, crooked or, broken and Then repaired, missing one eye, cracks; but absolutely sublime in the imperfections…
I read recently that “reality is imaginary” Let’s break away from conformity and choose our own reality
To imagine the world in small scale,
Doll measurements, is to understand what it is to have more space:
Discover a cure for claustrophobia.
Shrinking, projecting oneself down to a pocketable proportion
A desire a want to disappear,
To escape into a fantasy of my own creation
Agrandir just the good stuff.
Avoid the responsibilty of greatness,
The gift of vulnerability
Shirk challenge, reject reality, internalize.
My body is a toy museum.
I must shrink down to explore the inner room.
I see a shape, a murky form, it opens a door to an idea or a memory.
Discover the unknown, understand, find hidden forgotten items.
An interior voyage to deep healing,
The required action in exchange for a ticket to the next horizon.
A tickling sensation, something gently flutters inside,
Exciting such juvenile delight.
Flying by like screeching monkeys
A group of knee high individuals soar up the stairs,
Circle around a table, stop, look at that! No! Let’s go here
Down, through and back again.
Bubbling over with joy, exploding with the pleasure of celebrating this day, this place this dream.
What shall we play at now? I know: Let’s make a tea party- invisible liquids, pretend goodies, hosting for imagined guests.
Teddy bear in a tiny wicker chair, a birthday cake, a special occassion, such a lovely image, so mouth watering, some sugar, more presents…
Remembering rainy day indoor games, finding contentment in being trapped in a meloncoly grey room.
Retell all the details, hours passed by one game morphing into another until the floor was covered with the entire treasure chest.
When we were lowercase playtime was capital.