Jenny loved Rene Magritte. When she first came to Mills, to Orchard Meadow, she discovered the prior resident of her room had played a practical joke, covering the ceiling and walls with glow-in-the-dark messages and paint that you only saw when you turned out the lights at night. She hated it, and called me up in tears.
But, after she got used to it, she discovered it had sparked the interest of her friends. People began visiting the room to see the glow-in-the-dark messages. She decided to turn her dorm room into a museum, and posted Rene Magritte art postcards throughout the room. She kept a book at the entry for visitors to sign.
When Max picked Rene Magritte as his research topic for a project at school, he did so because he found her old postcards in a basket. He said to me that he could tell before checking which images were by Magritte. He laid them out carefully and set them by his bed when he slept. When he presented his Magritte project to the class, he brought those cards. I watched as each child held each card, as if it was a work of art itself, turning it, considering it, and telling others the joke, puzzle, or other interesting visual trick to find.
2 comments:
I love that story - and believe it or not, I still remember hearing her shriek from down the hall when she first turned off her lights.
That's great, Clara. Even though I was miles away, I imagine I heard her scream, too.
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