Gillian Polack (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gillpolack) wrote2006-08-03 07:22 pm
gillpolack) wrote2006-08-03 07:22 pm
Viewing Sendak #3
The children didn't wriggle out of the clutches of photography and sail away into the wild lands. And around me are the guides exclaiming how like their family photos his are. I counter with the history of the Triangle Shirtwaist fire and its effect on labour history. Honours are even.
I just noticed one costume sitting on the side, forlorn. I wish one of the children would wriggle out of the clutches of the chicken soup and into that costume and then get into Max's boat and sail far, far away. It is so wrong that Max's costume should sit on a peg, alone and forlorn.
Mum moves away from the soup and tells me how she makes herself look like Sendak's relatives who appear in Where the Wild Things Are. "Look at my eyes," she said. She put on glasses. "Now look at how big my eyes have become." I am too polite to ask my mother if she also has a trick for making her teeth look sharp and ferocious. Maybe I just don't want to know.
Finally a child has dressed up as Max. A boy. He comes to well above my knees. The costume drags on the ground wherever he goes. he is very, very happy. Max's friend cavorts in the crazy mirror, proving he doesn't need to be Max to be wild. I sit quietly and hope that no-one can see I am just like that on the inside.
A teabreak and I discover Rosie. I also discover that Rosie is really Kaaron Warren's daughter. I hope she has read "The Sign on Rosie's Door" and that she recognises herself.
And finally I wandered to the rest of the museum. In the shop I bought a Maurice Sendak poster and some postcards of a Melbourne synagogue. I am very happy to send them to friends. Maybe for interesting comments? Maybe if you can convince me you have a dream since childhood that these items would fill?
I just noticed one costume sitting on the side, forlorn. I wish one of the children would wriggle out of the clutches of the chicken soup and into that costume and then get into Max's boat and sail far, far away. It is so wrong that Max's costume should sit on a peg, alone and forlorn.
Mum moves away from the soup and tells me how she makes herself look like Sendak's relatives who appear in Where the Wild Things Are. "Look at my eyes," she said. She put on glasses. "Now look at how big my eyes have become." I am too polite to ask my mother if she also has a trick for making her teeth look sharp and ferocious. Maybe I just don't want to know.
Finally a child has dressed up as Max. A boy. He comes to well above my knees. The costume drags on the ground wherever he goes. he is very, very happy. Max's friend cavorts in the crazy mirror, proving he doesn't need to be Max to be wild. I sit quietly and hope that no-one can see I am just like that on the inside.
A teabreak and I discover Rosie. I also discover that Rosie is really Kaaron Warren's daughter. I hope she has read "The Sign on Rosie's Door" and that she recognises herself.
And finally I wandered to the rest of the museum. In the shop I bought a Maurice Sendak poster and some postcards of a Melbourne synagogue. I am very happy to send them to friends. Maybe for interesting comments? Maybe if you can convince me you have a dream since childhood that these items would fill?