Artsy Minds Sunflower seeds We’re all entities lost in a field of copies Our souls are strangled And our voices are muted He was born as a mass-produced, commercially available, and utilitarian object, An object that was given a name, put into a piece of cloth, and designated a Father. His tombstone read: “R. Mutt –” followed by the year of death. She was raised as one in a million, one piece scattered through a million of sunflower seeds arranged in a continuous rectangular grid upon which the Sun never falls An industrially produced, individually handcrafted piece of ceramic that was put into a shell, assigned a home, and called a Mother. And I – I was the childless child of these pre-fabricated items. Born with a heart of marble. A soldier of the terra-cotta army, one of the many collections of sculptures held in the imperial treasury living among the warriors, chariots, and the horses, and buried together with the officials, acrobats, and musicians.
Lia Calancea, Art History student, 2nd year, Museum Committee member 27
