My favorite found object caused me a lot of speculation and confusion, but I still love it to this day.  While writing a dissertation on the “flaneur” or urban stroller, I was well-immersed in the art and literature of the picturesque landscape-you know, the bucolic painter or writer who gazes in the distance and freeze-frames the scene.  There was a long tradition that became even more fervent as industry started to encroach on the countryside.  For example, while Rousseau waxes ecstatic about the pleasures of botanization, he interrupts his poetic speech when he  hears a recurrent clicking sound. This turns out to be a stocking factory humming busily in a clearing. Oh well.

At any rate, these stories had been on my mind although I embarqued on the more Surrealist quest to find baffling found objects in the flea market, on this day, Vanves.  I was near finished, a bit discouraged because most of…