rien ne vaut un lego. rien.
l’absolut est absurde et pourtant. Seems my childhood was woven in absolutes. Unaware but drifting INTO a market mentality I’d flow from Lego to Lego. Though each seemed to me a world of its own only fused by my hand; I had not yet realized they were all tied together in product lines and brand identities. Set after set, box after box, they were packaged realities, so little ambiguity other than the reach of my ingenuity. The were tailor-made or seemed to be. How did I ever think I’d had grown out of them.
After eight years I finally bought a new set. Nothing to regret. It sat in my living room idle. Eying at me, begging for me to fondle, its bricks its tricks. but eight years. Eight years is a long time to numb eagerness. One thing is to buy, another to have, and yet another is to BE having, all too often mistaken for behaving.
That I did, for two weeks I behaved, conditioned: there was work to do, to be done. The question, remains, taunting, the Lego eyeing. So I surrendered, fuck id. almighty id.
In a second, I found myself crouched on the floor, hypnotized by the schemes, rivet-ized by the teams, yellows and blues, blacks and reds dressed in cues. I sat there until friends came over. Blindly giving my minutes and hours to the set. No better way to reset.
When the friends left I played some more. In the morning I set an alarm, I had things to do, but it was necessary for me to start the day fiddling with the Legos. In the end I even woke up before the alarm… Hadn’t done that since I was ten… Wake up earlier than required to play Legos…
Eight years is a while. You have time to see things differently many times. As I followed the instructions on the page, the indications guiding me towards the “proper assembly,” I couldn’t help but to marvel in front of the clever color-coding, the clarity and efficiency of the wordless instructions and the magic of the pieces’ perfect tolerances.
Eight years later it was the first time in a really long time where I felt looked out for. There is a beauty to actively witnessing something that WORKS, without imposing itself on you. Any second I could’ve stopped, made something else. However, it was like a stroll through ones carefully crafted microcosm, where parts of the puzzle respect each other, absorb and absolve one another, I could see all of a sudden where my thirst for “perfection” had had time to thrive. Legos make the world and its humans seem deceivingly fixable. I honestly believe there is no such thing as FIXING society but I now see why I held on to such a belief for so long: it’s reassuring.
Surprisingly, the second I finished the set, I noticed I profound difference with how I would’ve reacted eight years ago: I wanted to give the set (a crane) a personality… Make it speak, or at least grant it a for of expression, perhaps to pull it out of the world of legos into that of unfixable real-life.