LAMP & CAROLIN
Gustav and Edith collected eggs from their chickens, grew vegetables and harvested honey from their bees. They were both deeply practical. This extended to Gustav’s job, he was a toolmaker. At home he used a vast barn to store hay, logs, chicken feed and an array of the tools he’d made, each one hooked onto a panelled wall, hanging over it’s own wobbly, painted shadow. From age 5 Carolin would make the short walk to her grandparents’ on her own, she’d head for the barn to find her grandad. It was a labyrinth of different levels, seemingly growing new rooms with each visit. She’d follow the gentle percussive hammering until she found him. He’d be bent over, bathed in a beam of light from a hanging lamp in an otherwise dim corner of the barn. There was a utility to much of his output, he built pens for the chickens, lean-tos to protect logs from the rain and hives to house the bees. But sometimes his arms would reach up to collect something from a dark shelf, and the pool of light cast on the work bench would reveal a rocking horse or a turreted castle or an engine pulling a trio of carriages.
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