I’ve been fascinated, off and on, with the story of the sweet little mystery sculptures that appeared in Scotland throughout 2011. A person (now identified but left anonymous at her wishes) left ten tiny, exquisite carvings and twists of paper, each made from an Ian Rankin crime novel (one of my husband’s all time favorite authors) in libraries and other bookish locations across the country.
While I’m partial to the wee dragon nesting in an egg found in my old stomping grounds of the Scottish Storytelling Centre, I LOVE LOVE LOVE the teacup from the Edinburgh Book Festival, and the gramophone that graced the Scottish Poetry library. This year, the same mystery artist sent Ian Rankin a series of paintings related to his life and writing history, but she never has come forward with her name–and her last two statues were never found. Only eight were discovered.
There are numerous online links if you want to read about the whole story. This one has the best photos. http://thisiscentralstation.com/featured/mysterious-paper-sculptures/
And every time I look at these pieces of art, and think about all the books that come into our shop, too old, too outdated, too worn to live on, I think about these statues.
God grant us all such a dignified end!