By Winifred Jaeger
He worked on it every day, arranged dowels at odd angles, fastened rope and fishing line, sprockets and pulleys, a network of objects fashioned or found, plywood scraps, bits of shelving, wires wound in brass or plain, metal sheets cut to imaginary shapes. To an unknown purpose he filled his garage with this machine, leaving scant room for an array of tools and glues he had devised He added toy wheels, plastic pipe and kitchenware in colors fanciful to the eye. When all parts were connected, he plugged it in, and it thumped as it turned. It clacked, squeaked and groaned as it whirled in varied paths. He marveled at its dance.