Mountains of sugar-cubes, shaped like a castle. A city of towering till-rolls (pictured). Walls covered with the same salmon-skin tiles. Hours and hours of painstaking, boring and repetitive work. Viewed up close, it looks haphazard, senseless. Yet from a distance, it begins to make sense.
One scrap of paper on its own is litter. But hundreds of pieces, hung together just so – and you’re looking at something else – something startling and lovely. The fragments seem insignificant, meaningless. But taken as a whole, they have identity and purpose.
Our flaws have the capacity to be great gifts. One person’s OCD is another’s art installation. What seems like useless sorting is also a talent for detail. That’s the thing about redemption. It starts with who we are and uses every part.
We can spend our lives hating our foibles, or we can see them transformed into something extraordinary. Sometimes what matters isn’t the label we give these things, but what we do with them instead.
One person’s vision transforms the mundane into the beautiful. Or maybe it just helps us see what’s already there.