Anyone who thinks that children’s books are all sweetness and light has not seen me with my face on my desk in handover weeks. Between trying to photoshop my way out of an impossible maze and deciding whether to italicise the names of spaceships (yes), I haven’t got much creativity to spare to do anything beyond put a series of images in one place. But watch me justify it as a creative decision.
An exhibition of Ai Wei-Wei’s work in Blenheim Palace recently came to an end. His sculptures were placed around the early-eighteenth-century stately home – integrated, not highlighted – a beautiful elephant in almost every room. So to replicate the strange sensation of walking into a conventional baroque state room, and then seeing that the floor is made of crabs, here is a mosaic of Blenheim, blossom and Wei-Wei.