So who says it’s art anyway?


How big a part does context play in determining aesthetic merit? Not the conundrum I expected to consider on a morning’s North Beach ramble with Bella my seashell-crunching terrier. And all because of a discarded chocolate bar wrapper.

Tail wagging furiously, Bella led the way down the narrow sandy path and soon I could feel my tension dissipate with every scrunching step on the familiar carapace of crushed shells and sandy grains. 

Continue reading