"I get ideas for them everywhere, except when driving a car. I try and think of something slithering around and the next thing I know I'm in the ditch."
Thus last week greying, hulking Alexander ("Sandy") Calder tried to explain to the press the collection of mysterious objects made of bits of wire, scraps of bright tin, cardboard, wood and strips of felt which, with a grinding of toy gears and hum of little electric motors, bounced and joggled, slithered and woggled in the Manhattan Gallery of Pierre Matisse. Artist Calder called them...
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