Houseball by Claes Oldenburg, 1996
Apparently the idea goes back to a performance in Venice, built around bundling your whole household into a sack you could just roll to wherever you were headed next. Same trick he always pulled — blow up something ordinary until it can't be ignored — except here the ordinary thing carries real grief: they say the permanent version was recast as a memorial for refugees, since this exact plot once held a church built by families who'd fled with whatever they could carry.
Erisava: Is that supposed to be someone's whole life, tied up like that?
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