Hub and spoke.

Audio collective.

This is the lonely palette,

the podcast that returns art history to the masses one object at a time.

I'm Tamara Vishai.

It's a pair of light bulbs. They're hanging against a white wall.

Incandescent light bulbs, they're glowing warm yellow.

They're on individual cables that sort of they hang from.

There's a nail, I think.

A cable sort of fall looping around each other in that way that Christmas lights do when you leave them in a box too long.

When they hit the floor, there's a coil or a knot or something where the excess length

is taken up before they both plug into the wall.

It's hard to see from where I am, but I think they both plug into the same socket.

They remind me of like a workshop.

A set of lights, someone's just needed extra light somewhere and they've strung up a pair of light bulbs.

If I didn't know better, I wouldn't even think this was a piece of art.

This is someone needing more light.

Episode 68, Felix Gonzales Torres' Untitled March 5th, number two, from 1991. When I was growing up, my parents had this small, pleasant cottage in a small pleasant town in New Hampshire.

It was located, appropriately enough, on a street called Pleasant Street,

which was a few miles from Pleasant Lake.

And in their younger and spryer days, they would go for runs around the lake

and then come home sweaty and enjoy a cold, well-deserved beer on the porch.

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