“We have two kinds of yo-yos–with and without brains,” Bob Marsh explains to a customer at Toyscape, the cluttered shop he runs in New Town. Marsh is the kind with brains: though he wears a velvet jester’s cap, he’s a former child psychologist and art therapist. His partner Sandra Yolles works the cash register; beside her sits a white porcelain replica of a phrenologist’s head with its map of human character zones. Two adjacent zones–“humor, mirthfulness, wit” and “constructiveness, ingenuity, dexterity, contrivance”–might be the formula for Toyscape.
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Marsh demonstrates the Levitron, a spinning top that hovers midair in a magnetic field, violating Earnshaw’s Law. “A formula I absolutely don’t understand,” Marsh gamely admits. “In a sense it does nothing but create this sense of wonder. That’s what toys should do–open up a realm of possibilities.”
Some of the facilities where Marsh worked would prohibit the patients from watching television, a lesson he eagerly applied to Toyscape. “Too many toys are preprogrammed to be played in a certain way,” he complains. “It’s the same with TV. It’s a wonderful thing but it renders people passive. Particularly for children since it manipulates space for them. They don’t get to manipulate it for themselves. For children at risk it can actually be dangerous. Children would be better off with just cardboard boxes rather than most of the toys out there.”
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): artwork photos and Sandra Yolles, Bob Marsh photos by Jim Alexander Newberry.
