I’m very proud of finishing this jigsaw puzzle of a thousand pieces (20 x 18 inches). My daughter bought it for me as a present, partly on the theory that doing it would improve my brain function. Something about problem solving. Good luck with that. It could be a futile endeavor, though I like to think I’m now smarter than I was two weeks ago. She seems to think that doing puzzles is better for your mental capacity than reading books or learning mathematics. Seems wrong, but since I’m addled, how would I know?
It took considerable effort, for me at least. The way I am, once I started, I had to keep going and finish. While doing the puzzle, I was having dreams about it, putting this piece there, the strategy for finishing. It was like an earworm, but visual.
One interesting thing, you are often not able to identify where a piece goes by matching it visually with the finished picture. When you do find where it goes, it can look very different. The whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Maybe Foucauld or another of those French characters could explain it.
This one may be easier than others of similar size, since most of the pieces for the billboards and posters for the Broadway shows are quickly identifiable. The tough parts are pieces that are just a solid color.
Alas, when I proudly showed the finished product to my wife, she immediately noticed a piece was missing. (You can see the hole under the American flag.) I had no idea. When I had no more loose pieces, I hastily assumed I was done. Since then, given my episodic bouts of OCD, I’m going crazy looking for the missing piece. I often think I resemble the “Monk” character from the TV show, when I’m not more like the very different Larry David character.
Given the effort involved, I fully intend to frame it. After some looking on Amazon, I discovered there are all manner of accessories for the dedicated jigsaw puzzle enthusiast. Special trays and tables for holding the puzzle under construction. Glue to bind the finished puzzle into one single sheet. I need to transfer it to a frame to free up the kitchen table. I couldn’t bear to take it apart, but neither I can I bear to leave it with a missing piece.
Think along the lines of the Navajo weavers, who deliberately weave small imperfections into their rugs, because perfection belongs only to the divine.
Funny bit of personal commentary!