Look what I discovered today among heaps of manipulative information. I wonder if this image created itself at random. It has got an accidental beauty to it. This kind of imagery cannot be conceived of. It’s like a visual rustle, a murmur of paper, felt pen and prejudice. In any case, while I refuse all responsibility for this piece of found art, I’ll accept suggestions for the title.
There is just something special about making art, making anything, in the real world, without the help of digital tools: the roughness of the paper, the smell of the glue, the ruse required to move the pieces into their proper position, the irreversibility of it all, the thought “what if?” that has to be preserved for another attempt at mastering things, physical things connected with a myriad of other physical things, just as digital things are connected with one another, but not across the invisible divide: pixel or permanent, but never both.