Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Weaving and Unweaving the Tale

1000 banana trees
Imagine a mountain range "read" as a soundwave.
Time as a physical wave, the physical wave as sound, as music.
The wave on the ear, the brushstroke on stone.
Where water and brush touch stone, a spot without form. Where the brush moves, trailing water, a formless spot becomes the history of the evolving present, shapes the meaning of the brush, dictates new direction, evaporates, dissappears.
Brush as dancer, calligraphy as dance.
Gil Johnson

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