“A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.” –John Steinbeck
“The journey not the arrival matters.” –T.S. Eliot
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” -Martin Buber
No, I'm not travelling, not just now. But I am lazily using travel as a metaphor for today's photo, that is travel to finished "art". My final products do not reflect my blue prints--they are tiny accidents. Lately, I've been admiring the tools more than the products they tooled, or were intended to tool. I admire them so much that I neglect their hygiene. I can't just scrub away the dirty, serendipitous brilliance. And, who says they aren't the real canvas? The best part. If they are the canvas and their functions and features (rolling/stroking, bundled horsehair/rubber cylinder-ness) created the composition, they are the art and the artist. Yummy.
And so in metaphorical response to John, T.S., and Martin, respectively: I do not control it--roll on, I will not scrub you clean; The roller is the journey and the roller is awesome; I am unaware, love secrets, and could wish for nothing more than to be artfully deceived.
Today's Art[ist]: the magnificent rubber roller.
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