Thinking about how my current endeavors are far removed, (by a good hundred miles even) from that area called 'art', I realised that the person at the printer's was asking me how many A6 were needed and I replied 100. We usually wish the other person to reach 100 years of age on his birthday don't we? Well, we do 'round here. By the soothing, repetitive sound of the printing machine, I also thought of the nature of the flyer. How it is a worthless medium that can be vastly reproduced to spread information, that most of the times reaches people that don't really care about that particular information at all. It is also quite the burden to take off your car's windshield if you live in a town with very high humidity.
Then, I thought of people (including myself), who tend to save useless bits and pieces, otherwise known as 'stuff' as memoirs or perhaps and in some cases, trophies. For some reason a piece of paper can magically transform into something of high value because it bears a mark that raises its significance. Say, for example, if that piece of paper is the only one in existence. Or, aforementioned paper is in existence along with its multiples but those multiples are of a limited number, such as two; or five; or one hundred. Or some ambiguous number that usually, when calculated results in the coverage of expenditures suffered by publisher.
By then, I had already driven home, took my trusty ol' stamp from one of my boxes of memoirs and branded 47 of 100, A6 flyers. I then signed each one with it's distinctive number: 1/47, 2/47 etc. Having mixed the signed flyers with the unsigned ones in a smooth and graphic movement that brought to mind an experienced card dealer, I picked all flyers from the floor, arranged them in a stack, having of course looked around making sure no one had seen this, even though I was alone in the room.
The flyers were all given to the owner who will distribute them unbeknownst of their significant (to myself) alteration. Below is a photograph:
And further down is a photograph I would describe as homoerotic:
Then, I thought of people (including myself), who tend to save useless bits and pieces, otherwise known as 'stuff' as memoirs or perhaps and in some cases, trophies. For some reason a piece of paper can magically transform into something of high value because it bears a mark that raises its significance. Say, for example, if that piece of paper is the only one in existence. Or, aforementioned paper is in existence along with its multiples but those multiples are of a limited number, such as two; or five; or one hundred. Or some ambiguous number that usually, when calculated results in the coverage of expenditures suffered by publisher.
By then, I had already driven home, took my trusty ol' stamp from one of my boxes of memoirs and branded 47 of 100, A6 flyers. I then signed each one with it's distinctive number: 1/47, 2/47 etc. Having mixed the signed flyers with the unsigned ones in a smooth and graphic movement that brought to mind an experienced card dealer, I picked all flyers from the floor, arranged them in a stack, having of course looked around making sure no one had seen this, even though I was alone in the room.
The flyers were all given to the owner who will distribute them unbeknownst of their significant (to myself) alteration. Below is a photograph:
And further down is a photograph I would describe as homoerotic:
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[16:28:58] mparmpedas: oreos filtate
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