Untitled
A hand pressing into the ether, leaving an impression on something that should not be able to hold one. The field it pushes against came from the static on an old television — the snow you got between channels, which was never nothing: it was the set picking up radiation with no signal to organize it.
So the hand is touching the carrier itself rather than any picture on it, and the ether gives — it dents, the way a screen would if the noise behind it had substance. The mark-making is closer to pointillism than to drawing: there is no line anywhere in it. The whole image is small separate marks, thousands of them, each one a point of light or its absence, which is exactly how the static it came from was made — and how a screen builds any picture at all.
I left it untitled because naming it would have handed the viewer a reading before they arrived at one. The drawing's whole job is to be the thing making contact rather than the thing described.
Series: Exceptionalism