eternal return

2013: year of the Snake

The snake biting its tail: the sign of eternal return, the cycles of the world repeating themselves. Time keeps passing and yet there is still more of it -- even scientists don't agree on the nature of time. (The topic "time" is the subject of this year's "Flame Challenge," and I look forward to the results.)

Compiled into this year's card, eleven quotes from ten philosophers on the nature of time : Aristotle, Blaise Pascal, César Aira, Saint Augustine, Henry David Thoreau, Thich Nhat Hanh, Albert Einstein, André Breton, William Shakespeare, and T.S. Eliot. Held together in the shape of a sphere, made of interconnected circles, continuing the theme of eternity.

The pattern for the paper bauble was discovered through the Guardian; the text was sourced using a vast array of leads from articles on the nature of time (researched for the ongoing calendar-project) with assistance from Google. Circles of text were laid out in InDesign, printed onto linen-weave resume-stock paper, and then the work of editioning began.

First the pages were printed then folded: each circle in half, and the half-way point between the circles, so that they would align when glued together. (Folding happens before oiling, since oiled papers crack when folded.)

Oiling provided durability and shine and a bit of translucence, and test pieces were treated with boiled linseed oil, purified linseed oil, tung oil, and (yes) WD-40. 

 

 

I had wanted to stitch the edges of the pages together, but my gluing skills are vastly superior to my stitching skills (as evidenced by a sample of each).

  

Then the gluing. Glue, fold, weight, glue, fold, weight, trim, glue, insert string, fold, weight, open, trim, place in wrapper, place in envelope.

 

Forecasts for the year ahead aren't auspicious. Bunker down and be well.

bogged in bureaucracy

Anyway, if this kid had been able to convince his mother to make the trip to the post office, none of this would have happened. But there he is, slouched right up at the counter, mumbling, and the box is held together more with packing tape and twine than with cardboard. There don't seem to be any holes punched in it for ventilation, but there's the line preventing me from really getting a clear look at the situation. The clerk has just finished the hazardous, perishable, liquid, or fragile prelude to the up-sell for confirmation, insurance, next day delivery when the first of the noises happens. It is a squeal, a cross between a piglet in unhappy circumstances and a car that needs new brakes, not wholly mechanical nor wholly biological in tone. Several people glance around towards the fire alarms, a man checks his phone, and the rest of us either assume tinnitus or pretend nothing happened.

reading
Angelmaker / by Nick Harkaway

weather
drizzle and drizzle to welcome the cruelest month