
Last week was all sketches of knotted string, which were largely boring, and so steadily edged their way into being compositionally surreal. I wasn’t going to post this week, but this lil guy kept striking me with how poignant he was, trapped and bound on a desolate plain. I’m sure this means nothing. Carry on.
See also:
A string walks into a bar. The bartender says, “Hey, we don’t serve strings in here!” So he goes back out, loops his neck into itself, musses up his hair and goes back in. The bartender says, “Hey, aren’t you that string I just kicked out of here?” The string says, “No, I’m a frayed knot!”
[old joke; source of this version]











