To write the word is to not write in the space where the most important part of nothing occurs.
In the Middle Ages there were no spaces. No one read silently. Everything written had to be
read aloud to be understood. Some say a deeper consciousness came
with the insertion of
the space,
and deep solitary reading
was born.
“The human mind became not only literate but literary.”1
Ask the painter with his plain canvas about his process. How he starts with nothing then adds something, but there must always be nothing between any further something he might add.
Or more succinctly,
something nothing something nothing.
The integrity of the picture plane remains intact. Its two-dimensional shape unbounded while a gradient shadow belies the eye to read a third dimension. Not to mention impasto, which can actually cast a shadow across something and nothing in the right light. The paint applied thickly with a palette knife.
Please pause here and reflect.
There is more we do not know than what we think we know about the brain. How do the sense organs expand to understand the environmental stimulus formerly known as red? How does the taste of a cookie dipped in lime blossom tea recall seven volumes of a life? Does Karl Pibram’s holographic model still apply where every part contains a memory of the whole between the spaces?
Insert a synapse and neurotransmitter to start the memory retrieval process.
Consult an expert on the matter.
If you’re hungry have a cookie
before you shift from page to screen, and hope we do not lose the neural circuits that allow
the rich interpretive read and thus are forced to reinvent
the cereal box decoder ring.
1. Nicholas Carr, AS TECHNOLOGY ADVANCES, DEEP READING SUFFERS, SFGATE.COM SUNDAY, JUNE 20, 2010