Not Delicate 11

A black tangle fills the middle of the paper. At the top it reaches the edge and is cut off. The tangle is made of wide brushstrokes. They curve and cross in different directions, interlacing like a braid. Inside each stroke, fine lines remain where dry bristles scraped through. At the lower left, a thin line winds around itself again and again. At the edges, the black loosens into gray. Pale gray lies across the ground in several layers.

I tie the brush to my arm with a bandage. When my arm trembles, the brush trembles. It passes over the same place again and again. The more the strokes pile up, the darker the tangle becomes.

An image held in undetermined movement becomes the grammar of another image. Drawing an image is a way of holding movement.