I return to the same shapes, the same
gestures, the same colours.
My hand knows the movement. It rediscovers its
direction, its range, its pressure.
I start again.
The gesture resembles the previous one.
I look.
The line has shifted. The pressure has changed. The
movement has become tighter. The paper has resisted in a different way.
I start again.
The same gesture never produces the same drawing.
The differences appear in minute variations: a tilt, a density, a gap. Through repeated attempts, these variations shift the whole.
I did not decide on them. They appear in what I thought I was reproducing.
The previous gesture passed through my hand. The
next bears its trace.
So I start again.
I stay as close as possible to the same movement. It
returns recognisable, yet never identical.
I do not repeat; I explore more deeply.
An isolated gesture reveals a form.
Its repetition reveals the variations.
I seek the same.
I encounter the difference.
