Op

John got me two Vasarely paperweights for Christmas, and I spend too much time watching them. Occasionally, I take one in each hand and fly them through the air as I zoom around the room. There’s no way to stop them, even when they’re sitting on the worktable in front of me. They’re not alive, I know, but the little glass domes can hardly contain the insistence of the colors and patterns, the blur and the sharpness, the real and the impossible.

(Prints of some images are available here. Use code WORDPRESS10 for 10% off your purchase.)

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