Text twitches and is wound. Text is hallucinatory by design to convey images without anything but letterforms. Text is held like traffic flows by not stop signs but commas and semicolons and all the rest. Text is mortal and mutates. It is time to look not just into creative experiments and new methodologies within textual works but text itself. Something interesting can happen if interaction happens within the body of the letters themselves.
Text in its nature and very architecture is anxious, it is neurotic. It is only held in a seemingly apparent stasis. A work with text is never truly finished but ceased. The paragraph is a shivering mass of bent lines as is a single sentence. The systematic function of text is to infer a voice in a code of bent lines and spaces between. The sculptural nature of the lines of letters is akin to an exhibition of forms encoded with implied speech and thought. It also is like the ground awaiting crac...