… you can write flowery rubbish …
In an era of infinite screens, the humble pencil feels revolutionarily (sic) direct: It does exactly what it does, when it does it, right in front of you. Pencils eschew digital jujitsu. They are pure analog, absolute presence. They help to rescue us from oblivion. Think of how many of our finest motions disappear, untracked — how many eye blinks and toe twitches and secret glances vanish into nothing. And yet when you hold a pencil, your quietest little hand-dances are mapped exactly, from the loops and slashes to the final dot at the very end of a sentence.
and with a camera you can make the most amazing images. If you’ve ever used either do yourself a favour and have a look at the images of a pencil factory made by Christopher Payne (no doubt using digital jujitsu). The words are by John McPhee … they’re optional.
Just click <HERE>.
You can chew a pencil but can a pencil eschew anything at all? Is this the first recorded instance of anthropomorphism concerning pencils? What did the pencil think about that?