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My discovery of the Typewriter

A lot of people ask me if a have a favorite letter or typewriter? And to my amazement I actually do! You’ll see in a lot of my earlier work they are heavily embedded with quotation marks as I love the way they build up letting you see the format of a generic written piece. I still use them in the majority of my pieces but the letter or key I use depends on the piece I’m drawing. If you look closely at my pieces you will start to the individual marks all layered on top of each other to create the final image. I mainly use my Imperial 90 typewriter, the few keys I frequently use as completely polished compared to the rest of the keys.  I’m very passionate about my artwork and given that my work is made on a typewriter gives it that extra special quirk.

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Why not create a new nature for the typewriter other than the original purpose to what it was primarily created for? The language is translated into a body of text that create patterns and grids formed by typing the punctuation marks. The typewriters clunky mechanics is what makes them so unique and inspiring within the art world today, a timeless classic referred to countless times throughout art history. There are no limitations to drawing in my opinion, and it is with this notion of the expanded field, literally and rhetorically that I continue exploring the drawn mark.

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Click click tap clatter the keys of the typewriter. My fingers grow numb with the feeling of the dense, harsh keys resisting my every move. The typewriter fights back as I force the barrel to twist and turn, the blisters seem remote as the friction burns through my palms. The thud of the carriage elegantly glides back and forth as the keys scream with exasperation. It seems never ending but I loose myself when immersed in working on a new piece.  The creaking of the ribbon winding round and round the spool, the fragments of dust clogging the revolving hooks all add to the 'hands on' charm to this magnificent machines. Overwhelmed by the pressures of finding the right words I begin hitting the keys at random. The bashing of the metal leavers as they rip into the paper. The white black page begins to fill with a beautiful time filled with uneven ink splodges.

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