* the edge (not him, the actual edge) (7/17/2005) I think of the underlying form as something I can make from legos or from micronauts. Legos are each somewhat generic. Most legos (before the Technics line) are one color, a box with dimensions that are some multiple of the a single unit distance, and will fit with absolutely any other lego. Exceptions to this generalization are rare. Micronauts are each highly specialized. One might be the shiny metal head of a giant robot. Another might be the seat to a tiny translucent motorcycle. Although there is a textual "right way" to assemble individual micronaut pieces together into the giant robot, tiny translucent motorcycle, or what-have-you, each of the parts can be connected to almost any other part. So you might put the giant robot head on the front of the tiny translucent motorcycle, just to be wierd. Or you might use the seat from the tiny translucent motorcycle and the torso of the giant robot to make some strange space-ship. When I create (dinner, sound art, computer programs, conversation, whatever), it seems to be the assembly of stuff that matches one of these two patterns. The desired results tend to dictate which medium you choose. If, inspired by eccentric mathematicians, you want to build a self-enclosed 3D hedge maze for a ball bearing, you should choose legos. If you want to build a space ship that does not look like low-resolution 2D space ship with nubs, you should choose micronauts. The choice is not always so simple. What if you want to make a sculpture to get some grief out of your system? What if you want to make an abstract, whimsical model of the plumbing in your house? A cat toy? A desk ornament? Ideal computer programming environments give you a wide selection of micronaut parts to choose from, and a full compliment of legos. You get a means to mix legos and micronauts freely, and the ability to make new micronaut parts from legos. We can often see micronaut or lego style constructions if we can peer into the underlying form. Micronaut form gives us a hard edge to push off from. It's an arm. We either have to treat it like an arm, an arm out of place, or attach it so brilliantly to the jet-engine that it not only no longer looks like an arm, but that it is not an arm. Lego form gives us softer edges. We make up the rules ourselves. We must work to make boxes look like arms! I feel as though I'm reaching a point where form no longer matters, and I can simply create without considering the edges. The problem is, as it has always been, that I'm not communicating successfully to anyone but myself.