The erasure is an aggressive act of deletion: erasing knowledge, preventing access to information, substituting one image for another, reinterpreting/misinterpreting data or flat our refusing it. This aggressive act can also reveal the form of the book, the construction of narrative, or a lack of narrative. The laborious act of removal and revelation is the process of questioning the story (intangible ideas) and the object (tactile ideas). The story and object are in relationship, exchanging the roles of content and form. The book is a series of books, specifically, travel books from the 1970s and 1980s. They are harmless, superficial, cheap presentations of complex social dynamics and landscapes. The tourist books present a fantasy of sandy white beaches, ruins of antiquity, rolling green hills, mountain passes covered in snow, Mexicans dancing in the street, Greeks working fishing nets or busty German women delivering you a giant glass of frosty beer.  The erasure pushes back against these narratives questioning their authenticity and in the wake revealing a poem.  


The poem is about the Sky

We look, bow and kneel to the Sky to give thanks, ask for forgiveness, place our dreams. The sky is the source of our myths, where our mystical beings originate and dwell. The sky is a place of mobility and free movement. Real movement, as in the case of migratory birds or imagined movement like the dreams of humans before the Wright Brothers or myself as a poor child dreaming of fleeing home. The sky is a dynamic and complex ecology for projecting individual dreams and collective myths. 

Erasing the people, cityscapes and rural landscapes is a gesture towards zero. Zero is a restarting point for considering/reconsidering what is happening. From zero we can plot along the axis forwards and backwards, positive (forward) or negative (backward). There is in this reading a sense of time, the book before the erasure and the resulting object afterwards.

The world isn’t what we thought, the best founded conceptions apply only to our daily round, out there they are false. False our old conceptions of space, false the time we’ve fabricated. Light is propagated in a straight line, and the mass of bodies is a kind of rubber band.
– Einstein