the Remington & the Artisan

To write or not to write. That is not a question. At least not any more with my new 1929 Remington typewriter. Thanks to Elisa the old pleasures of techno-compositions and computer art are falling behind the pushing pulses of artisan work. Kiarostami, the Persian director, when talking about his movie 'Through the Olive Trees' (Zire Darakhtan Zeyton) affirms that "technology is a lie". And he is probably right; whenever means and ends are confounded, lies sprout.

This blog is already suffering the consequences of my falling for a machine that does not need no plug or battery, a delight I had almost forgotten. In fact, to typewrite on an old machine is like forcing oneself to compose on a different language, with a different rhythm and a distinctive thought flow. Something that I am enjoying so far as is marked by my latest silences on the web.

Sorry as I am for having abandoned this land of coincidental barbarians, I am more than happy with the intense work the Remington is pushing me into. But I am here no matter what; passion seems to have opened its doors to love, without chains or infatuation. And so, yes, this blog will survive the comeback of the artisan. As I must have said somewhere, that is not a question.

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photos by chema nieto