An essay about paper

Take a leaf. A blank sheet. Just one. A simple one. And the immensity it suggests.

The paper is more a leaf. It definitely inspires us. This is the Egyptian papyrus, the invention of movable metallic characters Johannes Gutenberg, determining in the diffusion of texts and knowledge and considered a major event of the Renaissance, the sound of a Remington hitting the ribbon of ink on the paper, the traditional art of Asian calligraphy, the beauty of the Arabian writing, the irregularity of the pencil on its surface, the traces of the brush, the brilliance of the ink and its smell. The lines drawing a silhouette, a body, building the roof of a house, the roads of an upcoming project, writing the love letters of a teenager or a queen, the texts of a script, a dialogue of characters, the movement of a choreography, the notes on a sheet music. A paper is the story of humanity, culture, arts and letters, romance, theater, singing, the discovery of the world, a history of world maps, blueprints of Frank Lloyd Wright, the brilliant sketches of Leonard da Vinci, cut papers of Henri Matisse, drawings of Pablo Picasso, the heavy brush of Fabienne Verdier, the photographies of Edward Steichen and his periodical Camera Work, the quietness of a library like in Il nome della rosa of Umberto Eco, the newspapers and the magazines, the art direction of Grace Coddington, the graphic approach of Alexey Brodovitch, the movie posters of Saul Bass, the comic books of Moebius, the mangas of Katsuhiro Otomo, edition of artbooks, the magnificent ones of Jungjin Lee, Viviane Sassen or Rinko Kawauchi, the limited prints. These are made with papers. These are not all. This is paper. This is all.

It’s the one that leads us to leave. To go to a story, the wildest fantasies. It is not completely white. There is the text that we have in mind somewhere on it. A blank page is a window that we open on ourselves. Fly to oneself. Dream. Dreaming. Dreamed. A piece of paper is a beginning, a fresh start, a virgin landscape that invite us to cross it, to walk towards it. A wave waiting to be surfed. A descent field waiting to be snowboarded.
Somewhere where we are not. Someone we are.

Grammatical is about drawing like writing. Grammatical is about printing like the pleasure of shooting a good picture. It is about the action of slipping an idea on paper. As best as we can.

We are paper riders.

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