If blancmange were a drawing, it would use the finest point of silver that would reflect white sunlight to draw on bone-white boards. Standing in the central axis of the space, I would carefully trace a line across the firmament, using my arm at full extension as a compass, capturing the arc of space within reach, extended by the rod of silver. The point would mark the bone, like a wound, and gather up space. Continuing the circle, I would reach deep into the earth, encompassing the terra-firma and all its things, until the lines meet at the horizon. Using the stylus, I would trace the horizon, to remember the thin space I inhabit and stop to partake in that wonder. Once finished, I will serve the blancmange to my friends as dinner and discuss the building we will build over friendly conversation, exchanging experiences, ideas and dreams. The blancmange will capture the stains of this delight: wine, food, laughter, ideas and the atmosphere of the evening. In this collaborative space I will draw the building for dessert.

Again, using the finest point of silver that would reflect the white candlelight to draw on the same bone-white boards. Standing in the central axis of the space, I would carefully trace a line across the firmament, using my arm at full extension as a compass, capturing the arc of space within reach, extended by the rod of silver. The point would mark the bone, like a wound, and gather up space. Continuing the circle, I would reach deep into the earth, encompassing the terra-firma and all its things, until the lines met at the horizon. Using the stylus, I would trace the horizon, to remember the thin space I inhabit and stop to partake in that wonder. Once finished, I will serve the building to my friends as dessert and discuss the blancmange we will make over friendly conversation, exchanging experiences, ideas and dreams. Gathering up the cosmos and the world I feed the world with things I make and it in turn makes me.