Ten artists.
Multiple directions.
Prints made from images people already know. Faces, mostly. Get close and the face breaks into dots, gaps and separate colours. That’s what’s actually on the paper.
A record of drift, storage, imitation, and the remains of attention.
A novel in progress.
By the time we began arguing about the washing, the object had already been observed by three telescopes, disputed by a fourth and assigned a name that would survive the discovery of several inconvenient facts about it. I can no longer remember which observatory refused to confirm it. I remember the washing specifically because I was the one who objected to it, and because my objection was eventually incorporated into the explanatory material in a form that made it sound as though I had raised an interesting question and everyone else had resolved it.
There were no clothes in the original observations. I should establish that, since in the pictures now circulating there are three, a shirt and two smaller pieces, all pale, strung between buildings above a harbour which may or may not have been a harbour. Nor were there buildings in the original observations, strictly speaking.