It’s sometimes a little conflicting to me that I love nature and trees, and I paint on paper.
(Paper comes from chopped down trees. But you knew that, right?)
Well, I actually have a thing for paper, too, like a lot of artists. Its texture, the grain, the way pigment rests on it or becomes absorbed into it… I’ll stop there before this turns into a porn novel.
Paper has always carried my work in some way. And it just so happens that I work at a print center for my day job. That’s where I print a lot of stuff on paper. It’s also where a lot of paper get wasted. A lot. Of paper.
Last weekend there, I worked on a job that had me print 500 packets that consisted of a total of 28,000 sheets of paper. It was for a big conference for a company. With today’s technology, why they couldn’t do this digitally (like email, website, or hand out a PDF on a flash drive), I have no clue. This kind of thing happens at a lot of places.
I’m just going to assume that as you read this, those 500 people have either recycled the paper. Or hung it up on their wall and are admiring its texture, the grain, the toner glistening in the light…