Moby

Melville’s remains languish in the most beautiful part of the Bronx: Woodlawn.
His work lives on because while, “the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago,” technology on land has changed.  From a dead author’s existential fantasy, to my mind, to Adobe Illustrator, to the laser cutter:  From thought, to ink (many times), to thought, to digital files, to an object milled from plastic, to thoughts in a little boy’s mind: in this manner technology erases boundaries of space and time.

Behold the pale monster made for my nephew’s fourth birthday:
from hand to illustrator to laser to table top

Moby the mobile