If you call this kind of thing an “altered book”
and if you can work in the word “upcycling”—
I mean, if you can do that with a straight face—
you could probably teach this as a workshop,
some kind of new age spirituality.
“Sandinyoureye can help you realise images that only existed in your imagination with magical sand sculptures and ice sculptures, and with gigantic sand drawings. Use our unique ephemeral art forms for creative communication in promotion and branding, or for the simple pursuit of entertainment and art.
“Have a shovel full of fun yourself by taking a tool in hand with our sand sculpture workshops, sand drawing workshops and team building activities; we shouldn't be the only ones who get to have all the fun!”
Jamie Wardley
Sandinyoureye
Sand and Ice Sculptures, UK
She looked at me, and then asked, “What are you doing?”
I looked up and tried to make an innocent face.
“I’m plotting,” I said, trying to keep my eyes wide.
She giggled. “I get it,” she said, shaking her head.
“Plotting is what writers do. And supervillains.
So I’m supposed to think you’re writing a story
but then because you’re making that weird-looking face
I’m supposed to think you’re hatching some evil scheme.”
“Isn’t all of this much more romantic,” I asked,
“when it’s a mystery? Am I writing something,
or am I designing a robot made of toys
that will turn anyone or anything I choose
into sand the wind can wear down and blow away?”
“‘All of this’?” she asked. “You mean you and a clipboard?”
She laughed, then said, “It’s hard to believe they don’t put
alcohol in that Red Bull you’re always drinking.”
I let my eyes narrow. “I’m going to include
you in what I’m plotting right now,” I said to her.
“You do that,” she said, still laughing. And then she left.
I returned to my plotting. It was about her.
I looked up and tried to make an innocent face.
“I’m plotting,” I said, trying to keep my eyes wide.
She giggled. “I get it,” she said, shaking her head.
“Plotting is what writers do. And supervillains.
So I’m supposed to think you’re writing a story
but then because you’re making that weird-looking face
I’m supposed to think you’re hatching some evil scheme.”
“Isn’t all of this much more romantic,” I asked,
“when it’s a mystery? Am I writing something,
or am I designing a robot made of toys
that will turn anyone or anything I choose
into sand the wind can wear down and blow away?”
“‘All of this’?” she asked. “You mean you and a clipboard?”
She laughed, then said, “It’s hard to believe they don’t put
alcohol in that Red Bull you’re always drinking.”
I let my eyes narrow. “I’m going to include
you in what I’m plotting right now,” I said to her.
“You do that,” she said, still laughing. And then she left.
I returned to my plotting. It was about her.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Announcing LEGO MINDSTORMS EV3
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Me As A Mad Scientist In Sand
Mindstorms And Music And One Smart Brick
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