There is a children’s book called Harold And His Purple Crayon that tells the story of a kid named Harold who takes a purple crayon with him everywhere he goes, drawing lines that tell stories. The lines allow him to travel from place to place solely through the power of his Crayola trail. This backdrop looks like what would happen if there were a million Harolds, all with different crayons, going out on different adventures. It is a work of art because of its complexity; the way the lines intertwine, form shapes, form angles, twist around one another, clash with each other and seem to never end. There is a story behind each colored line. Where did it come from? Where is it headed? What’s around the next bend? Who or what is guiding it? At some point, it seems that most of the stories end up colliding with one another. Stories weave in and out of other stories and sometimes crash head on with each other. Maybe there are similar destinations and conclusions for some of them, while others will end up in completely opposite ends of the canvas. It is pieces like these that allow the observer to fill in the blanks. It is up to you to decide why the blue lines stretch both upward and to the right, and why the white lines seem so spaced out. If you were Harold, where would you take your colored crayon and what story would it tell?

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