Shape

5 Answer Number One—What Do You See Now?
and fill in the gap between them—connecting either end of one line with either end of
the other—I’m left with a single line again
not three. If I do this every way I can—there are four distinct possibilities that I can
show schematically like this
—and then shuffle the results, I can’t tell them apart by what I’ve done. They’re all exactly
the same. And once lines fuse, I can divide them as I please to see whatever there
is. The line I have now may break in half
or anywhere many times, whether the pieces were originally drawn or not.
Fusing lines and dividing them are the flip sides of embedding. The ambiguity
is inevitable, but this isn’t a problem. I’ve learned to go on from what I’ve done without
hesitating every time I see something new. I never have any doubts. I trust my
eyes. In fact, changes can be so rapid and smooth that I don’t notice them. Then if I
want to check what’s happening, I have to stop what I’m doing in midcourse. I have
to remember everything that’s transpired. But I may forget, with no one to remind
me. It’s lucky—what’s lost in my head can’t bother me. Memory just gets in the way,
limiting the things I’m able to see here and now. That’s how it is with definition and
circumstance—getting it right or taking a chance on something new. The one forecloses
the other, offering the same old things in return. Whatever I see is new, even if
I’ve seen it before. I guess shapes aren’t for the constructionist. Adherence to original
intent or prior use is senseless. And it’s easy to see why.
There’s no obvious change when you look at the shape in my original drawing
not knowing what I’ve done. What is there to notice? Nothing keeps you from seeing
anything you want to see or doing as you like independent of anything that’s happened
before. We can both use the drawing profitably without saying what parts
it has. We don’t need to agree on what we see. You never have to ask me how the