Several sheets of pink polystyrene foam dragged home from a roadside skip and a mini hacksaw.
I remember that as the blade carved the shapes of each finger, seemingly without much guidance from me, I could somehow feel the shape of my own fingers very distinctly.
Now the giant pink hand perches on our fridge. It doesn’t seem to “say” very much, but I like it as an object and as reminder of the state of “flow” which created it.
