From paper to cotton

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Ι remember my older sister drawing since I was very young. I would sneak into her room, watching her filling her books and notebooks with all kind of sketches, faces, lines… One of the things I remember was that every summer we would clean our rooms and throw away the things we didn’t need. My sister would carefully check all the papers and books. If there was any sort of sketch on any book or notebooks she would either erase it or carefully tear it and keep it. 

Back then I thought it was kind of strange. Today I think that every drawing was a “deposit”, a thought that she would choose to either keep or erase but not just throw it away. Every drawing had a substance, like a real character. Now the drawings don’t need to be hidden or kept, they can go out, drink coffee, go to the theatre, just like my sisters likes to see them. It’s like a sketch museum which moves around all day long.
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