Artists speak of media, as though paint or wood or steel are vehicles, middlemen in the cycle of making art that are eventually subordinated, or overtaken by other, more important aesthetic qualities. What if the medium is the message, italicizing, laying bare the wooden-ness of wood, the old glow of hand-worn, foot-worn surfaces, the chalkiness of plaster, making their sensuality as essential to a work of art or meditation as the musky tone of an oboe is to an oboe concerto.
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