we are legion (+ value)

The oxidizing walnuts I left out in open buckets are overtaken by an aqua-colored powdery mold. While moving them outside and trying not to inhale, I remembered the phrase, "We are legion." In the Christian Bible (the books of Mark and Luke, specifically) Jesus encounters a man possessed by demons. Jesus speaks to the demons, because he is Jesus and compassionate, and asks them to identify themselves. "We are Legion. We are many," the demons say. Jesus, again compassionate even to demons, does not destroy the demons, but transfers them to a herd of pigs. The pigs throw themselves into the sea.

Mold spores are many on the walnuts, and I lack the messianic compassion to cast them elsewhere. I imagine the thousands of spores sailing into my lungs, beating up my aveoli,and singing "We are legion." This is to say that dealing with several pounds of moldy walnuts was frustrating and possibly toxic. Is this why my lymph nodes are swollen? Bah. I thought this experience was going to be all zen and creative.



I drew a bit with the ink as it stands now. The color is weaker than I'd hoped, which is a little disappointing. I'll continue to reduce the liquid. An added bonus: the simmering dye bath reeks of weird burning. Samantha described the smell as "rotten barbeque". Between the mold (= demons), the smell, and the sallow brown color the shine is wearing off this project. And that's a good thing, because it prompted this line of questioning.

Am I doing this so you can compete in the ink market? So I can bottle and market my product? Why am I doing this? It stinks, literally. And it's anachronistically slow and weird. I think I'm doing this because I wanted to add value with my hand labor. Through the force of my labor and elbow grease, I will process raw material into more valuable product. That idea is a throw-back, but it's not entirely nostalgic. It's part of how our markets work: value-added products. Corn is more valuable as cereal than it is as unprocessed corn. These walnuts are now walnuts + value: their product can make marks or stain things. I like to think I am now Katie + value: a degree more patient and wiser about dealing with things that rot.

Does labor equal value? That's traditionally why we value labor, right? It increases the worth of the thing labored upon. I claim to value certain labor for its meditative qualities, but judge the success of this project by the quantitative (and olfactory) qualities of the product. Ya basta.