Matt is welcome to destroy my paper structure.

Homeostasis is the word I should have used instead of osmosis. Homeostasis is the process of maintaining a balance of conditions that the body most needs such as correct salt balance, hormonal flow etc. These balance mechanisms depend on conditions in the entire living system, some of them remote from the system being considered. 

My folded paper form contains many enclosed shapes, created by bending and creasing the paper strip. They are held in stasis, in a utopian sense, by the opposing tensions and compressions in the paper. If one system is disturbed, all are slightly affected. In a sense, the highs and lows of disturbance bring about an equilibrium.

         With positive feedback, even if Matt put his big toe in the work or set fire to parts of it, disturbance is part of the dynamic of the system and balanced by anti-disturbance forces, somewhere. He could be as pioneering and boundary-defying as he wishes; his innovations and rejections are welcome and keep the whole functioning in perpetuity. This would not be like Heaven where everybody is good, all above average, and there is no variety, assuming that is actually a heaven.

How could an element of the system become destructive rather than innovative, such as a terrorist, a culture destroyer, a virus? Maybe built in obsolescence such as aging of the system shown by minute decreases in ability to adapt to change might cause it. Sludge in the system, pressure build-up, complacency or evolving discontent might bring  might slowly grow and overwhelm a system.

Does a utopian system need to die? If it is functioning in a harmonious balance, even if some parts are in great distress, opposing forces would counteract each other, and seen from the outside, and over time, even if the internal tension might be huge and unpleasant to be around, or in, balance would be maintained. To a being taking part in this dynamic, it would seem cruel and unbalanced, not utopian. A system would need to find an equilibrium of differences, change approaches, or recycle, rather than be extinguished.

It seems that we know how to achieve a a more positive state, but cannot simply take a short cut to get there. We must go through a process of war, dislocation, death, and resource re-allocation followed by peace, instead. Why can we not take a short-cut to peace?

How can a paper tape structure act as more than a metaphor? How could it actually become a real system that slowly loses its stability because of inherent qualities?

Soak the paper in linseed oil and allow it to combust if conditions are right i.e. too little air. Turn it into smoke.

Place the structure outside in the rain and let it turn to mush, or make it out of plastic and allow the ultra-violet light to decompose it. Let fungus recycle it.

Shake catnip powder on it and watch my cat tear it up. She will make a whole new structure.

Forget about it, ignore it, do nothing. Collect the dust, be crawled on by insects, dry up and get thrown out. It will show up somewhere in the garbage chain.

Turn Matt loose on it. Which is not to suggest he would be destructive, but that he could if he felt like it. I don't want to assume he has destructive impulses. He might also look after it very carefully, or re-purpose it. 

Thinking about the pen cast:

What makes a practice? 

There are things I like to do such as printmaking, and vaguely I could call myself a printmaker, but I also want to make lots of other things. I do not have a practice that is one way of making. In fact, I am not sure what art is as it refers to what I do. I have never made a piece of art that mattered to me that had a defined goal. Always, there has been experimenting with removal, re-surfacing, re-defining and eventually a record of a process emerges. Learning has occurred, if not an end result that is a mighty thing that might be an artwork. 

I have made lots of images that have been sold, and these have had a pre-determined purpose e,g, they sell and have had to be recognizable and user friendly. I am very happy that other people are made happy by them, but I do not regard this work as finding a solution, or expanding a territory.

What is thought of as art has a specialness about it. What is the specialness? I have things that I feel strongly enough about to spend days and months working on. I think about them, consider their logic, find ways to represent them, but cannot call myself xyz kind of an artist. In some ways, finding the best way to explain something to the kids I teach, which means picking words, associations and images to elicit a response is an art form. The line between learning and teaching gets very porous.