Personally, I believe that the simple fact of having at our disposal a three-dimensional object rigid enough to maintain a structure, yet flexible enough to allow us to transform it within space, makes cardistry a discipline with a much broader field of exploration than it might initially seem. In my case, I find in it an almost primal representation of the way I solve problems. Constructing a move is, to some extent, similar to developing a design exercise: there is a series of elements, relationships, and constraints that must be organized until a coherent solution is found. My background as a graphic designer probably influences this perception, as it leads me to approach creation through decisions that do not necessarily follow a linear path, but instead emerge from associations, experimentation, connections, and simultaneous possibilities—something close to rhizomatic thinking. imagine that more than one cardist will identify with this way of constructing moves. It would be interesting to explore what other models of thought are involved in each person's creative process and how they influence the final result. Even so, regardless of the method, there seems to be a constant correlation between certain factors: development, reasoning, application, evaluation, flexibility, analysis, and decision-making. In a sense, creating simply consists of connecting points within a whole. But then a question arises that I find far more interesting: which points do we choose to connect, and why? Perhaps this is where an important part of what we understand as style can be found. Before us lies a universe of possibilities, yet we do not establish every possible connection; we select only some of them. We decide which elements to relate, which to discard, which to repeat, and which to transform. We seek to make these decisions coexist in a certain harmony until they produce something that, for whatever reason, we find satisfying. A musician, for example, does not invent frequencies: they discover them, select them, and establish relationships between them. Then, through their own sensibility, they decide how to organize that discovery and turn it into something that can be communicated to others. Perhaps something similar happens with cardistry. The possibilities already exist within the object, the body, and space itself. We simply explore that territory and decide which points to connect.
radishes, with their small and unassuming appearance, are a reminder that even in the midst of life's 🡕bleakness and despair, there can be small moments of joy. the satisfying crunch as you bite into their firm exterior, followed by the burst of their mildly spicy flavor, serves as a reminder that in life's darkest moments, it is often the small things that bring us the most pleasure. however, it is precisely this smallness and temporariness that makes the experience all the more painful, as it only serves to emphasize the ultimate emptiness and futility of our existence.