From the classic pointillism of Seurat to the digital age of pixels and back, artist Christian Faur  (who we discovered on Drawn.com) is using the same technique with a new medium that creates a new meaning all its own. Who knew a box of crayons to lead to such intricate works of art? Christian Faur discusses the inspiration behind his striking creations, “My earliest memories of making art involve the use of wax crayons. I can still remember the pleasure of opening a new box of crayons: the distinct smell of the wax, the beautifully colored tips, everything still perfect and unused. Using the first crayon from a new box always gave me a slight pain. Through a novel technique that I have developed, I again find myself working with the familiar form of the crayon.”

But crayons aren’t the only media he is using. In another work entitled, 1000 Names on Paper, the image of an American soldier is made from shredded paper that is printed with one-thousand of the most common names of those currently between the ages of eighteen and twenty-eight acording to the Social Security Administration. The image is made possible because of the way the text is rendered using different font sizes and “kernings” to appear darker or lighter.

We just can’t help but appreciate this kind of creativity.  

Comedian Demetri Martin has masterfully created a 224 word poem that is also a palindrome! Genius! “wow!” 

“Dammit I’m Mad”

         -by Demetri Martin

Dammit I’m mad.

Evil is a deed as I live.

God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.

To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.

Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?

Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.

I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.

Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp, 

In my halo of a mired rum tin.

I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.

Is evil in a clam? In a trap?

No. It is open. On it I was stuck.

Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.

Be still if I fill its ebb.

Ew, a spider… eh?

We sleep. Oh no!

Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.

Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.

Both, one… my names are in it.

Murder? I’m a fool.

A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash,

A Goddam level I lived at.

On mail let it in. I’m it.

Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!

A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.

Name not one bottle minus an ode by me:

“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”

Evil is a deed as I live.

Dammit I’m mad.