One of the most exciting experiences of my life was taking apart a plastic model kit of the Apollo Command Module built by my brother a few years previously. He must have followed the instructions perfectly because as I began to move through each of the compartments of the model (sometimes with a pair of pliers), I would uncover completely assembled and fully equipped rooms complete with astronauts.
What made it so enticing was the element of surprise and discovery. It was the King Tut’s tomb of my time. Each doorway I tore off or cut through revealed another hidden sanctum, sealed off for thousands of years.
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Finally I got to the interior compartment where there were numerous cables and pipes, some covered with gluey fingerprints. What was the purpose of incorporating such details into a part of a plastic model kit that was going to be enclosed and unseen? Even though I was rather young at the time, I wondered why a model kit would be made so realistically, containing such detail that was not likely to ever be appreciated by anyone except the person who assembled it or their little brother who, like a tomb robber might pull it apart (plastic model parts actually form welds when glued together).
With fractals it’s the same thing, and Inkblot Kaos produces these intriguing cave-like structures with strange, garlic like plants in them, growing in undisturbed silence. The formulas produce the rich details and it’s easy to become casual and indifferent to these “careful” details because they were made by a machine, a computer algorithm, and not an artist’s hand.