Unmechanical distractions

I finally sat down last weekend to read my sister's master's thesis (the written component, since she didn't ship all the artwork to chicago for my benefit) which I believe is titled something like "Towards an Epistemological Art in an Age of Mechanical Distraction". I think this title might be why it took me so long to pick up the pages. It turns out the conceptual aspect of all those nice drawings she does is somewhat straightforward - she hopes to help people appreciate "slow art" (much like the resurgence of "slow food") and even, as a more underlying goal, to inspire people even to observe and see slowly. Features of our geography and context are often lost to us when we drive or take the bus, even walking is of little use if we are purely goal-oriented and don't bother with the immediate environment - we lose connection to what grounds us physically in this world.
I at least am very aware of my physical, grounding minutiae this morning as I contemplate the veil of snow resting lightly on the pavement and green tips of grass. Fallen snow reveals more plainly not only the landscape that lies underneath it, but even the subtlety of air currents and the paths of breezes that shape the delicate frosting into piles and ridges where one would expect flat, unremarkable ground. I love to watch the flakes fall, to see where they land, and then to dash out into the weather myself, watch my coat speckle, squeak the fresh snow under my shoes, compacting it, and crunch the older icy chunks (a delight that never fails me) back into a glinting, hard confetti. Glitter falling from a party invitation - Today is Special.