This weekend saw the portraits of Flavor Flav and Alexander McQueen stitched, but it was the Stéphane Mallarmé from yesterday that bared sharing. Some time ago I met Maya Angelou in a bookstore and she asked if I was a poet. I told her that I write stuff on blank pages. She said that it was Mallarmé who spoke of the blank page.
Here he is as the subject of a blank piece of fabric: