On 6 May 2006 I saw a Curse bowl in a temporary exhibition at the British Museum. The curse in the bowl was meant for someone who had obviously royally annoyed the instigator of the curse. (See below.) 

The bowl itself was undoubtedly commissioned from a supplier of curse and blessing bowls with the curse inscribed at the instigation of the victim.

Mesopotamian curse bowls are a type of ancient artifact typically found in Mesopotamian regions, such as Babylonia or Assyria. These bowls were commonly made of clay and inscribed with curses or spells intended to ward off evil spirits or enemies. The inscriptions often named specific individuals believed to have wronged the person commissioning the bowl, invoking divine forces to bring harm or misfortune upon them. Mesopotamian curse bowls are significant artifacts for understanding ancient beliefs, practices, and social dynamics in that region.

The curse bowl led to my interest in the intentional ambiguity of some inscriptions. Literacy was less common so there were specialist scribes, however it appears that some of those scribes were not averse to fraud and would leave the making of the curse bowl to subordinates less or non-literate but who could make a convincing imitation of writing.  Whilst meaningful curses and blessings revealed societal insights, it was the nonsensical ones that intrigued me.

As an artist, I became interested in generating synthetic text resembling real language. Collaborating with Carl Ingalls of Embossing Technologies, we developed Forkostraph, a program that crafted text mirroring input patterns without repeating words.

Defining what Forkostraph was exactly is and was is not easy. A tool, an algorithm, or perhaps art itself? Its nature resisted easy definition, embodying the paradox of seeking meaning in meaninglessness.

I worked on several projects under the curse Bowl/Forkostraph umbrella, Tords was one.