As a youngster, I adored art class. I savored the opportunity to fashion absurd objects out of papier-mâché, construct miniature furniture out of old toilet paper tubes and try my hand at the messy ...

Take a look at Peter Foucault's artistic robots, who wheel around the flat, white expanse of their own world, armed only with a sharpie and an existential mandate to draw stuff. Preesnted at a party ...