Avalanche, (A Pocket of Air, version3)
40cm x 60cm x 5cm deep | 16" x 24" x 2" deep, including frame
Description
Six sheets of 2mm clear glass, each spaced 5mm apart, with 2 layers of polyester drafting film sandwiched in the middle. The work can be viewed from both front and back; each view features a variation of the design, and different text, with shadowy images of the other side showing through the translucent drafting film. The glass sheets support polyrhythmic cursive calligraphy handwritten onto each layer. The reverse side also features layers of engraved lettering textures along the top edge. Writing on spaced layers of glass and drafting film facilitates a three dimensional composition that may be hard to imagine from flat images, as presented here. The glass sheets have been acid etched with free brushstrokes along top and bottom edges. The word Avalanche has been written twice in large white calligraphy on polyester drafting film that is sandwiched between the glass layers. The two renditions of the word are layered upon each other for textural effect, appearing both forwards and backwards from each side.
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Roll over the image without clicking for a close-up, click in the image for a huge enlargement.
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The image above shows the front view, below you can see the reverse.
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Detail of the writing showing shadows cast by sunlight falling on the glass prior to framing.
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UNDER THE AVALANCHE
I've heard that a pocket of air
can save your life
so I'm hunkering down in the grey
darkness of snow
and pulling cold around me
like a quilt
I'm warming the tiny air
in front of my face
re-breathing my own hot breath...
as if I were already
home and dry
reading under my bedclothes
with a torch.
© 2003 Catherine Byron |
The appearance varies depending on light conditions, eg. lit from front, or behind, as well as having front and back views, as pictured in the auto-changing slideshow at the top of this page. Strong directional light projects shadows of the writing as depicted above.
Text
"Under the Avalanche", a poem by Catherine Byron, 2003, where the poet imagines herself trapped "in the grey darkness of snow", yet finds solace in comparing her freezing isolation chamber to the near foetal safety of "reading under my bedclothes with a torch". Since beginning work with her text, the author has told me that the poem emerged "from the state of being morphine-happy", following life-saving surgery.
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