Objects that we are drawn to – personal adornments, ornaments in general, a feathered embroidery, a necklace, a capital, an eave… – are more often than not imitations of models found in nature: a flower’s petals, a plant’s leaves, a bird’s plumage…We’re struck not only by the beautiful colors of these objects but also by the arrangement of their different elements. When we take objects that are seemingly identical and try to create something new with them we have no choice but to subject ourselves to the laws of physics, letting them guide us in our effort to create something that will mirror the beauty and harmony that exist in nature.
To play this game we simply incorporate the parts – which we can interpret to be feathers or leaves from a pita plant – one at a time, inserting and pressing them into the spaces that appear between them, until the plant or the tuft of feathers begins to take shape. With two or more players we can let chance have a role as well, intervening in the other person’s construction.
The vertex, the common point at which two lines converge – or diverge – , is a primordial element in the graphic representation of all kinds of phenomena. It is first and foremost a graphic symbol, one that in its essence is the synthesis of an event. It marks the point where a road separates, where two rivers come together, where one plane ends and another begins, a change of direction, a fold, a dilemma posed by two possibilities, the branching out of growth and evolution, the cross-linking of a plane, the planar deconstruction of a volume, an itinerary for logical reasoning, computational structure, algorhythmic formulation…
Is it an inanimate object or is there something in it that gives it life? Could it be that he reminds us of the messenger boy, the newspaper vendor, the shoeshine or the apprentice of any number of jobs – one who depends on his arms and legs to carry out these menial jobs in order to scrape by? Where does our sympathy for an object come from? Where do our emotions spring from -weak and subtle as they may be – where if not from the emotions of life itself and the spirit that animates it?
Could these trunks have once belonged to a cherry tree, with its shimmering red leaves? Or to an elegant birch tree, nestled close to a mountain stream? In either case, happy little creatures would have been found skittering about under their branches, which would have undoubtedly provided shade for more than one weary, long-forgotten traveler.
The tightrope walker balances over the precipice, risking life and limb as he walks over the thinnest of threads. They are not actors; rather, they relive what is essentially their life away from the wire. We are all tightrope walkers, though some more than others. Whether we are aware of it or not, we are all balanced on the edge. That is what they are trying to tell us.