'Almost Invisible Breath', 2103. Exhibition 'Light Perceptions'.
I am watching the condensation. The warmth of our breath meets the cold outside air. Tiny droplets of water form against the window. Light reflects and moves across each one, dividing itself into a thousands glistening beads.
A shallow pool of water collects on the window sill.
It is raining outside but the cement interior is hardened and dry. I lay black vinyl down and mould a plasticine lip around its circumference, a seal to hold in water. All the water it can take. A slick black surface against raw and porous concrete, wet with dry.
From this angle I can see clouds. If I stand here I see the surrounding architecture reflected in it. Outside a pedestrian walks by, inside their head moves smoothly across the water without leaving any wake. Sometimes it look like oil, a glossy black spill.
It’s opening night. A man squats right to the puddles edge and leans his body over it. He scratches dandruff from his scalp and watches it fall. Whites specks and stray hairs sit stagnant on the waters surface.
Day 2- It is sunny. Dust, dandruff and hair. The water needs changing. Somewhere it is leaking. Water has seeped down into the porous concrete and leached its way through the cracks. They appear darker and more broken than before. With everyday, the damp thickens and the mildew is worse.
Day 3- Some children are dipping their fingers into it. Their excitement ripples with the acoustics. They call their dad over to come and see. He cautions them to be careful.
Day 4- It is the last day to show. The cracks are bigger now. It is agreed the puddle should be pulled up. Today is the busiest day and there are a flow of visitors. There is nothing to see, no vinyl, plastercine or water as printed on the handout. There is uncertainty and a faint oily residue tracing the outline of where it lay. A barely visible stain marks perhaps something more beautiful, a phenomenon or a life surrounding it, a beginning and end. Perhaps suiting its title more aptly now than before, an ‘Almost Invisible Breath’.
I am watching the condensation. The warmth of our breath meets the cold outside air. Tiny droplets of water form against the window. Light reflects and moves across each one, dividing itself into a thousands glistening beads.
A shallow pool of water collects on the window sill.
It is raining outside but the cement interior is hardened and dry. I lay black vinyl down and mould a plasticine lip around its circumference, a seal to hold in water. All the water it can take. A slick black surface against raw and porous concrete, wet with dry.
From this angle I can see clouds. If I stand here I see the surrounding architecture reflected in it. Outside a pedestrian walks by, inside their head moves smoothly across the water without leaving any wake. Sometimes it look like oil, a glossy black spill.
It’s opening night. A man squats right to the puddles edge and leans his body over it. He scratches dandruff from his scalp and watches it fall. Whites specks and stray hairs sit stagnant on the waters surface.
Day 2- It is sunny. Dust, dandruff and hair. The water needs changing. Somewhere it is leaking. Water has seeped down into the porous concrete and leached its way through the cracks. They appear darker and more broken than before. With everyday, the damp thickens and the mildew is worse.
Day 3- Some children are dipping their fingers into it. Their excitement ripples with the acoustics. They call their dad over to come and see. He cautions them to be careful.
Day 4- It is the last day to show. The cracks are bigger now. It is agreed the puddle should be pulled up. Today is the busiest day and there are a flow of visitors. There is nothing to see, no vinyl, plastercine or water as printed on the handout. There is uncertainty and a faint oily residue tracing the outline of where it lay. A barely visible stain marks perhaps something more beautiful, a phenomenon or a life surrounding it, a beginning and end. Perhaps suiting its title more aptly now than before, an ‘Almost Invisible Breath’.