wood, steel, 1 light
Handling the machine, I move ‘in spirit of the present’. When extended, the weight of the scissor causes it to lean and bend. It survives by giving way; like trees do, as they face the wind.
As the object unfolds it invokes a deepening sense of space. The continuous expansion and retraction of it’s limbs challenges the understanding of our own magnitude.
The creaking wood echoes a life lived in stillness. The scissors reach outward and into the sky; as if to pick up even the faintest signal from our inhabitant cut ties. Through the focus and duration of the happening, the faces of these spirits get a chance to surface.
Joey Schrauwen 