the artwork was almost entirely burned during a fire and later activated by a time-based action with Sandra Chrzanowski, Andries De Lange, Luïza Luz, and Andrea Mineo
Terraformation art residency, curated by Mayer Pavillion, with the support of Farm Cultural Park
Ethical Statement
Animal bones are respectfully included to raise awareness of our complex ecosystem. This work does not reference any cultural or religious practices;
Part of a Research Cluster
This artwork is part of the Ecological Disturbance to Creative Interruption research cluster, which explores the intersections of art, ecology, and creative processes. To learn more about the ongoing research and related works, please visit the Research Cluster page.
Establishing Context
I found a broken sculpture with two human heads in a rural area. This sculpture inspired me to create a work about sharing a vision.
We were invited to an art residency to envision the artistic future of a vast rural area.
While collecting some wasted materials like plastic, metals, glass, from the rural area, I suddendly found a fragment of a sculpture.
The fragmented sculpture depicted two interconnected human heads. The two connected human heads showed unity. Yet, broken into pieces, they reveal this challenge. It shows how hard it is for people to think together.
I kept the sculpture with me and walked through the rural field.
Then, I discovered a concrete pillar hidden in the vegetation. I stepped onto it. I turned to see the landscape all around. The view felt like a shared experience, inspiring me to create art and invite other artists to join me.
I unexpectedly found two nails on one side of the pillar, which I used to enhance the network of threads. With my “subtle habitat” idea, I enjoy uncovering hidden details in the environment to aid in creating the artwork.
I spent several days creating the raffia net. I often visited the pillar early in the morning to avoid the intense daytime heat. Around six in the morning, a couple of lizards would typically appear from a rock I named “lizards’ rock.” By seven o’clock, ants would arrive, becoming the first visitors to my work. They traversed the raffia strings with curiosity, using them like highways.
A local person informed me that fires in the area were common, sometimes deliberately set to encourage faster growth of new vegetation. An artist mentioned similar practices in their own country. Intrigued, I delved deeper and began researching this practice known as slash-and-burn.
The fire nearly destroyed my artwork. It left behind fragments. These fragments only showed part of the network of threads, which suggests that the rules aren’t as stable as we thought.
A few days later, I invited the other artists in residence to join me in activating the artwork through a collective artistic action. Each artist held the sculpture I had found, stepped onto the concrete pillar, and observed the surroundings as I had initially. Together, we silently considered a shared vision, passing the sculpture to the next person as they descended from the pillar. The last artist returned the sculpture to me.
