Spier Light Art Festival

March 10, 2023 - April 10, 2023

In the aftermath of the pandemic, ‘ghosts’ haunt our landscapes, our world has wobbled on its axis  and become unstable.  In this illogical world transparent fish share the ocean with satellites and space probes, devices that have travelled across the dark realms of unknown  galaxy’s.

Across vast arcs of time and space,  ships from the past float across the surface. They are blown across a  narrow band that is both sea and a bandage to dress a wound.  These ghostly ships connect the twenty-first century to the seventeenth, between them lies our bodies, our faces, our eyes, doubly invisible.

In the night sky shimmering  owls on the hunt fly across the pages of an open  book, as bats use soundwaves to mark their space. The text is from Michel Foucault’s chapter Las Meninas, the first chapter in his book The Order of Things. The words become part of the night sky through which the owl flies, over which the fish leap. Like the owls and bats that haunt our dreams in Goya’s The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, these creatures from the imagination defy reason as the natural order of things. The owl hovers for a moment, motionless, suspended, caught in a moment of stillness.

In the top panel constellations  seen from the southern hemisphere connect star to star, the horse Pegasus beckons to leaping Pisces; a hunter, Orion, aims it arrow at a running dog , Canis Minor; and Leo, the lion constellation confronts the pincers of the crab, Cancer.

Between the sea and the sky, lie the open pages of a book, with words that reveal that in the midst of this dispersion spreading out before us is an essential void.

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