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contrails and clusters
2 january 9 february,
2004

dew point, (detail)

We exist in an evolving choreography
with the spaces we inhabit. When does architecture help in freeing us
from limitations and when do we acquiesce to a predetermined set of restrictions?
When does the function or activity define a space as complete? How far
can we flex the implicit rules of an architecture? Departing from my inflatable
interior works and environments, I continue to search for ways to illuminate
our fluid relationship with our surroundings.
What are the forces that act
on a body and how do we read the invisible? In my recent installations
of clouds, constructed of thousands of hollow glass spheres, the forms
that are shaped by atmospheric and meteorological conditions crystallize,
as time has slows down, and bodies remain on the cusp of dematerialization.
By isolating individual guidelines of perception, I examine how we define
an object and how through the object we can understand its original context.
To what extent can a presence exist without the space around it? How can
we begin to talk about clouds; massive, ethereal, amoebas that float around
us in flux? They are mysterious, mystical and mundane. Nature makes manifest
these forces and conditions that would otherwise remain invisible.
In the star project, I have
taken images from the Sloan Digital Sky Survey (a photographic map of
the universe) and removed all of the "space," leaving the objects
to float in a true void. Then, I've allowed the bodies (stars, galaxies,
asteroids, etc.) to re-cluster in the middle of each image.
We rely on the stability of
principles that govern in our perception of reality. When this notion
(of stability) deteriorates, we become aware of opportunities to make
strange the familiar, and reveal our world as the ephemeral snarl of competing
conditions that it is.
These works are based in my
study of the space in-between, not just in-between the walls that define
a room, but the space in-between actions, and individuals and events.
This space is the agar in which our lives take shape. I'm interested in
the non-event, the non-thing, from boundary to boundary.
Lee Boroson, 2004
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