A vision in the Cyclades, Greece, on a winter's day. A storm stirs an opalescent sea. On the horizon, a... Read More
A vision in the Cyclades, Greece, on a winter's day. A storm stirs an opalescent sea. On the horizon, a small Orthodox chapel seems to be carried away by the waves. White and blue, it appears as an iceberg adrift.
Why does this image of the iceberg chapel remain so present? Perhaps it marks the meeting of two sacred territories: the ark and the ice sheet, architecture and landscape, human vision and geological forces, united in a slow transformation. Perhaps they sustain one another. Frozen water becomes living water; light imprisoned within the ice escapes. The object gradually dissolves, like the forgotten polar worlds themselves, our earth and our sky.
The image has never left me; it exists. To carve a chapel directly into the ice of an iceberg and let it drift away becomes an imperative. The sculpture melts, carrying with it its own disappearance.
Here, the marble reproduction fixes the vision in crystalline white. It is a first body that gives form to this synthesis and conveys its meaning. Solid and motionless, it preserves the memory of a form destined to vanish.
