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Space with form
Before me, a form. The simplest form. In Le Corbusier’s eyes, the most primitive form is the most beautiful one.
On its surface, hairline fissures where opportunities grow. According to Native American legend, when a crack appears in a piece of fired pottery, it will make a sound like life itself. This is our Earth, this is our great land, this is our fate as humans. Metal is a powerful symbol, it is what secures fissures and cracks.
A formless soul
Gaston Bachelard, a philosopher admired by Christine Fabre, believed that space is not a vessel in which solid matter resides, rather it is a space for human consciousness. She elucidates, “We live our entire lives in a space of our own creation.” With her two hands, she has defined an indefinable measure. A massive plate, a massive container, even a massive pair of earrings, are like endlessly expanding situations within a void. A deceptively basic form contains within a soul, an ode. It appears empty yet it contains everything.
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