The Antimatter pieces from 2008 are the plastic result of photographic fragmentation. The same images that portray me releasing a metal object into the air, transformed into dust, are broken down into square tiles that individually cover the face of a small cube. The six tiles needed to cover a cube are not sequential or related to each other, but rather drawn randomly from the pile. The total number of cubes is equivalent to an entire single photo, arranged in molecular geometry rather than, as is customary, on a flat surface. The resulting structure repeats the original nature of the matter, initially pulverized and released into the air, only to then recompose itself into the geometry of the forms that animate the works.
Like spiderwebs, these molecular geometries cling to space, seeking out spots less frequented by the eye and out of reach of human activity.
Shy and reserved shapes, we find them compressed at the corners and anchored to the ceiling, forcing us to look at them from above. Light and anti-gravity, they don’t yield to a support surface to settle in, but rather seek the heights like a balloon that has slipped from our grasp.