The Weight of Gravity

We build structures to keep the sky at bay. We hang things from ceilings to convince ourselves that we have mastered the space above our heads. But look closely at the way light bends through glass. It does not care for our architecture. It only knows how to fall, how to scatter, how to lose itself in the repetition of a curve. There is a strange comfort in things suspended, held in a state of permanent arrival. They are not falling, yet they are not quite resting. They are waiting for a wind that will never come, caught in a cycle of color that serves no purpose other than to exist. We spend our lives trying to anchor ourselves to the earth, forgetting that the most beautiful things are those that have learned to let go of the ground. What happens when the ceiling finally gives way to the dark?

Aarthi Ramamurthy has captured this tension in her work titled Swirl. It is a reminder that even in the brightest places, there is a quiet geometry to be found. Does it pull you in, or does it push you away?