Sentences with phrase «reflecting floor sculpture»

Illuminating in the main gallery was the juxtaposition of Fernandez's white square reflecting floor sculpture against Morris's steely gray but gently circular wall piece, titled Observatory (1972).

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Dwell Rimini Floor Lamp — Brass — Global Views Inspired by Italian design from the»60s and»70s, this floor lamp is crafted entirely of brass into a botanical sculpture, with hammered leaves that function as shades and reflect a warm, golden lFloor Lamp — Brass — Global Views Inspired by Italian design from the»60s and»70s, this floor lamp is crafted entirely of brass into a botanical sculpture, with hammered leaves that function as shades and reflect a warm, golden lfloor lamp is crafted entirely of brass into a botanical sculpture, with hammered leaves that function as shades and reflect a warm, golden light.

Elements of the sculpture spread out on the floor are reflected in the glass that protects the photographs.

On the ground floor of the Snøhetta - designed expansion, visitors and passersby will find Richard Serra's monumental sculpture Sequence (2006) in the free - to - visit, glass - walled Roberts Family Gallery, made possible by Linnea and George Roberts, where Roman steps will provide an inviting space to reflect and gather.

Alongside this site - specific work, the sculpture «Untitled (Folded Mirror) 5» (2011) sharply bends against the floor and the wall reflecting and transforming our approach.

As a sequel to the pop - up exhibition Beeld, which took place on the upper floor of the Citroën garage during the first edition of the fair, Beeld 2 will reflect tendencies in contemporary sculpture through a range of works proposed by participating galleries and selected by Karel Schampers and Joost de Clercq.

Reflecting Haacke's involvement with the West German - based group Zero, Condensation Wall is part of a set of sculptures, includingCondensation Cube and Condensation Floor, that combine geometric shapes and organic materials to reveal physico - dynamical processes.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

Recycled plastic iceberg sculptures cover the floor and glow eerily under black light while scents waft through the air and videos documenting collisions between the natural and manmade world stream continuously on two glass screens that reflect images onto the walls.

Both the reflecting surface on the wall and the elongated floor sculpture evoke a body through fragments, allusions, and lacunae.

Varied in mode and scale, each dynamic wall, floor or large - scale outdoor sculpture, reflects the artist's thoughtful investigation of the natural world and her distinctive expression of it.