The black void running through the centre is filled with a web
of sharp intertwined
steel wire, complicating the seductive pull
of the
piece and introducing a new textural dimension.
It was also big, and on occasion even hazardous: long, slender columns
of steel with lots
of sharp edges and thick
pieces of broken glass sticking out
of their capitals — handling these cumbersome monstrosities was no laughing matter, and the many scars on my father's hands, arms, legs, and feet are stoic, worn reminders
of the risks I naively assumed, for the longest time, to be integral to the artist's trade.