The Memory of Ice, my latest body of work, is a testament to the delicate dance between art and science. It is a symphony composed in frozen notes, where the crystalline structures of ice reveal secrets that transcend time.
At its core lies a historic method, an ancient alchemy that breathes life into my creations. Cyanotype, a two-hundred-year-old process of camera-less photography becomes my lens, and through it I capture the ephemeral beauty of ice formations. These delicate blueprints are etched by sunlight, chemistry and the passage of time.
But my process doesn’t end there. I step beyond the analog realm, digitizing the cyanotypes and it is in this digital domain that I explore the microcosm—the intricate dendritic patterns and fractal geometries. These natural formations are the reoccurring signature of nature and have held me captive for years. And here lies the revelation: these patterns are not mere happenstance. They are a visible embodiment of mathematical equations. Mathematics—the universal language—is speaking through the veins of ice. I once saw math as cold and rigid but now find it elegant and beautiful. It weaves itself into the very fabric of existence, whispering secrets to those who listen. In the grand tapestry of life, math plays a critical role. It orchestrates the symphony of ecosystems, the ballet of climate change. As we grapple with sustainability, math becomes our compass as it guides us toward solutions, urging us towards achieving an equilibrium with nature itself.
Perhaps, after all, existence is a numbers game—a cosmic equation waiting to be solved. And as an artist, I find solace in this truth. For within the frost-kissed labyrinth of ice, I glimpse eternity—the memory of ages past and the promise of ages yet to come.