'Nuts and Balls and All Things Nice'Size: 72 x 70 x 135cm
Medium: Hand metal cast elements (nuts, balls) with curving on main structure
Edition: 20 + 4 AP
This production is no mere assemblage: it seems to have grown organically in a spontaneous crystalline exflorescence, it¡¯s nuts, bolts and ball bearings each consisting of an indivually-formed crystal, harmoniously coalescing into this stunning creation as if catalysed by a mystical natural process that magnetised these disparate elements together to mesh into a holistic whole of admirable integration. The true alchemy of this work, however, inheres in its matchless attention to detail and scrupulous obedience to the stern diktat of pathos and esoterica. This imparts a cleanliness and crispness of form and function of virtually cryogenic clarity. A proper throne indeed for a brooding Robot Ruler to hold sway over enthralled legions of clicking, clinking, clanking, blinking, winking whirligigs, gadgets, widgets and clockwork doohickeys. This piece emanates the secret consciousness of the machines that regulate us and, all to often, tyrannise us with their spinning, whirring, data-crunching, byte-spewing exactitude, administering our affairs from their hidden world to which our access is as barred as effectively as if it were in an alternate universe. But then there is no room for open government in a dimension such as this, where the very laws of physics have been repealed.
This glittering brainchild of Wang Qinsong¡¯s muse exhales the rust-tainted air of cold mines under dark moons in whose deep-delving shafts quicksilver dust motes float like balloons, where in intricate mazes and catacombs insectoid miners crack their clacking mandibles against brittle basalt to extract the ore of fossilised ambrosia, and from it smelt in phosphorescent foundries the sprockets and cogs that turn the wheels of time and chance with the atomic precision of a decaying isotope. The sweep of the arms suggests a suspension bridge strung with comet pearl globes leading upward to infinite possibilities in a trimension beyond the ken of angels. The chair back and footrests are embryo galaxies strung out on elemental abacuses waiting to be born in a blast of bombast. The wicked, metallic sheen of each faceted face is the sibiliant whisper of icy nuggets as they fracture from frigid space, the contrasting orbs, spun in freefall from titanium dew, are the bearings that hold the cycle of the Cosmos true. This work reverberates with omniscience that inspires rapt reverence.
Do you dare to sit on the Seat of Omnipotence?
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