Taking the rough with the smooth
Christina Maile t he landscape that stretches before us is covered in a skin of meridians which float invisibly over land and ocean. As if we resided at the height of constellations, it is this surface, this reflected sky, and its re-presentations — maps, charts, topos, geo- metric diagrams, and inevitably architectural drawings — that we gaze down upon when we seek full disclosure of the world. It is upon their smooth rational plains, and not the beating earth, that we navigate our plans. So pervasive is this cosmological surface on our perception of the world, it has become an eternally present surface, lurking within the folds of all that exists, always ‘already there’. It beckons us with its pristine metaphors of the cosmological condition. In the bumps and grinds and rough particularities of the earth’s surface, we tirelessly draw perfect ellipses, self-
Glass luminous with the very sky of mythic origin , illuminated at night like regimented stars, infinitely reflecting, mirroring, presenting and re-presenting the planes and angles of the eternal surface, as we, captive to awe, stand gazing at ourselves and our works in endless speculation. How can the rotting hide of the earth’s surface compare? Its torn regions of crusts and wounds, its chaotic and quivering dimensions; the very breath of it breeds murkiness and weather, the twin enemies of the eternal sur- face. Yet it is so enticing, the sound of the earth. The pounding rhythm of its peaks and hollows invite topographical intimacy, invite us to become lost in its layered pleasures, to be made deaf to everything but its siren call, to
absorbed triangles, golden rectangles — our grand vision of the eternal surface. Re-inscrib- ing them on the earth at ever larger scales afirms their power over us. Out of an intan - gible surface materializes a shining immaculate world. Our imagination can scarcely think oth- erwise. Therein lies the orthodoxy. Lest we lose the- fortuitous destiny of the eternal surface and its illusion of control, we must remain steadfast to its axioms. In faithful celebration of what we imagine to be the cool ethereal beauty of its chaste skin, we have created images in its image. Around us tower polished marble and sheets of burnished steel, sanded walls, and objects re-enskined in gloss, semi-gloss, semi- matte, anything to cover the original sin of their grainy nakedness. But most of all, there is glass in all its somber purity and divine clarity.
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O n S ite review
S urface
I ssue 9 2003
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