Claire Kroužecký

LUME. Every afternoon during a week of illness, the sun came through the gaps in the blinds and onto the walls. I lay my paper down and traced its shape, tracking it centimetre by centimetre as it moved. Sometimes it disappeared of its own accord, sometimes I ran out of space on the page, and sometimes I stopped from fatigue. From this simple act of repetition a web of lines would emerge surprisingly, startlingly, quickly — a direct artefact of the rotation of the earth; weaving a thread from the celestial to the everyday.

These were the other pieces I showed at last weekend's Side by Side event @wise_child_wine_store. Thanks to all who came down to see the space. On the day we packed up the show I saw the most lovely spot of sunlight moving quietly but surely in the middle of the floor of the dark underground cellar. It was such a thrill to witness it with others, figuring out how it had arrived there and watching it glow, stretch, move and eventually disappear.

LUME. Conté on paper, framed in stained Tasmanian Oak, 23 x 21cm (1 & 2) and 30 x 21cm (3-5).