“We are almost certainly wrong”
This artwork in progress is the result of a collaborative journey of glass artists and volcanologists. The intention of the ongoing research project is to establish a bilateral method of explorative and experimental practice to answer both pose and answer questions about our understanding of the inner workings of planet earth. The methods explore and nurture the relationship between an artisans tacit understanding of glass, as a molten fragile and dynamic material,l and the theories postulates and experimental methods of Volcanologists. The statement “we are almost certainly wrong” emerged from a conversation on a field trip to Iceland disusing the idea that during its formation kilometers underground, obsidian underwent a series of successive explosive fractures and fusions. I asked the scientists in the group “how do you ‘know’ this is what happens” and the response was “we don’t we are almost certainly wrong” . This mindset of intellectual humility, constantly questioning assumptions and seeking to expand knowledge was striking. Despite our best efforts to gather evidence and draw logical conclusions, there will always be a degree of uncertainty that surrounds our understanding of the world. History has shown us countless examples of major scientific discoveries that revolutionised our understanding, shattering long-held beliefs. From Copernicus challenging the geocentric model of the universe to Darwin's theory of evolution, we have seen how conventional wisdom can be overturned, revealing the fallibility of our previous assumptions. When we recognise our propensity for error, it becomes easier to consider alternative perspectives and engage in constructive dialogue. The following images and text describe the project as it is currently, there will be updates to this page and on scoical media as the project develops.
Hrafntinnuhryggur 65.704036, -16.717192 Icelandic for Raven flint ridge in northern Iceland. As the epic landscape stretched out around us, dark glossy black shards crunched underfoot. This site is special to volcanologists and to Icelandic history, as one of the best sources of black obsidian. A series of five outcrops progressively more developed makeup this ridge.
A stack of obsidian we built to collect on our way down from the ridge, samples to take back for scientific and artistic exploration. The steam in the background is the Krafla geothermal power plant, one of many in Iceland which now is entirely self sufficient in renewable energy. The way marker ‘cairn’ in English, ‘varða’ in Icelandic stands as an unnatural imposition on the landscape, partly functional in our case to allow us to find the cache on our way back, partly poetic, a transitory human trace on the land, echoed in the rising controlled and captured volcanic steam in the background.
The lump I selected for this artwork, about 2kg of pure black very homogeneous and un-fractured glass. Chosen for its potential to be rounded, to be shaped, and for its consistency in colour, no flow bands, or agglomerates, no spehreulites or devitrification, this chunk would most likely have come from the middle of a pure flow of obsidian frozen quickly in geological time not crystalline, and fully amorphous, a true natural glass. In my hands on this ridge it seemed full of potential to tell a story.
Firstly photographed, then 3D scanned, then the rough surfaces and fractured conchoidal scalloped concave forms were reduced down to its average smooth surface. This relatively simple process, grind away everything concave until you have a uniformly convex surface is similar in many respects to the natural pebble formation process that occurs in rivers and the seashore, where the tumbling and grinding of the mass of rocks knocks off all protrusions and eventually results in an average convex surface. Mimicking natural erosive processes but accelerated to a few hours of coldwork. Contrary to what would most likely happen to obsidian in the wild, it would usually crack and shatter as it is essentially unannealed glass, the result is a very human object. Whilst polishing with pumice I was mindful that pumice itself is volcanic glass, in fact if you heat obsidian to 1200c the primal water dissolved within the glass matrix will expand and puff up into pumice.
Part of the concept behind the work is the fact that no matter how deep or reductionist our study of the world becomes it is always a facsimile of what could be termed the real substance of the thing or the Kantian noumenon. In this case obsidian melted deep beneath the earths crust and pushed up under icesheets to form this glassy deep, fragile blackness. Over the last 4 years I have had the pleasure of working with Ed and Fabian in a venture that seeks to find a bilateral method of discovery between the science and the art "worlds"
After the impact, the slow measured and methodical catalouging and sorting begins. The first part of the process is to identify each fragment of a usable size that has part of the original polished egg surface. Then, using footage, structured light scanning and traditional conservation techniques I can begin to work out how to go to the next stage of this project.
Test reconstruction. I need to make sure that I can put the shards and fragments back together and work out the order in which they need to be placed. Although it seems close to imposible to use all the parts in the way I'm planning to make this artwork happen the majority of the fragments that madeup the outer shell will be used. It turned out that good old fashioned sellotape was the most effective temporary fix to hold everything together. Like any difficult puzzle your mind is free to wander. After things shatter we humans often try to rebuild, but the reconstruction is perhaps only the outward appearance of completeness, things get left out. Yet in the peocess of rebuilding and understanding there is new meaning. This ongoing journey towards the peice, "we are almost certainly wrong" will be a challenge, technically and conceptually but it is exciting to be moving forward.
Fragments of obsidian after reconstruction. Each part needs to be numbered with information about its place on the surface and then recorded before I paint them white for 3D scanning. Catalouging and recording each tiny part, slowly and carefully deconstructing my fallable attempt at reconstruction. Each stage in this process is like another step towards understanding what I'm doing. Here the process of catalouging chaos, of ordering the disorder on such a small inconsequential and insignificant shard of volcanic glass seems futile but in the longer term there is purpose. This will become a piece entitled "We are almost certainly wrong" Being attentive to the small things can perhaps make the big things more manageable.
