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Que faire?

Pencil Drawing, 5 m x 1.5 m, 2019.


"Using a laser scanner, Heu produced a 3D rendering of a walnut, and then translated this scan into a drawing five metres across. Forms appear, yes, but as quickly disappear, and to commit these to words—to say this palm looks like a wing, this nutshell like a rockface, a churning sea—feels banal, like reciting a dream upon waking. Which seems the point: Heu is less interested in analogy, in drawing equivalences, than in those moments when we lose the sense of what we’re looking at, when we’re overwhelmed by what things could be."

Kitt Webb

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Epicentre

Steel, bone transducers 3.6 m x 3.6 m x 2 m, October - December 2018.


"I'm not sure how best to approach it, though I'm instructed, Kneel, and raise your elbows, position them on the coin-shaped recesses of the cube you've fallen before, press your palms against your ears. It's a commonplace to vaunt art's power to prostrate us; rarer, in my experience, for an installation to bring us to our knees.

Cubes in the gallery - arranged as mirrors, or cast in hot-rolled steel, six foot by six foot - were used by mid-century minimalists (Robert Morris, Tony Smith) to play our bodies back to us, whether glanced in glass, or figured in the dimensions of oiled metal. This feels different; not only because I can almost rest my cheek on steel, not only because I am urged to touch.

The cube is tilted, sliced away so as to seem part-sunk into the floor; lanced through with harpoon-axes (marking x, y, z). Leaning forward in this elbow-embrace, with the room's sounds muffled, my body is made conduit, a message channelled through my bones. Between my palms, through my skull, icebergs scrape the ocean floor, volcanoes burble underwater; another world, alien, inscrutable, sounds closed within this frame.

An epicentre is not the focus or fulcrum of activity, but above it; the point on the earth's surface under which the ground shivers. 'Epicentre' decentres us: it makes the origin, the zero-point—where x, y, z meet at O - unreachable, unknowable; the cube's slant sets us and our world off-kilter. We are held outside, fixed to an edge; the work asks us to lean, to fall, so it might enter us instead."

Kit Webb

Black Box

Hetching, aquatinte, A3, 2017.