Twenty Pounds of Headlights
Griffin Mactavish
Fired clay, unfired clay, glaze, wood, paint, soil, sweet asylum seeds, water
Pouring, catching, using, growing, flowing, cracking, shrinking. Laying, thinking, watching. To see it all like this. To be that big. To be that small. Dirt dries out as soil soaks and gives. Young plants are born and grow to be big and strong. The line continues, and the wheels turn slower. The young plants travel to the base of a tree somewhere and join the rest of the world. The line continues and the wheels turn faster. Through the window things get farther, smaller, things get unfamiliar. The mist and fog turn to dust and wind and the sun sets at twelve in the day. The cracks are getting wider. The grass is tall and blocks the view. We haven't moved in eleven days and these screws are showing.
Twenty Pounds of Headlights is an installation composed of a bottle, a few pots and a ceramic landscape framed into two containers/pedestals. Bowls and plates containing seeds and sprouts that are watered slowly using ollas, are stuck into clay from my yard. The clay will shrink and crack, the seeds sprout and grow, and the fired objects stay the same.
