The magical swing
A knotted, honey-toned wooden column rises from a single foot and divides into a fork: two arms open like the pans of a scale. On the left rests a heavy grey stone with cutting edges; on the right, a greenish, translucent mineral that catches the light. Between them the trunk holds the weighing, in a stillness that seems forever about to tip. A small bolt sits flush against the shaft, a quiet trace of the assembly. Where other pieces weigh downward, this one plays at suspension: gravity becomes the subject.
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Reading notes
The title announces a swing, and the fork answers it: two weights opposed in everything, held in balance. A more playful bestiary shows through, close to Shary Boyle's owned grotesque: the grave and the animated held in the same hand.