Philipp Modersohn: Turbulenzen im Teich

About

An accordion takes a deep breath, filling the extent of its interior cavities. It can accept all types of gases; toxic, smoky, dusty, clean, no matter what, it indiscriminately takes all matter around. In its most unfurled state you will notice each of the ribs along its bellow, flexing and drooping down. When satisfied with its inhalation, it collapses slowly letting out a choir of harmonies that echo the crevasses of its bosom. And everything that was inside is being pushed out to fill the halls of our ears or the surrounding flanks in new mixtures and temperatures, either being sucked back again into the caverns of the instrument or settling in carefully sorted layers somewhere else.

The Turbulenzen im Teich (Turbulences in the Pond) are a halted cycle of sedimentation and dispersion. A party-like scene that sinks beneath the upper most surface of the pond; the closed-circuit biosphere and cultural connections are submerged under the flat lily pad-like panels. Sands and grains bubble up onto the surface, but are also melted into the solid forms that raise above sea level.

The looking glasses that punctuate the perimeter are in a state of transition from their granular origin and infer to a perspective of the scene from above, similar to looking at a collapsed accordion. Like beholding a squeeze box that has two round ends, the bird’s-eye view of the pond gives the impression of a simple arrangement of a squat cylinders, breathlessly folded. The geometric boundaries can be summarized into perfect ovals scattered across a landscape.

But when looking at a compressed accordion, you nevertheless envisage the extent of its breath, which passes from one compartment to the other. With a bit of encouragement, those imaginations could soon be followed the by thoughts of a giant instrument, whose chambers flood and empty of ocean currents and spew volcanic particles that eventually fall like dust onto car windows and scenic green pastures. With time, the ribs contract and the collected dust will be compressed into stone. A stone is very much like the closed squeeze box, full of potential and anticipation for the next inhalation that will break everything up again into particles and fill the lungs of the world to its fullest extent before being spewed out again in a new order.

And its no wonder that this is a party, as very slowly, imperceptible to our impatient ears, there is a gentle hum of turbulences that harmoniously reflect the push and pull of the geological accordion. When the belly is full, the sands gather up to build mountains as they do monuments and buildings, and slip away into ponds and puddles when pressed by human or otherwise natural forces.

Anna Szaflarski