Orosz’s unassuming title “The Library” gives no
hint of this print’s Escheresque themes of duality, metamorphosis, dimension,
and impossible structures. As we gaze
upward at the ivy-encrusted walls surrounding the Gothic window, we think “yes,
a typical old library.” But as our gaze
sweeps downwards, those outer ivy walls seamlessly metamorphose into the
library’s interior, and that window, closed a moment ago, has opened into the
book-filled room. Where does “out” end,
where does “in” begin? Where does stone
pillar become wooden window frame?
Gazing too long at the center of the print can produce vertigo—our brain
can’t decide which way to interpret that window, and flits back and forth in
its perception. The library visitor (Orosz), momentarily paused in his reading
to reflect, stands on a parquet floor that rises up to become a pile of cubes. The
propped sketch of a hypercube hints at this play with dimension—when does
two-dimensional become three (or four)? Other impossibilities lie about—a
Leonardo-like dodecahedron with impossible connections, a scrap drawing of a
Penrose triangle beckoning us to discover that same triangle in the window,
working its magic transformation. And
yet all of this is a library, Orosz’s own library, the spines of books
inscribed with names of artists, scientists, mathematicians, musicians,
philosophers, and others from whom he draws his inspiration. What will his
musings produce next?
(Doris Schattschneider)
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Megjegyzés küldése