A Cluster Steeped in Poison

Seven rounded forms gather close together, shoulder to shoulder, as if caught mid breath. Where the light finds them their curved skins turn into fields of fine scratches, scattered points that catch and hold the glow. Where the light does not reach, the bodies stay solid and dark, sealed shut, giving nothing away. The whole image lives in that division, between what is allowed to shine and what is kept in shadow.

Nothing here was added. No paint, no print, no ink. The picture is built by removal, a field of individual marks and a field of fine scratches worked into the surface of deep green coloured mirror glass, so that every line and every point of light is a small act of taking away rather than putting down.

Green is the colour of glass and growth, but also of something quieter and less comfortable, a tint that can slide from beautiful to faintly toxic without changing shade. A Cluster Steeped in Poison holds its subjects close together in that ambiguity, a huddle of glowing forms that might be marveled at or kept at a careful distance, depending on how long you look.

From across the room the cluster reads as one dense, monumental mass, orbs pressed into each other, almost breathing as a single body. Step closer and that mass dissolves into a field of scratches, each one distinct, each one holding its own small point of light. The work asks to be seen twice, once as a whole and once as structure.

Because this is mirror glass, the room you stand in is never fully separate from the image. Around and between the scratched forms, your own outline and the space behind you settle quietly into the surface, so that looking at the work also means finding yourself inside it.

The image is always present here, with or without direct light. Light does not create it. It sharpens it, deepening the contrast and giving the scratched surface more shine and depth, while the reflection around it shifts with the room. The image itself never disappears and never needs to be found.

A Cluster Steeped in Poison continues the Art on Mirror series by Tijs Dragtsma, in which scratched imagery is set into coloured mirror glass and the viewer becomes part of the work. A visual language where damage is not destruction, but structure, and where the mirror turns looking into taking part. This work is unique.

"Held close, and lit from within."

More about the artist, process and materials can be found on the About page.

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