We look before we see. It looks as if it were light as air; as if sweet breath plumped it up. When we look for longer, we can see that it changes shape, leaves a mark and grows ever heavier on the arm that wears it.
Made of ice, it is not just cold, but painful to the touch. The longer it is worn (or held on the bearers arm) the more the object becomes less tangible and more slippery. Inside the bracelet – once free in water, now trapped in ice, melting slowly in real time, but in abrasive temporal leaps for the viewer, hair, fingernails and pearls are slowly released, falling away from the arm that wears it.
Looking for life in a sea of loss: on Jasmine Te Hira’s Lost Content (2013) and The Beauty of Invisible Grief (2016)
Tara Judah 