“At the beginning there is nothing. Then comes a deep void, and beyond it, a blue depth.”
These words, drawn from Bachelard’s L’air et les songes and embraced by Yves Klein in Le Vide (1958), open the path for my two pieces.
Both arise from the tension between fullness and emptiness — solid forms that hold within them a void, a quiet centre of “nothingness.”
Here, fragility is not about breaking but about allowing. The void becomes a vulnerable space, an opening through which the immaterial may descend. Within its silence lies the possibility of transformation.
To create is to accept the instability of being — to carve a hollow within oneself so that spirit can inhabit it. In Klein’s words, “the white becomes the resting place of the immaterial blue,” where presence and absence coexist — fragility turned into light.