When I first encountered an image of dandelion seed heads suspended from the ceiling in a small white room, I was conflicted as to whether I wanted to know more. The implausibility of the scene was part of its charm—would the logistics of the piece unravel its sublime reverie? I should introduce this piece with a spoiler then: here, we tell you how it's done.
German artist Cornelia Konrads creates site-specific installations that appear as though the universe is reassembling itself, and you are walking in on the process. Her work has been said to convey the illusion of weightlessness of objects falling into place.
For the last month or so, autumn's enthusiasts have been converging in Ludwigsburg, Germany for an annual festival. Snapshots from this year's event read like a children's storybook: a lake filled with pumpkin-boat paddlers, a feast of champagne and pumpkin strudel, and a sculpture garden of dinosaur pumpkins—all under the shadow of a seventeenth-century castle.
"Enough of the machine — I want to build the limbs of nature."—El Lissitzky, 1924