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A cursory glance towards the sky, a look closer, and nuances slowly emerge. These slight changes in appearance, and the subtle texture of cumulus, cumulonimbus, stratocumulus, or nimbostratus blanket an ever more concentrated gaze. A moment later, a nonchalant encounter with the sun, one which is advised against as to protect our sensitive eyes and obscure its spots, magnetic fields, warps and waves. The oculus unwillingly measures the distance of cloud to sky to sun and assesses its curvatures, lengths and depths. A starting point where data smears into beauty. And the observer and the observed become one.
In Anina’s and Brigham’s After Aeromancy, the subject and object, the spectator and the model, reverse their roles to infinity. They take part in ceaseless exchange between nature and culture, whilst building own models of the celestial bosom. It is Aeromancy, just like its Latin root suggests: an alchemical science, atmospheric wizardry, and a moment of absolute speculative poetry. What transpires is a model for the sun, a model for the sky, a model for the paper planes. The models they build are meant to be greeted by the gaze, but are also dismissed by it. It is clear that no gaze is stable, because images are ubiquitous and as such, “as images”, blur all distinctions.