Nate Robison

Nate Robison
The Earth cranes its neck to get a better look, a moment of self-reflection for the passing satellite
Hypertufa (Portland cement, peat moss, vermiculite, perlite), broken DVDs, mirror, plastic containers
33in x 8in x 8in
2020


The earth cranes its neck to get a better look, creates an eyestalk out of mud. The satellite has a fraction of a second to see its five o'clock shadow and think "I look rough".

The connection between me and the outside world is almost entirely digital now, just bouncing recorded light back and forth. I was looking at my home on Google Earth, and thinking about the light relationship between the Earth, my backyard, and a passing satellite, the sky. I wanted to make a Tower of Babel out of dirt and shiny bits of trash, to act as a mediator and a couple's therapist for the Earth and the sky.

Years ago, my mom would drive to Lancaster to make hypertufa pots with a friend in her backyard. She would always talk about wanting to start making them here at home, but we never got around to it. Once quarantine started, she ordered a couple books on it and put on her mask and gloves and went to Home Depot to get the materials. I started helping her make the pots and troughs, learning the balance of materials you need to mix together to make it strong and make it dry into a nice color.

While I made this, my mom would come into the backyard and watch me, joke with me, suggest how to mix it, helped me move it into the sun to dry. It made her excited, and so it tethered us. It gave us a window into each other that we don't normally have, with me spending most of my time at school. It gave us a mirror.