As if traversing the glacier front I punch holes on the music box card at the moments where the ice has cracked and shifted leaving records of its transformation.
I don't know how to tell you what it's like to be in front of a glacier - to be in front of the result of years of events that have taken place and resulted in a form that is so perfect, so stoic, so seemingly still in its continuous movements - So instead I try to translate what I have seen into something you may feel. something that lets your imagination meander.
Is this what the glacier sounds like?
How different is each glaciers song from one, day, year or decade to the next?
The same continuous rotating action I make with my hand to unravel the wool from my neck I make to turn the mechanism on the music box. As the human movement winds the cog, the printed glacier travels through the music box, and the small metal comb plucks the holes that have been punched. The note sounds. Once it has passed through however, it is gone. There is no reverse. The card of the printed glacier disappearing out the other side of the machine. The running through the music box is an act of consuming.
