I'd kill to see this installation in the flesh, the scale is breathtaking and I imagine walking through the 'Falling Garden' would be magical. I'm ambitiously considering creating a similar suspended sculpture made of everyday, mundane objects or perhaps eggshells and other fragile materials, hoping to create a sentimental, nostalgic mood while also commenting on the inadequacy of keepsakes as a gateway to memory and experience: what we own does not necessarily compare to who we are and I believe objects and heirlooms should play a less important role in our idea of self than they do in today's age. Also a self-reflective observation on the ability of a photograph to capture truth - a photographic print is, after all, only a record of the exterior surface of someone or something. It gives limited insight into anything below the surface, just as memorabilia can only bring back so much of a person who has died, or a memory which has faded.
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