Miriam Di Fiore

In the Forest of Glass

When I was a child, I lived in a little city near the Atlantic Ocean in Argentina. A big pine forest was around the town, protecting it from the wind, and anchoring the sand dunes. A big part of my childhood passed among those trees. So, the forest has for me a deep and symbolic meaning. As far as I can remember, I have always loved to draw and paint trees. Since I have discovered photography, I have taken thousands of images of the forest. There is no other environment that makes me more comfortable than being amongst trees. When I am in front of a millennial olive or an old robust oak, I think about what an incredible life it has had. They have gone through so many winters and summers, always growing up, always blooming and giving shadow and protection to thousands of other creatures. They have survived what would have killed me in a very short time.

So what I try to do with my work is not an “interpretation” of the wood, but rather a simple, respectful  translation in glass of  a little part of our wonderful world where I have spent times enjoying the company of trees.

I just want to tell the persons looking at my Work how that particular place was, and how I felt there. I hope that way to share at least a part of the magic and beautiful moment that makes me feel happy to be alive. My Work is a sort of illusion of eternity. I attempt to portray virtual places and try to preserve the fragments of time that my eyes see in what is constantly changing

In framing my Work, I connect my forest landscapes with found objects: wooden items which are no longer in use, and I give them a sort of second chance. Glass and Wood are deeply bonded together: Wood, Fire, Glass. Glass could be almost eternal, but it takes only a moment of distraction to lose the piece, as happens with the trees, and with life.

The tree from which the wood came does not exist anymore, but the life it led still moves me. It belongs to fragile, beloved places, in continuous transformation but at the same time always in danger. Sacrificial items, belonging to killed trees, lost and unknown pieces of woods.

My Objects may be votive offerings, reliquaries where I save memories. At other times they are reconciliation objects, through which I want Humanity to apologize to Nature for the lack of respect and the damage we did. Nature remains the victim of our emotions, illusions, hopes and the incredibly destructive power of our indifference.

Glass is an emotional material; material without borders, that can change with the source of light or the angle from which it is viewed. In that respect, it resembles our minds, our hearts.
 

 I love glass in its wide variety and shapes
I know it, feel it and treat it with deserved respect.
It talks to me in a language that exists only in itself.

Glass and Wood are deeply bound. Wood… Fire… Glass...
Wooded landscape images created inside wood items no longer in use.
My work is an illusion of eternity.
 It is related to virtual places.
Trying to preserve what’s constantly changing
But, is this true, and what is reality?
I am not certain that my senses tell the truth if my memory is “real”

When I recreate with glass, and enclose in the glass a “real” place of our World,
I flatter myself of my ability to convey the same emotion I felt in that place
Did the place exist?  Does it still exist?

The tree from which the wood came doesn’t exist anymore
But the life it had still moves me.
Fragile, beloved places, in continuing transformation, eternal yet vulnerable

My work is an offering. It is a shrine to what we are losing
 It is about what is deeply human: emotions, illusions, hopes
It is about the incredibly destructive power of our indifference

Light passes through Glass making it without borders…
like our minds, like our hearts