Air

Atmosphere The atmosphere as we now know it did not exist when the Earth formed 4.5 billion years ago. Volcanism created the primordial atmosphere of the Hadean era, where there was very little oxygen. Half a billion years later, the first water appeared, followed by the earliest life. Photosynthetic organisms harnessed the energy of the Sun and enriched the atmosphere with oxygen. The first multicellular life appeared, followed by plants. Species competed and diversified, mass extinctions eliminated life forms, creating opportunities for others. Evolving with life, the composition of the atmosphere stabilised into the mix of gases familiar to us now, containing around 21 per cent oxygen. The atmosphere is layered protectively around the Earth, from the troposphere that sustains us to the exosphere: a final thinness before space and the solar winds begin. Croatian-born Dora Budor takes us back to this early history of Earth and air in her glowing trio of glass chambers Origins I–III 2019. Gazing into her work, we imagine flying over an unfamiliar, perhaps primordial landscape, or one from nightmarish times to come, when the delicate sustaining balances of life on Earth have unravelled. These undulating mounds of dust might be mountains, or the caldera of a volcano, from which small clouds of pigment periodically issue. In a landscape of vermillion, shades of ochre fall, a deep madder-like crimson overlays a fleshly pink. It is intoxicating but could also be toxic — this is not air you would want to breathe. Budor’s trio of chambers evoke Earth’s earliest days, the smog and pollution of the Industrial Revolution that inspired Joseph Mallord William Turner, and the unnerving blend of potential and fear that characterises these times of climate anxiety and societal unrest. Tomás Saraceno’s artwork encompasses extremes of both time and distance, asking viewers to imagine air as it encircles the globe, as a vast invisible highway connecting continents, and as molecules moving within our bodies and bloodstream. The silver spheres of his expansive installation Drift: A cosmic web of thermodynamic rhythms 2022 are part transparent and part reflective; some seem to move slowly, while others float in apparent stillness. They catch and refract the light, filling space and reminding us of the complex dynamics of the air we rely on. Saraceno’s series We do not all breathe the same air 2018–ongoing is created with the aid of air-pollution monitors. The full circles of lighter and darker grey fluctuate, like a chart mapping the waxing and waning Moon, as they sample the air and reveal particulate matter we subconsciously inhale. Air is very often invisible, as if an absence; a space of open potential for us to fill or fly through; a space to realise our dreams. When we measure and study it, it becomes clear how deeply air connects us, how full it is. The pandemic has reminded us that the air we breathe is dynamic and complex, containing much that we cannot see — from pollen to pathogens. We do not all breathe the same air, nor share in the same opportunities to live, grow or reach our full potential. The structure of our society allows some more air than others. Tomás Saraceno / Aerocene 2 and Aerocene 1.2 2016 (installation view, ‘163,000 Light Years’, Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Monterrey 2016) 25 24 Do we all breathe the same air? Do we all breathe the same air?