The mighty pairs of columns that march through Boston Manor Park have gained some strange additions. With hundreds of mirrors of all types and sizes, found at tips, junk yards and flea markets, the columns of the overpass are dressed in sequins. The mirrors liberate the forgotten space; domestic artefacts out of context which implore the viewer to acknowledge their part in the life of the city. From a distance they call with glints and sparkles through the strange landscape.

Some of the mirrors are old, some new, some broken, some peeling, but all are everyday things, the residue of hundreds of small prayers to vanity, life and hope. Within the sequins is hidden a pattern. Some of the mirrors are angled in specific ways, and when a blue laser beam is fired at the correct panel, an entire canopy of light is formed under the carriageway; A series of spaces described in a single beam of light, bouncing instantly from mirror to mirror, to create a new myth, a city of light for a weightless age.

This is an echo of a future place, destined to stand here in times to come, a place where rooms, corridors, elevators and roads are no longer made from slow, static, analogue components. One day our houses will be built purely of light.

music by KUMO

All Life on earth can be described in the play between gravity and light. In their complex dance they have given us shape, energy, experience, dreams. Gravity, the mother force which binds us to the earth; and Light, the profound revelator at the core of the universe, illuminating and travelling the pathway to the stars.

Traditionally, buildings in the real world have been held in thrall to gravity, constructed like our bodies to withstand its effects. In an imagined future, when gravity no longer binds us so, we ask what spaces would we construct for ourselves; how might we shape light to describe humankind, and humankinds’ home?

Walktheline is part of a series of projects which explore this notion of using light as a building material. Together with this the artwork asks questions of what makes a city; the viewer, confronted by their own image is invited to reflect on them self in the context of a city and planet of many others. Framed by the quiet sadness of the unwanted mirrors - discarded hymns to vanity and all the hopes and stories once reflected back from them – the viewer may consider how time and humanity endure, but a single human body cannot.

Beneath the M4 flyover at Boston Manor park the emptiness of these cathedral-like spaces longs to be filled. Using a series of interventions it is hoped that this leftover, unimagined place at the strange conjunction of parkland and concrete can be recovered and reconnected with the city and its people.