Glass Cracks traces 148 feet of existing fractures in the cement floor of a gallery with a delicate network of hand-formed lamp-work glass tubing. By occupying these ignored infrastructural details with a material synonymous with fragility, the installation recalibrates how viewers move through space. Floors and cracks are usually passed over without attention, but here, their activation with glass draws the body into conscious awareness. The threat of breaking, the implied risk in every step (assuming the viewer even notices the work in the first place), transforms routine motion into somatic engagement. This quiet intervention turns the substrate of the gallery into a behavioral interface, where the ordinary act of walking becomes a choreography of careful attention. 

I insisted on being present during all hours of the exhibition so I could observe every interaction. Over the course of a month, all but two visitors stepped onto and broke sections of the glass. The only two who didn’t were a toddler and a former Naval Special Warfare Platoon Commander, two people moving with an awareness that seemed already present. Everyone else missed the work until it was already in pieces underfoot.