Perhaps the greatest discovery of my time in Berlin was the sound of an iceberg. A series of sounds, really: the soft tap of two sheets colliding; the scrape as they part again; the long, slow creak when one iceberg becomes two, or when two that had collided and collapsed upon one another finally separate once more.
Just at the bridge that connected Kreuzberg (where we were staying), to the long, barren stretch of land that flanks the Berlin wall, a riverbed of icebergs - a broken veneer, black veins between the white ice. And as we watched, a recognition of the sound of ice, its whispers, its moans.
Here, some stills; I wish I had had a way to record the sound.
I just came across the artist Pietr Uklanski yesterday, these beautiful mixed-media works created from pencil shavings. I don't know if he considers these works mosaic, but they have so many of the fundamental elements: the act of destruction (the breaking of glass or stone or, here, the shaving of the pencil) enabling the act of creation, the smaller pieces coming together to form a whole. I love how delicate the whole thing is. See more of his work at Gallerie Perrotin.