We see geometry in the brightly studded night sky and we cannot help but trace – with the eye or the finger – imaginary lines that connect the field of dots into shapes and patterns. Somewhere up there is a sign or a symbol, a man or a beast, a wine glass or maybe someone’s big feet. We learn to recognise and make sense of the visual chaos that is the night sky. Then we think up names for them.
We find geometry harnessed to a side of a wall. And we cannot help but trace – with thin black lines of steel – a filigree web of triangles that weaves in and out to catch and precariously prop up three horizontal gangway planks where their points meet. Somewhere in there sits a stellar cast of prized objects; a relic from another time, a family of porcelain men and beasts. We begin to recognise and make sense of the visual chaos. And then we think of a name for it.