Chance is when two things merge that were never meant to occupy the same space—when a line is drawn between points that seem to share no commonality. While one thing happens, another occurs, creating a meaning that eludes capture, much like our attempts to describe the world. Here, rice paper hangs in the air, and the movement of air animates the material, giving it a voice, as the artist’s sharp ink strokes flicker across the semi-transparent paper. The gallery space takes us on a journey where each step is an exploration of the unknown. The body acts as a vessel absorbing sound, while repetitive soundscapes chart the course in a fragmented or miniature world, where we seem to hold complete control. The drumbeats quicken, the strokes flash across the paper, and the bone-white porcelain proves more fragile than we assume. As we blink, a mysterious video is projected onto a white surface. The world paints itself without us knowing the source of the pigments. Symbols invert themselves. Björk Viggósdóttir is an artist who transforms space into a stage of perception. The blue and white color palette forms a recurring motif, much like the drumbeats and soundscapes that open up a prophetic sphere. We don’t merely look into it—we are inside it. We don’t observe infinity—we are infinity. Text by Vilborg Bjarkadóttir.