Mending Icarus’ Wing: The Poetics of Descent

Abstract

There is only one wing, but it is big enough for a person to curl up inside it. Or, to be covered by it (Fig. 1). Each handmade, paper feather shows the edge of a word: sanctum, apotheosis, hope. I made this wing, with the mythological tale of a father and his child — Daedalus and Icarus — in mind. Daedalus, the first architect of ancient Athens, built a labyrinth on the island of Crete for King Minos, to conceal the evidence of the Queen’s infidelity. The King would not permit Daedalus and his son, Icarus, to leave the island home of this cryptic creation. So the architect became an aviator and constructed wings from feathers and branches, held together with wax. Planning to end his exile, Daedalus speaks,

“Though he may block escape by land and water,” he said, “yet the sky is open, and by that way will I go. Though Minos rules over all, he does not rule the air.” So saying, he sets his mind at work upon unknown arts, and changes the laws of nature. For he lays feathers in order... Then he fastened the feathers together with twine and wax ... and, thus arranged, he bent them with a gentle curve, so that they looked like real birds’ wings.¹