Tom McKendrick's
HEAVIER THAN AIR

 


The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

         From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
         And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
         Six miles from Earth, loosed from its dream of life,
         I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
         When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.         



 Randall Jarrell

I live in Clydebank, directly below the flight path for jets on their final approach to Glasgow Airport. Every few minutes' huge flying machines glide past overhead. They bleed speed, slowing to a velocity at which they can safely land, flaps hanging like great doors. They weigh as much as five hundred tons; but they fly. Airplanes are ideas. That's their genesis. Ideas weigh nothing. Da Vinci's sketches of ornithopters and parachutes never weighed more than the paper they were drawn on. But ideas implemented, ideas applied, gain weight. They become heavier than air; but they fly.

'Heavier Than Air' is sponsored by HANNAY waste management and recycling services, and the Collins Gallery, University of Strathclyde. The artist is indebted to the late Bud Meade, ex ball gunner with the USAAF for sharing his thoughts fears and experiences. Installation photographs by Daisy Dylan Watson