MESSE DES GLACES | Fafchamps

“I fall / I fall / I fall to my knees and worship the eternal music.”
— Guðrún Eva Mínervudóttir, Ad Genoa

Polar landscapes are made of mass and light—of low rumbles, thunderous crashes, and vast silences. In such a place, human beings are only temporary survivors. What stands between us and the infinite? The fragile thread of our voices, trembling as they try to anchor us to eternity. Like water, they can be solid, fluid, or fleeting, as in Hillborg’s Mouyayoum.

For Messe des Glaces, Jean-Luc Fafchamps drew inspiration from accounts of polar expeditions. The choir and soprano evoke endless plains of dazzling white, where bears and walruses roam. The trombones, meanwhile, conjure the chaos and infernal groaning of immense masses of ice, drifting apart like crumbling cathedrals.

Music may be eternal, but we are not. And neither, for much longer, will be the ice.