Leifur Breiðfjörð’s Messenger of Fortune (2002) is somewhat traditional stained glass.
However, instead of the nearly two-dimensional vertical window form that you would expect, this three-dimensional piece hangs from the ceiling in a horizontal orientation and has the shape of a kite with wings and tail. Even though it is an illusion, there is no gravity at all related to this glass. The kite is light and airy, held up by the wind; you can almost sense the glass has transformed into a curved fabric for wings and tail.
The playfulness of this work (its function is art, not to be a window) comments on the traditional use of stained glass windows in churches – including unspoken rules: no running and no loud sounds in a church – opposed both running and loud sounds obviously connected with playing with kites.

A more direct illusion is found in an untitled work from 2009 by Hreinn Fridfrinnsson currently on view at i8 Gallery, Reykjavik. This work plays with space, too. While three-dimensional, this sculpture is very two-dimensional since most of the three-dimensionality is illusion. The work itself is made of one quarter of a glass vase and – importantly for this illusionistic piece – mirrors (steel plates). By using the transparency of glass with the reflectivity of mirrors, the viewer can never quite grasp the object or its deception. This sculpture has presence in space but what we see is not there. It is virtual. There is actual space and illusionary space. However, we cannot translate views of this object into something that is real unless we accept being in the virtual world. Somehow we must accept that we cannot understand reality as it is presented.

Another way of using functional glass – wine glasses here – is found in Finnbogi Pétursson’s work Glasses (2004) at Gallery 100°, Reykjavik. Ninety wine glasses are placed on three vibrating shelves. The vibrations are programmed and produce sound through the glasses which are filled with different amounts of water. As time passes, the water vaporizes, and the pitch changes. The repetitious character of the sounds is underlined by the three shelves. Interestingly, there are two different dimensions of time: a repetitious sound time line controlled by computer that is similar to musical notes. And a time line which is a condition for all life. At some point, there will be no more water in the glasses, and therefore no more sound. Time is running out; all variable sounds stop.

If man needs separation from nature or it is the other way around is a question emphasized in many of Rúrí’s work. Glass Rain (1984, but still exhibited) provides a different view on the concept of rain. From a distance, we find a somehow similar spatial effect in this pattern of rain. However, looking with more care, we see something else.
Five hundred dagger-shaped pieces of razor-sharp glass hang from the ceiling. Each piece is between 50 cm and 150 cm long while the installation’s total dimensions are 6 x 7 x 3 meters.
The path through the hanging pieces is not obvious at first or even upon entering the space. There is a turn in the middle of the installation that allows people to explore this path before coming to see that a way out exists at the other end. Walking between the literally dangerous pieces without being able to see the whole path is challenging but ultimately rewarding.
Rain usually brings the possibility of life but this glass rain can kill! This scary fact is in high contrast to the beauty of the work in all its fragility and transparency.
Rúrí wanted the viewer to feel the space without touching it, in a somehow unconscious spatial awareness of both the physical, emotional and intellectual level.