‘The Silent Library’ evokes an entirely monochrome white, sculpted library. You can enter it and look around. The shelves are filled with literally unreadable books interspersed with small collectibles and abandoned objects. This is an interior of the kind that proclaims prestige.
The library is occupied by several life-sized sculpted figures in more or less classical poses – a reclining female figure and two children who are standing, all with their eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought. Their clothes are contemporary – not that they’re wearing much: jeans, shorts, swimming trunks. For the rest, they’re nude. The reclining lady has a pack of cigarettes and a mobile phone within easy reach; the boy has a handful of blackberries, possibly just picked; and the girl is playing cat’s cradle with a loop of string.
There are also sculpted tables covered with long draped tablecloths in the library. They hold still lifes composed of everyday objects and plants. Other sculpted objects, including a skull, a stuffed peacock, and candles, allude to the classic components of the vanitas tradition.
The complete absence of colour makes this private library of a fictional owner an unreal, insubstantial and almost intangible apparition.