In his latest work, Yorkshire poet Simon Armitage has taken the healing power of words a bit literally. Put on display outside of the University of Sheffield in England, Armitage’s “In Praise of Air” actually scrubs oxygen pollutants from the air, purifying it.
“In Praise of Air” is printed on a 10m by 20m—or around 30ft by 60ft, for those of us in the good old USA—square of material, which l is coated with a microscopic layer of pollution-eating titanium dioxide particles. These particles then react with sunlight and oxygen in order to scrub nitrogen oxide pollutants from the air. The technology is similar to that in Catalytic Clothing designs.
Created through collaboration with Sheffield scientists, Armitage’s poem will reportedly be able to “eradicate the nitrogen oxide pollution created by about 20 cars every day,” according to Sheffield University poetry professor Tony Ryan.
“If every banner, flag or advertising poster in the country did this, we'd have much better air quality,” he added. “The countless thousands of poster sites that are selling us cars beside our roads could be cleaning up emissions at the same time.”
Adding the technology in Sheffield’s material to other posters and signs would be relatively cheap, adding less than $170 to the cost of putting up each individual sign. The poem will be on display outside of the university’s Alfred Denny Building, Western Bank, for one year, where it will hopefully reduce the air pollution in the fairly congested city.
You can find Simon Armitage’s works here. “In Praise of Air” is in full below:
In Praise of Air by Simon Armitage
I write in praise of air. I was six or five
when a conjurer opened my knotted fist
and I held in my palm the whole of the sky.
I've carried it with me ever since.
Let air be a major god, its being
and touch, its breast-milk always tilted
to the lips. Both dragonfly and Boeing
dangle in its see-through nothingness…
Among the jumbled bric-a-brac I keep
a padlocked treasure-chest of empty space,
and on days when thoughts are fuddled with smog
or civilization crosses the street
with a white handkerchief over its mouth
and cars blow kisses to our lips from theirs
I turn the key, throw back the lid, breathe deep.
My first word, everyone's first word, was air.
Source the Guardian, Discovery
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