A glass bubble has helped Robyn Thomas reflect on her transition from doctor to cancer patient.

She has spent more than 20 years walking briskly along corridors and attending to patients as a palliative care specialist doctor at the Royal Hobart Hospital.

Following her first chemotherapy session, she found herself "exhausted" walking from one end of the hospital to the other.

"I thought, 'gosh, this is a really long corridor!'"

As she was leaving the hospital, she saw Keith Dougall in the lobby, surrounded by "huge glass vessels."

She thought "that's more interesting than what's normally in the foyer," and ended up donating her breath to an innovative community project.

She is one of up to 350 different people who have blown through a straw to have a lungful of their air stoppered in a series of glass vessels.

A young helper, Isabella Dougall, donates her breath into one of the glass bubbles. ( Supplied: Keith Dougall )

The artwork was commissioned by the Tasmanian Government Art Site Scheme as part of the 689 million dollar Royal Hobart Hospital Redevelopment.

'Something happens' in a moment of pause

Breath as a theme is clearly a central concern for an institution like a hospital.

In her clinical work, Robyn sees the "completely unconscious" process of breathing as "a really acute focus — like when we're being born, you want to baby to take its first breath and scream."

That's the moment that "everybody holds their breath for".

On the opposite end, there's "so much focus on when a person might take their last breath. That's so symbolic of the time of death," Robyn says.

Robyn's current experience of vulnerability has given her a new perspective on what her patients go through.

"As staff, we can always try and imagine what our patients would want or what their needs would be. But until you've actually lived it, you lack a full understanding."

Keith's "catching your breath" artwork will feature the glass bubbles hanging in groups from the ceiling of the hospital's new reception area.

The glass bubbles each have their own shape, size and personality. ( Supplied: Keith Dougall )

He describes the themes of his work as being focused on "collective human existence, individuality, fragility and resilience".

Keith is based in the Poatina artists community in Tasmania, run by Fusion Australia, a not-for-profit Christian youth and community organisation.

His aim for the project was to create an "uplifting and positively distracting" feature that would "give people a sense of encouragement and hope".

Keith's eight year old daughter, Eva, has a rare brain condition known as Landau Kleffner Syndrome.

Over the past several years the family has had regular visits to the Royal Hobart Hospital.

Keith knows first hand the need for art and beauty that "bring life to what can be such a challenging journey".

Before someone donates their breath, they can find a sphere that speaks to them — he encourages people to "let one choose you".

Keith Dougall has made hundreds of glass bubbles for the installation ( Supplied: Keith Dougall )

Keith says people form a special connection to their bubble, "holding it like a baby" — though they're "quite surprised by how heavy it is"

The artwork is fragile, but also "resilient and strong," providing comfort to patients, their visitors and staff at the hospital.

Keith makes the bubbles using a furnace and 130 kilograms of molten glass at his studio in Poatina, South-West of Launceston, before he brings them to the hospital.

Then participants blow through a paper straw into the middle of the bubble, which is then closed with a stopper.

And then "something happens — you can tell that they feel it, it's like there's a moment of pause," says Keith.

"It transforms from an empty piece of glass to being a container of something precious."

Last breath a 'very final thing'

Art teacher Alice Bowman-Shaw saw Keith's set up by chance when visiting her mother, Katherine Donnelly, who is in hospital after a series of falls — she has a broken rib and other health issues.

Alice says she was "really frazzled" running to the hospital every day to visit her mum, while juggling work and parenting duties.

Alice Bowman-Shaw with her mother, Katherine Donnelly. ( Supplied: Alice Bowman-Shaw )

She says the project gave her "an opportunity to sit and just take a breath."

Alice immediately saw a parallel between the project and her mum's "really compromised breathing".

Reflecting on breath, life and death prompted memories of Alice's Catholic upbringing — she says she was exposed to "the whole life cycle, the life-death situation" from a young age.

This early exposure helped her in 2015 when her father, former ABC cameraman Peter Donnelly, died.

He had a heart condition and Alice had the privilege of being with him at the end.

"That last breath was a very final thing," she says, describing how she held his hand.

"I went, 'Wow, he's gone now.'"

Though the artwork doesn't have a strictly religious framework, it has a sense of spirituality.

While he doesn't "set out to create work that is Christian", Keith's faith acts a guide in his life and helps him judge the impact of his art on the community.

Keith says it's a privilege to sit with someone while they donate their breath, "the symbol of their own human spirit," and to allow them "that moment to value the life that they've got".

"They are sitting there quietly, loving themselves in that moment, and I'm doing my very best to love them as well, even though I've just met them."