Pneuma reflects on the sacredness of the present moment, on the mystery of inner transformation, and on the soul’s capacity to evolve despite the fleeting nature of time.
The work suggests that even within impermanence there is an ongoing search for balance and meaning.
The hourglass, filled with white sage ash, becomes the symbol of a cycle that renews itself. The ash—subtle, fragile—evokes a life interrupted, yet not erased; a presence that continues in another form. Here, ash becomes the metaphor of an existence that did not have time to unfold completely, and yet leaves a deep imprint—like a breath that does not fade, but transforms.
The geometric base in satin aluminum, composed of interwoven triangles, represents a force that sustains without confining the essence of life as it flows.
Pneuma is an object that fits naturally within the hands, as if holding a small universe: time, memory, and ash contained within a transparent sphere—delicate, yet tangible.
A sacred time that can be touched and turned, not to measure it, but to contemplate it.
The poem accompanying the work becomes the guardian of that sacred silence, amplifying the intensity of the breath that moves through every moment, every gesture of transformation.

Pneuma

I touched time —
the one that runs,
the one that remains.

I breathed the silence,
the kind that settles where emptiness burns.

I felt the weightless weight of a soul,
its measure within nothingness.

And there,
where it seemed to end,
everything began.

I embraced it —
not to hold,
just to let it flow.

What is it that keeps the world together?
Perhaps
a breath.

Boxed Constellations are an intimate, portable evolution of a research project begun in 2010.
Where site-specific installations let the celestial vault expand into architectural space, here the sky is gathered, preserved, and compressed.
Each box holds a star map made of hundreds of matches: a fragile, possible sky contained within a finite space.
The gesture is no longer one of traversal, but of conservation.
One does not enter the sky; one observes it closely through a peephole, in a private, silent act that emphasizes secrecy and intimacy.
The box becomes both a microcosm and an optical device.
The constellations inside can be projected, “amplified,” giving the sky an expanded spatial dimension.
The viewer may choose to linger in this quiet contemplation or reconstruct their own celestial vault in the surrounding space.
Here, the work returns to its original form: a fragile architecture of matches mapping the sky in relation to a specific place and time.
It moves between compression and expansion, archive and apparition, potentiality and activation.
The match remains the minimal measure of fire and time: each star an unlit possibility, each constellation a precarious balance between existence and disappearance.
The sky is not presented as an absolute datum, but as a personal map, where the distance between the physical and the metaphysical collapses into direct experience.