They lie, float, hang. Hanging: they disarticulate space. They pierce darkness and make light. They illuminate. They sprout unalike always from the same materials. Metal. Ceramic. Precious crystal. Gold and silver leaf. Wood. Fabric. Under continuous variation.
Metallic coils that challenge the force of gravity. Threadlike tentacles that insinuate instants of light into the darkness. Like silkworms they swing from above creating halos. And light it is. Diffused, imploded, withheld at the tips of longitudinal shapes, grazing the wall, exploded. We are talking about multi-shaped creatures designed to illuminate, to work autonomously the spaces that receive them. They vibrate in the emptiness which they do not fill. They are in space to electrify it. They do what they feel like doing. They are lamps. Fetish lamps. A rainfall of diamonds, a slender crystal weave, webs. Buoyant lampshades. Drops of precious metal. Virtually wearable: bijoux.
Resonant names, onomatopoeias. Touches of sound in space. They light up to then go out and, nevertheless, exist.
