Sphere was born from the desire to connect with ancient values. Three artists meet in a timeless garden and their ideas merge to form a single story. Sphere is a delicate and harmonious entity. It uses visual and sensory methods to capture the philosophical and poetic perception of objects.
Art Book and Poetry
Sphere is a midday Mythology.
An ancient form drawn on Earth’s surface.
Made of stone and eternal like a temple,
live and delicate as a young girl’s palm.
Sphere is oval and hollow,
sphere can hear whisper and voice,
tides coming and snow falling on the ground.
Myrrh and incense, ancient smoke.
It is in the fruit’s seed,
in the sand,
in the hand.
It reflects the light
of a quince garden.
The world is born.
At first sound does not exist, nor does the water.
Cool expanse where everything rotates.
Thin hoops are scattered between the suns.
Milk spirals have spread out their hair beyond time.
Floating gray stones start spinning
when they are caught,
until their edges are round and they become spheres.
A string of small and big beads,
connected by the thread of eternal movement.
Dirt is quiet.
An icy wind blows around.
World knows Water,
but not the song of birds and the noise of leaves.
Spirit floats like vapor above the earth
and looks at it from above.
Each curve, each reflection is smooth and light.
Gold and bronze, copper and black,
layer after layer it covers its flesh with life.
Seeds in its cracks germinate and join hands.
The fruits are round –
in its image and likeness.
Sun shines on a white jug.
A nightingale sings on the river bank.
Round, smooth, quiet shapes
generously caress the silver fish.
Wet are the hands,
that wake up the waves.
They carry the fruits.
The fingers open the soft chambers
of the apple seeds.
It’s not whole anymore, it’s not whole
Peace turns into a sight.
Poetry runs like juice.
The face changes.
It turns into painting.
The glass magnifies and bends the point.
Point becomes life.
It wanders, drifts around,
falls down the line and runs out.
Metal body and under it –