Spatial Construction No. 12

When you first look at this piece, Spatial Construction No. 12 it feels less like a heavy, solid sculpture and more like a drawing made of wood and metal floating right in front of you. Actually, wait, it is suspended, isn't it? Hanging by a tiny, almost invisible thread from the ceiling. It’s made of these nested, oval-like loops that curve beautifully around each other. The outer rings have this warm, sort of reddish-brown, earthy look to them. They loop around and around, and then as your eyes travel inward, toward the very center, the rings get smaller and change color, turning into this bright, metallic silver. It looks almost like a starburst or a weird, futuristic skeleton of a planet. Or maybe an atom, the kind you’d see in an old school textbook, but way more graceful. There’s a real sense of balance to the whole thing, but not the boring, perfectly symmetrical kind. Every single loop is angled just a little bit differently, so as it hangs there, it feels like it’s about to spin, even if it’s standing completely still in the photo. It’s amazing how something built from simple plywood, I think it’s plywood, or some light wood anyway, can look so light and airy. And then there is the shadow it throws onto the plain white wall behind. It's like a ghost version of the sculpture, a soft, blurry echo that mimics the sharp lines of the actual piece. The shadow adds this whole other layer of depth, making you realize how much space this thing actually takes up. It’s not just a flat object; it's a hollow sphere of air and lines. There's a quiet rhythm to how the silver inner stars interlock with the outer brown bands. It just sort of sits there, suspended in a moment of perfect quiet, waiting for a tiny draft of wind to make it dance. It's simple, really, but it makes you stop and just... stare for a second.