Infinito

Glass ceases to be a static plane to become an ascending body that permanently negotiates with light. Raised upon a rectangular base stippled with microbubbles, the structure unfolds in a succession of transparent planes that curve and overlap, multiplying internal reflections as they gain height.

This layering does not saturate the space, but rather densifies the matter. Where the sheets converge, optical thickness creates a milky, almost mineral core that holds the gaze before dispersing it toward the upper extremities. At the crown, the glass branches out into dozens of free tips that fan open like organic tendrils or the frozen splash of a dispersing fluid. An evident counterpoint arises between the technical rigidity inherent in kiln glass and the sensation of botanical flexibility conveyed by the sinuous contours.

Incalculable air inclusions trapped inside each pane function like a cellular cartography. When exposed to frontal or overhead light, these suspended particles catch pinpoint glimmers that contrast with the polished, crisp edges of the contours. Three-dimensionality relies not on opaque mass, but on overlapping silhouettes: the eye travels across the sculpture attempting to decipher where one layer ends and the next begins, disoriented by continuous refractions that shift with the viewer's movement.

Rather than exhausting itself in an overt reference to a tree trunk or a geological surge, the sculpture proposes a meditation on the permanence of the weightless. By fixing the momentum of a flame or an upward jet in a cold, brittle medium, the central tension rests within that paradox: the luminous petrification of an impulse that seems to keep surging.