Violín MoradoSold

The smooth, curved skin of a ripe eggplant assumes the anatomy of a string instrument in a tactile, disquieting metamorphosis. In this resin sculpture, Alexy Palenzuela superimposes two disparate visual orders: fleshy, perishable botanical nature against the calculated architecture of classical lutherie. The vitreous finish, with a sheen akin to industrial enamel or workshop lacquer, allows light to slide cleanly across the deep purple belly, doubling the surroundings in sharp reflections that accentuate the voluptuous roundness of the volume.

At the upper third lies the knot of greatest sculptural tension. The botanical calyx dissolves into a viscous substance, reminiscent of molten caramel or amber-orange resin trickling in sinuous tongues over the violet body. From this elastic neck springs the pegbox, crowned by a twisted scroll that defies the traditional symmetry of musical carving. Black pegs pierce horizontally through the shaft with sharp rigidity, introducing an axis that counters the sinuous ascent and endows the whole with a contained gravity. Toward the base, a stylized tailpiece in jet black functions as a visual anchor, underscoring the instrumental condition of a form that shuns practical utility.

The intersection between both elements activates an interpretation closely aligned with surrealist absurdity and the irony of the found object. Palenzuela displaces the violin from its customary solemnity to graft it into the fertile, domestic territory of the orchard, evoking a strange synesthesia between the density of the fruit and acoustic suggestion. Deprived of strings and sound holes, the volume remains sealed, turned into a silent object that compensates for its muteness with a potent charge of tactile sensuality, forever trapped halfway between organic growth and manufactured craft.