Balance isn’t found—it’s crafted: Lull
You know that perfect moment, right before everything shifts? That delicate pause, like holding your breath between what was and what’s about to happen. That’s the heartbeat of Lull. Every piece here plays with balance and tension—not as opposites, but as partners in a dance. Smooth, rounded forms rest on sharp, angular bases, as if they’ve been caught in a fleeting stillness. The tension stays—always present, never tipping into chaos. It’s a moment suspended, a subtle equilibrium where fragility becomes strength.
These forms feel like something between nature’s hand and the precision of a craftsman—both organic and architectural. The soft, pebble-like curves, placed against clean, straight edges, reflect how opposites can live together gracefully. There’s a sense of control, but it never feels rigid. Imagine it like two worlds meeting: the raw and the refined, the geometric and the flowing. And right where they connect, there’s that moment of stillness. It’s quiet, but it holds weight.
What fascinates me is the way resilience hides inside fragility. These sculptures look delicate, but they stand firm, offering a kind of silent power. That’s the beauty—real stability doesn’t need to shout. It just is. These forms invite you to pause, to linger in that rare space where tension and release coexist. Because transformation, I believe, happens in those moments of stillness—in the in-between, when everything feels like it’s about to change.
