The Collection

LUNA

A moon is not an object. It is a duration.

Seven hours of one night, each one holding the same light differently.

Em ber

21:00 01 / 07

The sun is gone but the horizon still remembers it.
Orange coal, straight off a seventies wallpaper.

The day's last heat, still in the room.

22:00 02 / 07

The moon at its most saturated.
The lamp is on, the room has turned yellow, nobody is going anywhere.

Full, and in no hurry.

00:00 03 / 07

The floor of the night.
A black stand returns no light at all, so the sphere reads as suspended in nothing.

What holds the light gives none back.

01:00 04 / 07

The deepest hour.
A cold stand under a warm sphere — Luna at its most divided.

Cold hand, warm light.

03:00 05 / 07

The middle of sleep.
Rose quartz sits close to skin — soft enough for the room you sleep in.

The hour that does not wake you.

05:00 06 / 07

Just before dawn.
An earth tone, flat enough to push the light forward. The ground is awake; the sky is not.

The ground wakes first.

06:00 07 / 07

The moment the moon goes out.
The stand is almost the colour of the paper — it disappears, and only the light is left.

It fades, and only light is left.