Stones have something eternal, immutable about them. A temporariness that has nothing to do with us. Although after I touched the sandstone, I must admit that I was left with sand on my fingers. Something about it stayed in me, revealing its fragility as well. It was then that I decided to transform that stone into sand. I used the mallet for sculpting which I hadn’t used for years. It is very beautiful when a stone fragments.

The pieces get increasingly smaller until they turn into dust. I sifted them with a wire mesh until I obtained the pureness of beautiful sand, which looked like earth powder.

This tactile and visual relationship with the stone got me thinking about the strata beneath our feet, on which your house stands too. In particular, about what happened to the world before we arrived, and, especially, what has been deposited in each of us after the experience of life. Strato has something geological, but also something epidermal and vital.

Given its material nature, this piece is not only an object but also an experience. It will continue to change color when it comes into contact with the air. Silver will acquire the color of the stone. In a creative, non-human uncontrolled act.

Silver is the soul that ages and is embellished with the passage of time, which mutates its color, longing to reach the eternity of the stone.

Strato had always been there, on the back of an old mirror; in the memory of the silver mirrors that hang in the Spiegelsaal (Hall of Mirrors) of Berlin, which still have the marks of bullets from the war on them.