

A serpentine column of interlocking loops rises like a spine of infinity behind the reclining figure, turning the chair into a metaphysical device rather than mere furniture. The body surrenders—limbs slack, torso arched—yet the upward rhythm of the vertical form insists on continuity, suggesting that exhaustion and ascent can occupy the same moment. Its bronzed surface, scored with tactile striations, catches light as if memory itself were weathering the metal, binding sensual vulnerability to an austere, totemic structure. In this tension between collapse and climb, the work reads as an elegy for the human threshold: where weight becomes release and time becomes a ladder.







