Pigmented bronze, porcelain, motorcycle parts, dried flowers
110 (L) x 41 (W) x 150 (H) cm
It always spins like this, at a uniform and high speed and accompanied by a low humming. The sound keeps spreading and accumulating as quantity starts to push it to roll. Day after day.
Little by little, the trajectory cuts the sound off, leading to two pieces of round ground.
It rolls, to the end of the ground. There’s no peers or rivals. Day after day.
Eventually the round grounds start to spin, respectively. No longer are they a symbiont. Instead, they are three pals. One day, the ground pauses, so transiently that it’s almost undetectable. Instantly, it falls into the crack of uniform time, tumbling out of the edge which seems would roll forever. Falling, down and down.
Until one day it keeps moving on in a linear manner and the gravitation pulls (draws) out the soles.
