Plug: At the threshold between the entrance and the living space, a mirrored sculpture complements the architecture as if it were piercing the wall from another dimension. Chromed, reflective, almost liquid, its surface distorts the surroundings—returning fragmented images of the visitor, the furniture, the light. It is an organic body made from a material that feels radically artificial. A living contradiction.

The piece speaks of compression and expansion. It narrows at certain points, as if squeezed by the invisible forces of architectural space, then releases itself into voluptuous forms that seem inflated with air—or data. The sculpture feels like a frozen breath.

Its form evokes marine organisms, neurons, lava flows, but also cables, screens, and networks. It is an ambiguous creature: it appears alive, yet its skin is metallic; it feels technological, yet its geometry is wild.

Through the repetition of patterns and undulations, the work alludes to the evolutionary logic of nature—mutation, replication, adaptation. At the same time, it points to digital hyperconnectivity, where everything mirrors something else, where every gesture, every piece of data, every face can be endlessly duplicated.

Suspended between the biological and the cybernetic, the sculpture poses a fundamental question: what is considered natural today? Where does the artificial begin?

By piercing the wall, the piece connects two worlds within the house and, symbolically, two modes of existence: one intimate and tactile, the other projected and reflective. It is a presence that cannot be ignored—a sensory threshold, a luminous wound that invites us to reconsider our relationship with matter, image, and time.