Two separately blown forms joined at a precise color seam — cobalt meets amber at the equator.
Drawn canes of opal white twist through a gather of deep forest green, frozen mid-breath.
Forty-eight hand-cut murrine slices fused into a single luminous plane. Each flower repeats, none identically.
One continuous take. One gather. The camera stays close enough that you can see the surface skin form — the moment the glass remembers it used to be sand.
The gather left almost as found — minimal intervention, maximum trust in the material's own gravity.
Two layers of opposing cane nets enclose a grid of air bubbles. The grid bends the light into a moiré of color.