As part of the “Welkin” cycle, the sculpture offers an allegorical reflection on night at its culmination — that liminal instant known as midnight. Midnight appears here not as a measure of time, but as a state of being. It is embodied in the image of a girl — silent, focused, immersed in her own depth.

 

Her face carries the memory of noon: lips full like warm fruit; broad wings of the nose, breathing in space and the winds of distant lands. Her hair flows around her head like the dark matter of the universe: at once a stellar crown woven of light and shadow, and an echo of the sacred headdresses of the Indigenous peoples of Africa and Asia — signs of the bond between earth and cosmos.

 

Her eyes are closed, yet this is not sleep. It is a profound inward presence — a state in which the body grows silent and consciousness dissolves. Her face is illuminated by deep inner contemplation, akin to meditation, when every muscle is relaxed, thoughts are free, and the subconscious wanders the boundless universe. The stream of dreams and fantasies is allegorically embodied in the expansive mass of hair, where myriads of stars seem to intertwine, gathering into a single image of the cosmic order.

 

The lower edge of her head touches the water — a touch weightless, yet decisive. From it, circles spread across the surface, waves of the boundless ocean of our inner world. The very world where night does not frighten, but listens. Where midnight is not the end of the day, but the point of deepest presence.