Fire, metal and time are the three elements without which the birth of bronze is impossible.

Every time the smelting begins, I feel the ancient power of this craft, dating back thousands of years.

It's not just a technology, it's a dialogue with the basics.

Molten bronze is the sun in human hands.

It's thick, lively, and sings when it's bottled.

The temperature is about 1100 degrees, and at this moment it seems that the air itself is filled with energy.

Casting requires precision and trust: the slightest mistake and everything will collapse.

When bronze is poured into a mold, it makes a noise, vibrates, as if it is breathing.

After cooling, the shell breaks, and a sculpture appears inside — new, heavy, imperfect, but already eternal.

Every time, it's a moment of recognition, like meeting someone you've known for a long time but saw for the first time.

Then the stripping, welding and grinding begins.

An exquisite shape gradually grows out of the rough metal.

It becomes similar to the one that was once plasticine, but now has a different - almost spiritual — weight.

The assembly follows: connecting the parts, searching for integrity, returning to harmony.

Bronze is a form that has passed through fire,

and therefore has become eternal.