Sanctum of Creation [Sanktum der Schöpfung]

Creation is never silent. It moves like a tide through the unseen, pressing against the veil of existence, demanding to take shape. Sanctum of Creation stands as an artifact of this process—a sculpture not of completion, but of emergence. Silver crystals cling to its surface like the remnants of stardust, like echoes of something vast condensing into form. The body bends back, caught between surrender and ascent, its posture whispering of the labor of becoming.

The antlers stretch in two directions—one reaching upward, seeking the infinite, the other grounding itself in the fertile darkness below. This is the paradox of creation: to rise, one must also root. The act of bringing forth is both an expansion and a descent, a journey through shadow and light, through uncertainty and revelation. And within this tension, something new is born.

Wenn aber das Himmlische nahe kommt, so beugen sich die Menschen, wie das Gras, wenn der Sturm über die Erde fährt.
But when the heavenly draws near, men bow, like the grass when the storm sweeps over the earth.
— Friedrich Hölderlin

Does creation demand suffering? Or is it the most merciful thing we can offer ourselves—to let what yearns to exist finally step into being? 

A sanctum is a place of both reverence and risk. To create is to kneel at the altar of the unknown, to allow one's hands to shape something that may yet defy its maker. And yet, this sculpture does not tremble. It leans into its becoming, silver-crystal skin shimmering with the quiet inevitability of transformation.

Is it blessing or burden to bring forth what was once unformed? This sculpture does not answer—it only invites the question. And perhaps that is the only answer creation ever gives.

Details

• Moulded with clay
• Body glazed in silver crystals
• Gold antlers
• Mounted on a soapstone base
• green and yellow flowers
• green and black ribbons
• Height: 48 cm