Staura is a column that has forgotten its supporting function
to become gesture, breath, waiting.

The shape bends slowly, as if the matter had decided to listen to time.
There is no tension or momentum: just a continuous curve that holds the movement
at the exact point where it might vanish.

The marble, once dug and polished, loses the weight of its geological origin
and turns into a light-sensitive surface.
Every light variation modifies its body,
bringing out a presence that is never the same.

Staura does not occupy space: it measures it.
It does not ask to be observed frontally,
but crossed with the gaze, turned, approached slowly.
It is a sculpture that exists in the time of observation,
not in the instant of looking.

There is no symbol or representation in it.
There is a controlled suspension,
a verticality that renounces affirmation
to find silence in balance.

Staura is a form that remains.
Not because it imposes,
but because it guards.