Confettis

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This series explores the absurdity of ego and the fragile fantasy of permanence. Throughout history, powerful figures have recreated their own image, in stone, bronze, paint,  chasing the illusion that visibility guarantees longevity.

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Ancient Greek and Roman sculptures, now iconic in their pale stillness, were once painted in vibrant colors. Those pigments faded slowly, until time erased the original intention and left behind a cleaner, whiter myth. That whiteness was later adopted as a symbol of virtue, order, and power,  a reinterpretation that served the narratives that followed.

 

Confetti appears here as both material and idea. Originally used in ancient Greek celebrations, it wasn’t paper but bits of leaves and flowers, tossed in joy for a few seconds before falling to the ground. It’s a fleeting gesture,  euphoric, decorative, and immediately disposable.

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In these works, confetti echoes the vanishing pigments of classical sculptures. Both begin full of color, of meaning, of ceremony,  and both fade, shift, and lose their clarity with time. What remains is an empty performance of importance, slowly dissolving into something else.