Luzinterruptus

For some time now, we have been developing a body of work focused on the human body and its relationship with public space.

Can you imagine hands and legs giving us directions on how to move through the city?

“Human Signage” is an ongoing series composed of large-scale body fragments — legs, hands and arms — made from white translucent fabrics that move with the wind and are illuminated from within with cold light.

The pieces occupy spaces normally reserved for signs, beacons and guidance devices, using the same infrastructures and fixing systems commonly found along roads and urban edges. But instead of transmitting instructions, warnings or commercial messages, they introduce an unexpected human presence into the landscape.

We are interested in transforming places designed to regulate, control and direct our movements into small scenes of light that invite curiosity, reflection and imagination.

Luzinterruptus

We’ve just uploaded On Blank Pages in Brixen to our website.

Presented at the Water Light Festival under the theme Imagine Peace, the installation was located in the Cathedral Square, in front of Brixen Cathedral. The piece consisted of a large circular wall of illuminated blank pages measuring 12 metres in diameter, which gradually transformed into a growing collage of messages, drawings and reflections left by visitors over seventeen days.

The installation was active both day and night throughout the festival, attracting a constant flow of visitors. Over the seventeen days, thousands of people stopped by to write, draw and share their thoughts, turning the blank pages into a collective space for expression and reflection. The atmosphere changed from morning to evening, but participation never stopped, and the piece continued to grow with every contribution.

As always, the wind, the writing and the participation of hundreds of people helped shape the piece day after day.

You can now see the full project here:
👉 https://www.luzinterruptus.com/?p=25178

Thank you all for being part of it.

With Bad Bunny in Madrid, we thought it was a good moment to revisit Watching the Chaos.

Not because of the concerts themselves, but because of a curious coincidence: both Bad Bunny and ourselves have found something worth looking at in the humble white Monobloc chair.

The chair that features so prominently in his recent visual universe is the same object that has occupied our thoughts for years.

The difference lies in the journey. In his universe, the chair travels through one set of stories and images. In ours, it repeatedly appears in photographs of wars, floods, fires, storms and other disasters, often remaining as a silent witness to chaos.

That object is the Monobloc Chair. White, plastic, stackable and universal. Found almost everywhere, it moves effortlessly between everyday life and extraordinary circumstances.

With these chairs, we imagined an illuminated sculpture with no fixed shape, changing from site to site: sometimes stretching along a street as if dragged by a current; other times rising in a square like an impossible balance frozen just after impact. And in front of it, the opposite: perfectly aligned rows of identical chairs for the public to sit and look.

An orderly place from which to face disorder.

We’ll dance to the music celebrating the chaos because, while everything collapses around us, there will always be a Monobloc chair to sit on and look good in the picture.

Luzinterruptus

We continue reviewing projects we are eager to bring to life while working on the images from our latest piece in Brixen.

When There Are No Leaves Left presents a seemingly simple scene: a leafless tree protected by an illuminated translucent structure, inside which thousands of leaves endlessly swirl, driven by artificial fans.

The piece reflects on our growing inability to coexist with natural rhythms and to accept disappearance, emptiness or decay. Faced with a tree that can no longer produce leaves, we construct a technical system capable of maintaining a false impression of life, movement and abundance.

The leaves no longer fall because of real wind or seasonal change; instead, they move through a permanent and controlled artificial mechanism. Nature is replaced by a continuous simulation designed to avoid silence, stillness or the uncomfortable image of a dying tree.

The installation also reflects on the way we increasingly transform nature into scenery: something that must remain constantly active, attractive and visually consumable. Even the memory of the original tree ultimately becomes a luminous spectacle.

The leaves used in the installation can be real ones collected from the tree itself, or leaves drawn on paper by local residents and visitors, incorporating a collective and participatory dimension into the work.
https://www.luzinterruptus.com/?page_id=18870

We already have a new project online.

Caressing Zone is an immersive light installation made up of hundreds of translucent arms and hands suspended above the audience, moving slowly with the wind and softly brushing against those who walk through the space.

With this piece we want to introduce into public space a gesture normally reserved for intimacy: the caress. The installation reflects on softness, care, physical contact, and the presence of bodies inside cities often shaped by hardness, speed, and control.

The arms are made from translucent fabrics similar to white women’s stockings, illuminated from within by a soft cold light and constantly activated by air, movement, and the interaction of visitors.

At a time like this, filling public space with gestures of care and caresses almost starts to feel like a subversive act.

You can read the full project text now on our website.

We already have a new project online.

Caressing Zone is an immersive light installation made up of hundreds of translucent arms and hands suspended above the audience, moving slowly with the wind and softly brushing against those who walk through the space.

With this piece we want to introduce into public space a gesture normally reserved for intimacy: the caress. The installation reflects on softness, care, physical contact, and the presence of bodies inside cities often shaped by hardness, speed, and control.

The arms are made from translucent fabrics similar to white women’s stockings, illuminated from within by a soft cold light and constantly activated by air, movement, and the interaction of visitors.

At a time like this, filling public space with gestures of care and caresses almost starts to feel like a subversive act.

You can read the full project text now on our website.