Imponderabilium is a large-scale sculpture made entirely from twist balloons - the kind usually shaped into animals at children’s parties. Inflated into a sphere nearly two meters wide and suspended from the ceiling, it turns slowly, like a bright, celestial body in outer space. Its calm rotation contrasts with its fragile material, which guarantees that over time, the vibrant surface will gradually softens and shrivel up. Over days and weeks, this grand, buoyant form deflates, its radiant rainbow-colored surface dulls and sags when it ever so gently implodes on itself.

Time is a performative part of the piece itself. The spinning globe is both celebration and memento mori, a theatre of death, a dance macabre where joy and absurdity are bound to decay. Its impressive size gives it an air of grandeur, yet its decline is inevitable and tender, underscoring how closely beauty and loss are linked.

What remains after the collapse are deflated fragments, pinned to the wall like relics of a ritual - bright, visceral, and strangely organic, resembling entrails more than party leftovers. This transformation pushes the playful toward something slightly more unsettling, where innocence carries a trace of fleeting childhood and onwards to the inevitable.

The experience unfolds as both a spectacle and meditation, stretching the everyday into the absurd until it breaks open into meaning - an volatile cosmos made of air, colour, and time, reminding us that even joy is bound to change and fade.