Stand in front of the same building at eight in the morning and at six in the evening and you’d swear something moved. The light rakes across it differently, the shadows fall somewhere else, the wall that felt cold before now gives heat. The structure hasn’t shifted a millimeter. Your experience of it has changed completely.

Strata takes that daily drift and gives it a tangible shape. Temperature, light, and how both shift around the building’s own geometry are recorded from sunrise to sunset and translated into hundreds of individual layers, stacked one on top of the next like sediment. The base of each sculpture corresponds to dawn. The top, to dusk. Every layer in between marks a moment, nudged slightly out of shape by whatever the building was going through right then.

No single layer differs dramatically from the one before it. Stacked together, they read like something eroded slowly by weather, compressed from a single day instead of a few thousand years.

The layers aren’t fixed in place. Each sculpture can be twisted, reconfigured, read as a different shape. The data underneath never changes, neither do the individual layers. But the shape they produce together does, depending on how you choose to turn them. The same building, the same day, the same sculpture, yet a different feeling every time someone touches it.