Our tools are our references.
Our references are our obsessions.
As hedonistic adventurers, we could only work through those – our obsessions are the only burden that we carry around.
We haunt for patterns which are forged by the anatomy of pleasure, forms shaped through irreverent gestures and everything that speaks of an erotic language.
We wallow in foam, asking blacksmiths to fabricate creamy glaze.
Fond of tactile smells, we confused the carver with a mysterious mixologist.
We love to objectify – to transform ideas literally and wildly into an apparatus of built dreams. Our working table is a potluck between production and consumption – front and back – depression and euphoria.
In how many ways you can use a pair of boobs?