Named for the mythic strait where Helle slipped from the sky, Hellspont is a basin caught mid-breach — fractured, uneven, topographic. It is not smooth. It does not resolve. Instead, it holds the energy of movement interrupted, like a current turning solid.

The piece reads like a tectonic model or sacrificial altar: spiked, cracked, and collapsed inward. It isn’t placed — it’s embedded. A cavity of memory, event, and architecture.

Made in composite stone, Hellspont retains the surface of its own formation: peaks worn by erosion, voids held open. It is an object named by falling — a topography of tension rendered permanent.