Project
Nothing to declare
Before every journey, there’s a moment when we leave something behind. At airports, it’s the ritual of passing through gates, security lanes, and green corridors — shedding objects that won’t follow us to our destination. But what if paradise worked the same way? What if, before stepping into a place of pure light, you had to pass through your final checkpoint, leaving behind not just your possessions, but your earthly attachments?
Placed humbly beneath the sign, it waits open-mouthed, ready to swallow the last echoes of the outside world. Like an airport security bin, it gathers what cannot pass the gate — but here, the confiscation is gentle, almost kind. Each phone dropped inside is a quiet farewell to constant pings, calls, and earthly urgency, making room for the calm on the other side.
Hung with quiet authority, it bears a simple instruction: Leave your apples here. To some, it’s just a fruit; to others, it’s the oldest symbol of human longing. Its painted apple gleams faintly, a reminder of the first bite that changed everything. Like an airport notice before a flight, it asks for compliance — but here, surrendering your apple is more than protocol.
Perched lightly on its pedestal, the Angel watches without judgment. Its smooth form and golden accents are less about grandeur and more about presence — a reminder that guidance doesn’t need words. This figure isn’t here to lead or to block, but simply to witness. Like the quiet staff at an airport gate, the Angel stands nearby, making the threshold feel less mechanical.
It stands tall and unblinking, a silent guardian of the threshold. Its arms rotate with deliberate grace, not to block, but to measure readiness. Under the soft glow of celestial light, the Turnstile becomes less a machine and more a halo you step through, a quiet moment that transforms a traveler into a guest of eternity.
Behind the scenes
This project began not as a set of objects, but as a question: What would it feel like to prepare for paradise as if it were a flight? The Turnstile, the Apple Sign, and the Basket of silent phones became my cast of characters — each one a checkpoint in an imagined departure lounge beyond the clouds.
They started as sketches, then evolved into detailed 3D models, each with its own light, texture, and quiet personality. I explored how to stage them as both solemn and slightly absurd, the way airport rituals can feel — structured yet oddly human.
Project was created during The Pillar course my Misha Katz.
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