MARIA VERA
- Mar 31
- 5 min read
Sculpting Air, Time, and Light
Maria Vera’s work takes shape at the meeting point of engineering precision and complete openness to the unpredictable. It is in this space, between control and release, that her visual language unfolds.
In conversation with AH Magazine, Maria Vera speaks about the path that led her from architecture to artistic practice, about working with movement and light, about trusting natural forces, and about the moment when a work begins to breathe together with the space it inhabits.
When you look back, which moment or decision most clearly carried you from architecture and engineering into the artistic practice you pursue today?
[Laughs] The decision to let go of control, combined with an unstoppable drive to explore and create beautiful objects and experiences. During my Building Technologies studies, I often felt like an artist among engineers, always searching for the boundaries within each assignment. I explored the geometry of deep-sea microorganisms and how dome structures could be designed using the intricate structural patterns found in nature.
For my graduation project, I designed a table as a scale model for a resort in the Port of Rotterdam. After graduating, I continued developing this work, exploring my own voice and identity, learning how to collaborate, navigate the design scene, and even trying to sell the piece.
Not long after, I applied for a simple production role at Studio DRIFT, mainly because I needed financial stability without giving up my search for beauty. I worked with DRIFT for over four years, contributing to the development of projects such as Meadow, Amplitude, and Ego. DRIFT is known for its fully controlled, highly technical kinetic sculptures, and working with them freed me from the more rigid world of architecture. Designing movement felt very natural to me; it connected deeply with my love for dance, and my longing for innovation and adventure.
In my own work, which kept evolving, the exploration of movement in combination with the ethereal quality of light and colour is a recurring theme. The more I can let go of control in the process of creation, the more magic I can unveil. It started with Light Fields, using an optical illusion to make light blending and movement part of the work. Later I started to experiment with kinetic mobiles, deliberately staying away from motors and control software to orchestrate behaviour. Stepping back allowed me to work more intimately with the existing energies of light and airflow.
In your work, light is more than a subject. It’s a primary tool. What first drew you to light as a medium, and what does it allow you to achieve that other media can’t?
I believe there is profound beauty hiding everywhere in us and around us. And I try to create the conditions for the universe to show its magic. Light is literally an energy carrier, and I believe it is the voice of the complex and mysterious mathematical world we are part of.
‘Real’ light cannot be captured. It can be experienced only in the now. It’s fleeting, and when you dance with it, it pulls you into presence; it asks you to stay engaged and to integrate time. This is why my work comes to life when you spend time with it.
When a work truly belongs in a space, something clicks. What tells you that the relationship between the piece and its setting is right?
The relationship between the object, observer, and the space is very interesting and crucial. These three aspects form a web of relationships that define the experience. Light will live within the space and bring energy to it. It will bring out the textures, colours, and proportions already present in the space. The Light Cycles residential pieces each bring their own character, and their reflections also interact playfully, like tiny satellites of light travelling around occasionally.
What does the start of a new piece look like in your studio, and what is the first sign that you’re moving in the right direction?
I look for a sense of being in each projection. When you work with glass and light, it’s quite easy to create a surprising effect. But I want to find a soul. I want to reveal liveliness, a sense of character. If the universe could speak, what would its voice look like?
In January, you presented a new collection at 88 Gallery in London, accompanied by a soundscape created specifically for the evening. What idea set this collection in motion, and what feels new in it when you place it alongside your earlier work?
The Light Cycles collection is the result of a gradual and not always easy process of letting go of control while working with high-precision engineering at the same time. It is about finding beauty rather than trying to achieve it.
I would describe the process behind this collection as a puzzle of freedom versus control, like solving a Rubik’s Cube made of airflow and light. I feel very proud of this body of work, and deeply joyful about having shifted from controlling things to dancing with them. It feels like a blessing; the universe is always there, ready to move with me.
When you develop a work for a specific space, especially an interior where people linger, what does the space need to allow the work to fully come to life?
With my background in architecture, I love finding ways to integrate my work into a specific context. I must work with the daylight and evening light conditions and the textures of the walls. My work suits calm, harmonious, and deliberately designed spaces. I love to collaborate with architects and designers, and ideally, we can adjust the lighting in a space to really craft an experience. Light is a powerful tool in architecture, and it can transform a space in many ways.
What misconception about working with light comes up most often in the way audiences and clients respond, and what would you like them to understand differently after experiencing your work?
Light Cycles are quite unique objects, living in the space between art, design, and installation. It’s not a clear category, so it helps to guide the experience a little. I noticed that it requires about 30 seconds for people to connect with my work. It’s a performance rather than a display. This is why I’m interested in collaborating with musicians. Our bodies and brains weave sound and moving light together, and that helps people surrender to the work.
In your Light Fields work, what guides you most right now, and what continues to keep you curious?
The search for universal beauty. I want to show the stunning and mysterious complexity of this world, and invite people to connect with it.
In a subtle dialogue between matter and energy, between precision and play, a space opens where beauty emerges on its own as the natural consequence of trust in the process.
