In medieval Christian theology, the Limbus Infantium is the place where the souls of unbaptized children are said to reside. It is an in-between space neither heaven or hell, a realm of waiting and silent sorrow.  A visual journey through a space both mystical and oppressive. Balancing between monumentality and decay, silence and immensity, the work stages a progression that oscillates between the sacred and the mournful.

The first scene reveals a desolate place, an expanse of cold silence where emptiness weighs as heavily as grief. The crumbling, fractured architecture mirrors a wounded body, ravaged by what it has endured. There is no sound, no presence; only solitude, both physical and mental.

In the second part, the space contracts around a vertiginous staircase leading to a gaping void. This dark passage evokes both the female reproductive system and the inevitable gateway to loss. The pull into its depths symbolizes entry into a brutal reality, where the body becomes the stage for a tragedy beyond its control.

Finally, the last image locks the gaze within a claustrophobic corridor. A corridor of death where the air grows scarce with every step. The architecture tightens, oppressive, until the final moment. The light, sharp and merciless, sculpts the space with an almost divine intensity, as if attempting to illuminate what cannot be faced. It deepens the sensation of suffocation as much as it guides the eye toward the inevitable.

And at the end, he faces what should have been.

This triptych does not recount a specific event but rather a passage; one through a space where absence and sorrow have left their mark, a liminal place suspended between memory and oblivion.

Three silent scenes, one persistent fire. This triptych poses a question: are we witnessing a catastrophe… or a ritual? The fire is no longer accidental it feels like a consequence. It is born from a lone figure, spreads to a burning mill, then consumes an entire village until it meets the well.The well: final remnant, or passage to somewhere else? It invites you to fall… but fall into what, if hell has already begun? 
Inspired by Gustave Doré’s infernal visions and Dante’s circles, the viewer is left adrift. Only ashes remain, a burning silence, and unanswered questions.

I remain deliberately vague leaving it to you to interpret its meaning and draw your own conclusions.