To a large extent, I don’t know where I’m heading when I begin a new piece. The directions are unclear, yet the desires are strong. I start by shaping it—extruding, twisting, splitting, carving—entirely within a digital 3D model. As the sculpting unfolds, a space or object begins to emerge. At some point, it begins to tell me what it wants to become. This, without a doubt, is the most fulfilling part of the creative process—when I become merely a vessel for the artwork itself. Once the image takes shape, I move it into the physical world, employing laser engraving, cutting, painting, and woodworking to bring it to life.
Although my work has always been guided by intuition, looking back, I see a consistent thread running through it—a deep yearning to reconnect with the rich sensory experiences of the physical world. These experiences, often inaccessible or even impossible for the modern urban dweller, form the essence of my exploration. Like walking through a canyon, tracing the texture and temperature of its rock, inhaling its earthy scent; stepping into a cave, enveloped by its darkness, humidity, and silence; or sitting high atop a tree, listening as the wind weaves its sounds through the labyrinth of the forest.
Having spent much of my life in large cities like New York and São Paulo, I’m acutely aware of the transformation that takes place daily around me. Corner by corner, the city becomes an ever-changing landscape of mirrored glass buildings, adorned with security cameras. I cannot help but recognize the monotony of the world we’ve created for ourselves—the sensory deprivation that seems to curse modern architecture, and the sterile tactile quality that afflicts our cities.
I long to reignite the erotic connection between the body and its environment. Here, Eroticism extends beyond the sexual; it’s a broader concept that encompasses those moments where life and death, pleasure and pain, body and space collide—creating transformative experiences that rupture the boundaries of the everyday. Eroticism is vitality born from the friction between the self and the world, a spiritual and sensory state of openness where moving through space feels like swimming in amniotic fluid, where everything grows and is spontaneously transformed.
One essential condition for experiencing the Erotic is vulnerability. Without it, there can be no depth to our engagement with the world. That’s where the challenge lies: while we must protect ourselves from overwhelming stimuli, danger, and violence, we must also be careful not to entrap our senses in an impenetrable fortress. It’s a delicate balance—the fine line between self-preservation and transformative experience. It is in this space of constantly shifting boundaries that art resides.
You can find out more about Tom Capobianco at @tom.capobianco
Photos: Courtesy of the artist.
