Mylene Costa

Mylene Costa | Incepta

Your works often explore the dialogue between form and emptiness. How do you approach this balance in yourcreative process?

For me, emptiness is never absence — it is presence at rest. In my sculptures, form emerges from space just as space emerges from form. I seek the point where matter becomes space, where fullness and hollowness complete one another. Working with this balance is an act of listening — allowing the material to reveal what it must become and what it must let go of. Emptiness is what allows form to hold a soul.

Mylene Costa | Fenda Do Tempo Compact

The concept of transformation appears central in your sculptures. How do you translate this invisible processinto material form?

Transformation is the language of time inscribed in matter. I do not perceive it as rupture, but as continuity — a silent cycle in which everything moves, even in stillness. In sculpture, I try to reveal this state of transition: the moment in which being renews itself without ceasing to be. Gesture, heat, weight, and resistance become traces of this dialogue between the transient and the permanent. To sculpt, for me, is to accompany the breath of time until it becomes form.

You mention “the invisible pulse that connects matter and consciousness.” Could you share how this ideamanifests during the act of sculpting?

Sculpting is an encounter between matter, consciousness, and spirit. There is a moment when the gesture transcends the physical act and becomes a state of presence — as if the material itself awakened to its own vibration. This invisible pulse is the subtle current that flows through everything — the bridge between what is tangible and what breathes in silence. When I am before the work, I do not try to impose a form, but to listen, allowing it to reveal its inner essence, as if guided by something beyond the visible. Each sculpture is born from that silent dialogue, where spirit recognizes itself in matter, and consciousness expands through form.

Your work reflects a strong sense of feminine vitality. How does the feminine principle influence yourunderstanding of time and transformation?

For me, the feminine principle is not an identity but a law that inhabits everything that exists. In the universe, nothing stands alone — every form is born from the meeting of opposites, from what contains and what expands, from the visible and the invisible. This balance is the foundation of creation: the endless movement between matter and energy, stillness and impulse, silence and sound. In sculpture, I seek this convergence — the moment when polarities recognize each other and become one presence. Time, in this sense, is not a line or a cycle, but a breath: it contracts and expands, dissolves and renews, like everything that pulses. What we call the feminine is, for me, the force that receives, sustains, and gives form to this flow — the space where existence finds meaning through transformation.

The reflective and polished surfaces of your sculptures interact deeply with light and space. Do you considerlight an active participant in your compositions?

I do not see darkness as something that exists — only the absence of light. And in this sense, light does not come solely from the work itself, but from the viewer who approaches it. The polished surfaces of my sculptures act as a field of encounter: they return the light they receive, transforming the gaze into visible matter. The work does not impose brightness — it welcomes it. It is the spectator who activates the luminous space.

Light becomes a shared current — not something I control, but something that appears through the relationship between body, presence, and perception. The sculpture responds to what stands before it: it absorbs, reflects, expands.

For me, light is a principle of revelation; and the sculpture, a place where that revelation occurs. Light is active, yes — but active because the other exists. The work lights up only when someone crosses it.

What role does intuition play in your creative process — especially when working with materials like bronze,resin, or marble?

For me, intuition is not a sudden thought — it is a form of consciousness that precedes form. It emerges as an energetic field seeking space to exist, almost like a movement that comes before the gesture. In the sculpting process, I see myself as a mediator between this invisible force and the material world. Intuition arrives as a subtle breath pointing toward a direction in time, and the material — bronze, resin, or marble — offers the body through which that breath can become presence.

Each material holds its own temporality: bronze carries memory, marble holds silence, resin welcomes transformation. Intuition recognizes these natures before I can name them. My role is to adapt, translate, and allow what wants to be born to find the precise place where matter and spirit coincide.

To sculpt is not to impose form — it is to accompany a revelation. The work emerges when intuition finds a body capable of sustaining its truth. I simply adjust the path so that this passage unfolds with clarity, respect, and depth. It is a silent agreement between the visible and the invisible, between what arrives and what allows itself to become.

Looking ahead, are there new materials or conceptual directions you wish to explore?

For me, the future is not a destination — it is a field of possibilities already vibrating in the present. The directions I wish to explore arise from that movement: from what has no form yet, but already has intention.

Rather than seeking new materials, I feel I am deepening my relationship with the spirit of matter itself. What draws me is not novelty, but expansion: understanding how each material dialogues with time, light, and consciousness, and how it can reveal other layers of what already exists in silence.

I am interested in scales and surfaces that broaden the sensory experience — works capable of creating portals between inner and outer space, between the intimate and the cosmic. I do not see this as change, but as the natural continuation of my path: taking sculpture toward a territory where presence, perception, and spirituality intersect even more intensely.

The new directions I seek are not only technical — they are ontological. I want to deepen the research into what gives rise to form, into what asks to be revealed, and into how the artwork can become a passage between worlds.

The future of my sculpture lies in this dialogue: between what pulses in matter and what vibrates in the invisible, waiting to emerge.