The whole scene is rendered in shades of white. Walls, floor, figures, crates — everything ton sur ton. The space is a narrow gallery, somewhere between a fancy address and a neighbourhood that hasn't quite been discovered yet. The kind of place that gets chosen before it becomes obvious. Several white crates are placed around the space — the kind that brought the pieces here. Nobody moved them. A handful of visitors stand close together, the way people do at these things — glasses raised, conversation low, attention half on each other and half on the room.

Maybe it's the arcblend light. Maybe it's something else entirely — something that doesn't exist yet, not even as a sketch. The maquette doesn't insist. It just holds the idea of an evening like this, in a room like this, with work that somehow made it. Sometimes the small model is where the magic lives. The real thing, if it ever comes, might not surpass it.