Bassofondo d’Indaco

In the Bassofondo d’Indaco wallpaper I wanted to hold still the oldest and freest gesture I know: ink poured onto water, the Japanese suminagashi marbling technique, transposed here to the scale of a wall. It is the style that governs every line of this design, made of horizontal veins that run across the whole wall like sinuous ribbons, swelling and thinning without ever repeating.

At the top the veins are few and far apart, a pale slate-blue breathing on a warm ivory ground; lower down the bands multiply and tighten, the indigo grows denser, until it reaches an almost black blue where the lines interlace in a close mesh, punctuated by rare rust-red veins that burn in it like embers. Each vein remains a full, clean field of colour, without shadow: a graphic, absolute design, and yet alive with small eddies, forks and rings that come loose from the main flow.

I read in it time settling, quiet thickening into memory: the top is breath, the bottom is sediment. It is a surface that does not describe a place but a continuous movement, the very layering of thought. Applied to a single large free wall, at home as much as in a workplace or a hotel lobby, it lets this silent current draw the eye downwards, towards its most densely living point. In the WallZad print works every shade of this wallpaper is calibrated by hand, so that the passage from pale blue to indigo stays as fluid as ink on water, never mechanical.