Luca Trazzi’s synthetic gaze has distilled the essence of the Renaissance cloister and sacristy built between 1492 and 1497, attributed to Donato Bramante, into a dialogue with the grand dome. A decorative graffiti etched into the cloister’s plaster—flowers faint yet persistent—became the seed of inspiration for this luminous intervention.

Like the frescoed patterns that once animated these walls, the installation’s lamps take shape: weightless, radial, pulsating with a warm glow. Light moves through the spaces in distinct rhythms—circular along the portico, star-like in the garden, linear toward the apse in the sacristy.

Slender golden anodized aluminum wires spiral around a central stem, terminating in small bursts that echo the floral motif of the graffiti. These standing lamps rise within the four garden beds and the sacristy, their quiet geometry shaping the space. Suspended above the cloister’s vaulted corridors, chandelier-like fixtures offer a diffused, low-intensity light downward—an invitation to nighttime contemplation—while casting a more expansive glow upward, illuminating the arches.

There are sixteen scattered through the garden and eight in the sacristy. The numbers are deliberate—multiples of eight, an homage to Bramante’s design, where eight stood alongside twelve (the apostles) and four (the evangelists). The number eight, an ancient symbol of rebirth, gestures toward the eighth day, the day of Resurrection, and later, the Immaculate Conception, canonized as dogma in 1854.

The installation follows the same logic that governed the architecture of these Renaissance spaces—an underlying mathematical order, a silent structure of meaning. It recalls the work of Luca Pacioli, the mathematician who dedicated De Divina Proportione to Ludovico il Moro, with illustrations by his friend Leonardo da Vinci. It echoes Bramante's careful balancing of form and faith.