The constellation plaques you see here are not for sale (though I am considering it; if this speaks to you, you can leave a note at the interest form).
They are traces of a practice, objects that emerged from curiosity, calculation, and long nights spent thinking about the sky.

Each piece begins with a precise question; what did the sky look like, exactly then, from that specific place on Earth? A birth, an arrival, a year, a quiet turning point.

Every sky corresponds to a moment that will never repeat. The stars return, slowly, but the instant does not. We all pass through one such alignment, briefly, without noticing it at the time.

This work is a way to pause on that rarity, not to monumentalize it, but to acknowledge it. A quiet celebration of being here, once, under this sky.

Learn how to draw the sky

What follows is the craft behind the objects.

This is a technical path, part notebook, part tutorial, part story. Through mathematics, astronomy, and code, the articles below explain how a real sky becomes a drawn one, how coordinates turn into lines, and how time becomes geometry.

The same methods used to create the constellation plaques are explored here, step by step, without shortcuts.

The series unfolds as a quiet narrative. Tuareg travelers move through the desert at night, guided by stars, learning to read the sky as both map and companion. Each chapter advances the craft alongside the story, walking beneath the same sky it seeks to draw.

• The Celestial Sphere2026-02-07

How they came to be

Each plaque begins as a computed sky.

Coordinates are calculated, stars are selected, projections are chosen, and only then does the sky become a drawing. The drawing becomes an engraving. The engraving becomes an object.

Slate was chosen for its weight and endurance. Gold, for the way it holds light without insisting on attention. A name, a place, and a moment in time are carved directly into the stone.

The piece rests in a carved larch box, with a simple stand, accompanied by a printed letter explaining what is being held.

Nothing here is produced, stocked, or sold. These objects exist as outcomes, not as inventory.

Why this work exists

This began as a gift for a newborn.
Posters felt temporary. I wanted something that could sit quietly in a room for decades an object of value.

Slate carries time.
Gold gives it a trace of light.

What emerged was not a product, but a method, a way to translate a precise astronomical moment into a physical form. The object is only the surface of that method.

This page marks the threshold. Beyond it is the craft itself, learning how to draw the sky, and, sometimes, imagining what it means to walk through the night guided only by stars that belong to no one, yet feel deeply personal.