Skelevaggio knows that the end of anything isn’t an ending more than it's an unexpected new beginning. Let every lumen remind us that existence, like a good party, doesn't really end it just moves to ever-evolving rooms with different lighting. This piece extends the lineage of the original Luminaut while carrying its own voltage—more ambitious, more responsive, more exquisitely engineered for the collectors who understand what it means to hold a living artwork rather than a static one.
Luminaut Vs Luminaut II
This work is a personal story translated into bone, crystal, code, and light—and handed to collectors who know what to do with a power object when they see one. Skelevaggio Luminaut II is live. Step up to it. Step inside it. Then show somebody else how it works.
Music by ENDODECA
The soundscape of Luminaut II is powered by original work from ENDODECA, appearing courtesy of Supreme Racket Records. The sonic layer is deliberate, engineered to deepen the psychological and emotional gradient of the piece. It’s an audio architecture that surrounds rather than accompanies. Music that illuminates the skull’s interior—an invisible chamber inside the viewer’s mind. This is not background music; it’s part of the machine.
How the Work Is Experienced
This piece is not fixed to a single point of view. You can move around it, rotate it, slow it down, speed it up. The heart turns deliberately, as if it is considering you back. The skull that crowns it is not decorative—it is an interior space. You can go inside it. From within the skull, the world shifts. You are no longer looking at the work; you are looking out from it. That change in perspective is intentional. The sculpture is built to let the viewer inhabit the mind that grew around the heart. Surrounding the form is an atmosphere of suspended light—small points that hover, drift, and subtly reorganize themselves. They behave less like decoration and more like a field: responsive, alive, aware of motion. They give the sense that the heart exists within a thinking environment rather than empty space. Interaction is activated through a simple gesture: a tap of the artist’s signature. The signature functions as a key. When tapped, it reveals the interactive controls—quietly, without ceremony. No instructions shout at you. The work assumes curiosity. From there, the viewer is free to explore: to rotate, to enter, to linger, to test angles and proximity. The controls do not gamify the experience; they slow it down. They are there to let the piece unfold at the pace of attention. This is not a sculpture meant to be passed by. It asks to be handled gently, explored patiently, and understood spatially. The ability to enter the skull, to move through the skull's architecture, turns the work into a conversation rather than a soliloquy. It rewards those who like to show how things work—how something is built, how it thinks, how it responds. The interactivity is intimate. Glide inside.