Driving through the industrial outskirts of Antwerp, a quiet gate opens at the end of the road. Behind it lies a warehouse transformed into an artist’s studio. The air carries the sharp scent of cut steel and the cool dust of marble—this is the world of Belgian artist and designer Ben Storms.

In a wooden crate, a new work lies still. From afar, it resembles a massive, unyielding rock; only on touch does its lightness reveal itself—a mere 4-millimeter stone shell stretched over a hollow metal frame. Its surface, patterned with hand-hammered mosaics and bound with resin, holds a paradox: a “fractured wholeness.”This is an alchemical ground for materials, a laboratory of optical deception.“By creating impossible forms, I want to unsettle people, to throw them off balance for a moment,” Ben explains. “It’s a way to make them see the ordinary with new eyes.”

The “impossible” emerges from his experiments with matter. In the center of the studio, steel sheets are pressed against stone molds. With a sudden burst of air, the cold metal expands and swells like something alive, taking shapes that seem to hover between a cushion and a cloud. The finished sculptures, in stainless steel, rise in the room like silent guardians, reflecting every flicker of light around them.

Where others see metal only as strong and permanent, Ben imagines it as soft, even fragile. “Force is like a third hand in my work—it lets steel shift between strength and gentleness, challenging the way we normally think of it.”

When a marble surface rests on a sharply geometric steel base, it seems almost freed from gravity. The grooves of the base align so precisely with the stone that even air feels like an invisible adhesive.The folds in the steel look bent under pressure, yet in truth they push back, playing tricks on the eye. Is the metal bending to the marble’s weight, or is the stone giving way to the sharp edges of steel? This tension feels like a dialogue between strength and fragility. In the changing light, boundaries blur, turning the meeting of marble and metal into a kind of poetic reflection.

In Ben’s hands, fire gives shape, gravity gives soul. Steel is taught to breathe, stone to hold a trace of softness, and glass to prove that even the lightest forms can carry heavy truths.

His studio itself feels like a paradox: handcraft and digital tools working side by side, commerce and art feeding each other. “People ask me, art or market? I say, they have to breathe together.” He points to a small side table glowing like moonlight. “They nourish one another.”

On the grass lies a man-sized polished chrome “pillow.” In the shifting light it suddenly looks light as a feather, playful and almost magical. The breeze carries drifting clouds across its mirrored surface; dry branches rustle gently in the wind. Here, industry and nature share a quiet conversation—and from the stillness, a red flower blooms.

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