impossible object

The Geometry of Wonder

Gianni Sarcone

One of my finest sculptures: nested triangles, the central one in wood, the others in stainless steel…

Just kidding. It’s an impossible tribar composition — a sculpture that can exist only in the eye and the mind.

The Penrose triangle (or Penrose tribar) is generally credited to Roger Penrose, who, together with his father Lionel Penrose, published it in 1958 as an “impossible object.” However, the visual idea of creating paradoxical triangular forms and impossible geometries has older precedents.

Japanese visual culture is often mentioned in discussions of geometric illusion because Edo-period (1603–1868) art, decorative motifs, and craft traditions reveal a deep fascination with complex patterns, ambiguous spaces, and unconventional perspectives. Elements found in traditions such as sankaku mokkō (triangular motifs), karakusa patterns, architectural ornamentation, and woodworking designs show how Japanese artists and craftsmen explored visual structures that challenge perception. While no confirmed direct predecessor of the Penrose tribar has been identified in Japanese art, these examples belong to a broader historical tradition of creating forms that play with geometry and the limits of visual interpretation.

IF: The Two-State Threshold

Gianni Sarcone

I’ve always been drawn to impossible objects—those forms that slip between logic and illusion, never fully settling into one or the other.

This piece grew out of an old idea I felt compelled to revisit, almost as if reopening a long-forgotten door. A binary door, in fact—one that leads to two distinct worlds. Depending on how you look at it, it shifts, tilts, and reveals something else.

It starts with pencil on paper. A loose, intuitive phase where the form finds its way. From there, I move into FreeHand MS—an old tool I’ve never quite let go of. It still gives me a certain precision and feel I can’t replace. Finally, I refine the piece in Photoshop, adjusting, balancing, pushing it toward that delicate point where everything holds together.

There’s still work to be done. Something remains unresolved—but maybe that tension is part of what keeps it alive.