Virtual exhibition by Lilia Hristova
Metaverse space: SOFT CASE Studio

Lost in mystery, surrounded by fatal whirlpools, and shrouded in psychedelic fog. Nestled between unknown quadrants of the Indian Ocean, with coordinates unknown to satellites, in geographical latitudes not yet marked on any map. Behind the seventeen-color rainbow, against the backdrop of the polychromatic sea mirage, about ten leagues beyond the edge of the planet... This could be the path of a motivated pilgrim who has devoted his life to discovering the clinic: Metassance.

Only in the brief moments when the January sun reached its zenith, the endless clouds would spread and form a fiery path leading to the fluffy, noiseless waterfall of eerie beauty: the entrance to the clinic. Two symmetrical guards—one half-man and one half-woman with tight diamond arches—stood ready to shoot anyone who accidentally approached the ethereal threshold of the building. Only the chosen ones were granted a choice: they received a priceless amethyst key, which would crumble to dust once they crossed the clinic's threshold and stepped into the trapezoidal corridor. This way, the administration of the clinic knew that only worthy patients entered, choosing eternal divine beauty over immeasurable earthly wealth.

The clinic was a unique construction. Blocks of liquid thinking crystal formed the base, melting and refreezing gradually into whimsical structures. Upon this dynamic foundation, the building itself was situated: modest in size but with an absurd facade—a complex assembly of pilasters, sculptures, garlands, and similar decorations such as Gorgons and scorched cherubs, petrified in the mold of perfect eternity. Floating above the spatial tripod like an opal platter was the Operating Room—the heart and soul of Metassance.

The Supreme Surgeon was a semi-deity with skin covered in black and white dots. His movements were measured and slow, fluid. Drops of radiance flowed down his concentrated face as he applied the anti-gravity formula. His eyes flickered in delirium as he summoned the lord of time to reverse the course of the years. Fourteen virgins in a perpetual state of grandmotherly ecstasy presumably moaned the long-forgotten song of sisterhood, whose sole task was to recite and convey the secret of perfect harmony between the magic of technology and divine inspiration.

Centuries have passed since the last legend of Metassance reached humanity. It is rumored that the fourteen virgins one day looked at each other, nodded neutrally, and submerged the building, along with the staff, medical equipment, and the Operating Room. In the era of Instagram, there simply were not enough patients and no need for the Supreme Surgeon. Also, no one knows if the most finely infinitely perfect beauties and handsome individuals written off by the Clinic ever returned from it and lived among us again. And we will never know what is written in the secret recipe for Divine Beauty. We will remain forever in wandering, searching, and dreaming of that place in the Indian Ocean where the Ethereal clinic for divine beauty "Metassance" has sunk deep and for eternity.

Architect Iassen Markov

The project was realized with the financial support of the National Fund "Culture," Debut Program.