Inspired by Thomas Mann’s novel, The Magic Mountain is a place where the nostalgia of old Europe meets American pop iconography through the dazzling, vertiginous image of the roller coaster.

In Mann’s story, a sanatorium in the Swiss Alps becomes the setting for suspended time—a world governed by emotional highs and lows, by a rhythm detached from everyday life. In my version, those ascents and descents converse with the curves and plunges of the roller coaster: a metaphor for the relentless motion of contemporary existence.

This magic mountain is a sanctuary of contrasts: a space where rest and preservation coexist with speed and vertigo, a parallel reality in which time seems to stretch, contrasting the calm of isolation with the urgency of a world in constant agitation.

Collapse and recovery: this is the pulse of our lives. Collapse, brought on by sensory overload and the need to escape moral numbness. Recovery, understood as an intimate act of refuge—as the magic mountain each of us constructs for ourselves. It is within this oscillation that the magic of the everyday resides: a daily process that sustains us, transforms us, and reminds us that between vertigo and calm, the secret map of our lives is always being drawn.