A tangle of welded steel rods projects from the wall, appearing at first glance to be pure abstraction, raw and industrial in its physicality. Yet when light strikes the sculpture at the precise angle the artist intended, the cast shadow reveals what the metal itself withholds: the unmistakable outstretched arm and reaching hand of Adam, drawn directly from Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling. Larry Kagan's "Michelangelo's Adam" (2025) operates entirely within this gap between object and projection, asking the viewer to reconcile two radically different realities occupying the same moment in space. Kagan has spent decades refining this practice of shadow sculpture, and this work stands among his most conceptually charged achievements. The choice of source material is pointed. Michelangelo's Adam is arguably the most reproduced gesture in Western art history, an image so familiar it risks invisibility, yet here it is recovered through a process of deliberate concealment and revelation. The chaotic steel construction that produces it looks nothing like a human form, and that disjunction is precisely the point. Meaning is not embedded in the object itself but emerges only through the relationship between material, light, and surface. For the collector, this work functions on multiple registers simultaneously. As a physical object it carries the weight and presence of serious sculpture, handcrafted with the kind of obsessive precision that close inspection rewards. As an experiential event it transforms any installation space, animating a wall with a shadow that reads as both deeply historical and entirely contemporary. Held in the collection of Louis K. Meisel Gallery, "Michelangelo's Adam" represents Kagan at full command of a medium he has made entirely his own.