Sommersemester 2025, MA Raumstrategien Kunsthalle , Kunsthalle_Startseite , Raumstrategien_Startseite , Rundgang
Still Soaking
Rundgang 2025
Everything is wet.
The moss, the bark, our fingertips.
Mist clings to the trees like breath not yet exhaled.
We move slowly, parting ferns with our hands, listening for the hush that
follows a storm.
The trail has disappeared—swallowed by puddles, softened into memory.
And we don’t mind.
Some paths return only when the ground
is still soaking,
and the world forgets its shape
just long enough
to show us another way.
The works gathered here form an assemblage of embodied stories—
memories carried not only by us, but by those who came before and those
yet to arrive. In dialogue with the textured terrains they traverse, the artists
in this exhibition engage structural rupture and tune into other frequencies—
channeling gestures of disappearance and resistance. Their practices
approach transition, displacement, and fragmentation as conditions of
transformation, rather than loss.
Unfinished gestures—or those suspended in flux—interrupt linear time,
making space for disruption and upheaval as modes of survival. Themes
of ancestry, ecology, memory, and violence are explored through multiple
experiences, where radical imagination emerges from difference to build
collective unity. Drops fall, gathering into an ocean.
Still Soaking
8
Like humidity rising from uneven ground, the works here condense what
refuses to settle: dissonant rhythms, displaced emotions, inherited fractures.
Nothing here seeks resolution. Instead, the air thickens with what has been
carried, sweated out, absorbed again—stories, wounds, dreams. In this
saturation, transition becomes a dense, political, and intimate climate.
This is a space of refusal and remembrance, of grief and care. And it is also
an offering—where ritual becomes threshold, and celebration opens the
possibility of healing, relief, and relation.
ProjektkategorieMaster Projekt-Fächer MA Raumstrategien
Raumklang at Kunsthalle - Organization Dré Philippens
activates the peripheries at Kunsthalle am Hamburger Platz with a variety of sound related performances.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
activates the peripheries at Kunsthalle am Hamburger Platz with a variety of sound related performances.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Raumklang at Kunsthalle - Organization Dré Philippens
activates the peripheries at Kunsthalle am Hamburger Platz with a variety of sound related performances.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
activates the peripheries at Kunsthalle am Hamburger Platz with a variety of sound related performances.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Ulysséia Unarchives In 3 Acts by moa may
Since her first years in Berlimbo,
ulysséia observes that the noise
of machines usually sounds much
louder than the noise of human
voices around the city. Rejected
books are no longer burned here.
Still, when left for adoption on the
streets, they may become garbage
— absorbed into a cartography of
dog pee and forgetting.In between
the lines and pages of these books
ulysséia collected over the years
on the pavements of the city, is
also the silence of (unnumbered)
dead trees and suppressed oral
cultures—from which she came as
well.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Since her first years in Berlimbo,
ulysséia observes that the noise
of machines usually sounds much
louder than the noise of human
voices around the city. Rejected
books are no longer burned here.
Still, when left for adoption on the
streets, they may become garbage
— absorbed into a cartography of
dog pee and forgetting.In between
the lines and pages of these books
ulysséia collected over the years
on the pavements of the city, is
also the silence of (unnumbered)
dead trees and suppressed oral
cultures—from which she came as
well.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Ulysséia Unarchives In 3 Acts by moa may
Since her first years in Berlimbo,
ulysséia observes that the noise
of machines usually sounds much
louder than the noise of human
voices around the city. Rejected
books are no longer burned here.
Still, when left for adoption on the
streets, they may become garbage
— absorbed into a cartography of
dog pee and forgetting.In between
the lines and pages of these books
ulysséia collected over the years
on the pavements of the city, is
also the silence of (unnumbered)
dead trees and suppressed oral
cultures—from which she came as
well.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Since her first years in Berlimbo,
ulysséia observes that the noise
of machines usually sounds much
louder than the noise of human
voices around the city. Rejected
books are no longer burned here.
Still, when left for adoption on the
streets, they may become garbage
— absorbed into a cartography of
dog pee and forgetting.In between
the lines and pages of these books
ulysséia collected over the years
on the pavements of the city, is
also the silence of (unnumbered)
dead trees and suppressed oral
cultures—from which she came as
well.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Dracaena Allee By Kathleen Bomani
Installation with VR headset, archival
photographs, and neon light (“Mischen
possible”)
Dracaena Allee is an immersive
installation that weaves together virtual reality, family archives, and spatial interventions to explore ancestral memory, colonial rupture, and speculative repair.
At its center is a 16-minute VR experience guided by the sacred
Isale plant (Dracaena afromontana), a threshold between the living and ancestral worlds. Viewers enter a divided terrain—one grounded in matrilineal land stewardship and family architecture; the other disrupted by German missionary violence, ecological dispossession,} and archival erasure.
Surrounding the VR headset are photographs of a Lutheran church built by the artist’s great- grandfather—constructed for
missionaries whose later actions included the trafficking of human remains. Suspended nearby, a neon work titled Mischen Possible
references a stolen postcard and the misspellings found in German colonial records (e.g. “Shuma” rendered as “Schuma,” “Machame”
as “Madschame”). While Mischen translates from German as “mixing,” here it becomes Mission possible—a coded signal toward
repatriation and ancestral return.
The sign mirrors the dimensions of a postcard in height, but stretches the length of a kanga, the East African textile known for ferrying subversive messages.
The work engages critically with the aesthetics of green energy and sustainability—echoing Bomani’s long-term research into sisal, colonial engineering, and contemporary greenwashing.
Set within an institution that holds human remains, Dracaena Allee becomes a site of reckoning: with archives, with architecture, with light, and with the names that survive misspelled but unforgotten.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Installation with VR headset, archival
photographs, and neon light (“Mischen
possible”)
Dracaena Allee is an immersive
installation that weaves together virtual reality, family archives, and spatial interventions to explore ancestral memory, colonial rupture, and speculative repair.
At its center is a 16-minute VR experience guided by the sacred
Isale plant (Dracaena afromontana), a threshold between the living and ancestral worlds. Viewers enter a divided terrain—one grounded in matrilineal land stewardship and family architecture; the other disrupted by German missionary violence, ecological dispossession,} and archival erasure.
Surrounding the VR headset are photographs of a Lutheran church built by the artist’s great- grandfather—constructed for
missionaries whose later actions included the trafficking of human remains. Suspended nearby, a neon work titled Mischen Possible
references a stolen postcard and the misspellings found in German colonial records (e.g. “Shuma” rendered as “Schuma,” “Machame”
as “Madschame”). While Mischen translates from German as “mixing,” here it becomes Mission possible—a coded signal toward
repatriation and ancestral return.
The sign mirrors the dimensions of a postcard in height, but stretches the length of a kanga, the East African textile known for ferrying subversive messages.
The work engages critically with the aesthetics of green energy and sustainability—echoing Bomani’s long-term research into sisal, colonial engineering, and contemporary greenwashing.
Set within an institution that holds human remains, Dracaena Allee becomes a site of reckoning: with archives, with architecture, with light, and with the names that survive misspelled but unforgotten.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Dracaena Allee By Kathleen Bomani
Installation with VR headset, archival
photographs, and neon light (“Mischen
possible”)
Dracaena Allee is an immersive
installation that weaves together virtual reality, family archives, and spatial interventions to explore ancestral memory, colonial rupture, and speculative repair.
At its center is a 16-minute VR experience guided by the sacred
Isale plant (Dracaena afromontana), a threshold between the living and ancestral worlds. Viewers enter a divided terrain—one grounded in matrilineal land stewardship and family architecture; the other disrupted by German missionary violence, ecological dispossession,} and archival erasure.
Surrounding the VR headset are photographs of a Lutheran church built by the artist’s great- grandfather—constructed for
missionaries whose later actions included the trafficking of human remains. Suspended nearby, a neon work titled Mischen Possible
references a stolen postcard and the misspellings found in German colonial records (e.g. “Shuma” rendered as “Schuma,” “Machame”
as “Madschame”). While Mischen translates from German as “mixing,” here it becomes Mission possible—a coded signal toward
repatriation and ancestral return.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Installation with VR headset, archival
photographs, and neon light (“Mischen
possible”)
Dracaena Allee is an immersive
installation that weaves together virtual reality, family archives, and spatial interventions to explore ancestral memory, colonial rupture, and speculative repair.
At its center is a 16-minute VR experience guided by the sacred
Isale plant (Dracaena afromontana), a threshold between the living and ancestral worlds. Viewers enter a divided terrain—one grounded in matrilineal land stewardship and family architecture; the other disrupted by German missionary violence, ecological dispossession,} and archival erasure.
Surrounding the VR headset are photographs of a Lutheran church built by the artist’s great- grandfather—constructed for
missionaries whose later actions included the trafficking of human remains. Suspended nearby, a neon work titled Mischen Possible
references a stolen postcard and the misspellings found in German colonial records (e.g. “Shuma” rendered as “Schuma,” “Machame”
as “Madschame”). While Mischen translates from German as “mixing,” here it becomes Mission possible—a coded signal toward
repatriation and ancestral return.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Decision To Leave By Ana Júlia Fortes
Found furniture, inherited fabrics & other people’s memories
What makes one leave a beloved
place in a hurry?
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Found furniture, inherited fabrics & other people’s memories
What makes one leave a beloved
place in a hurry?
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Decision To Leave By Ana Júlia Fortes
Found furniture, inherited fabrics & other people’s memories
What makes one leave a beloved
place in a hurry?
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Found furniture, inherited fabrics & other people’s memories
What makes one leave a beloved
place in a hurry?
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Fill My Heart With Song, Not Blue, And Let Me Sing Forevermore By xindi
Voice, sorrow, connection—
again and again, censored, si-
lenced, stripped away.
We are taught how to stay calm,
but never how to grieve.
In this turbulent time,
how do we dissolve political de-
pression?
My therapist said:
“Try to find something you can do
alone, with joy.”
So I began to sing.
In my room, old melodies—
songs once part of history, of pop
culture—
have now become whispers in my
dialogue with the world.
I rewrite the lyrics, reshape the mel-
odies, embed poems within.
Words I can’t say outright
slip into the air through music—
both an emotional release
and a quiet act of resistance.
During the exhibition,
I sing in this small room from time
to time.
Visitors who carry the same weight
of melancholy
are invited to step into this intimate
space,
choose your own song of release,
and sing it, too.
We need songs and poems—
not a hopeless world.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Voice, sorrow, connection—
again and again, censored, si-
lenced, stripped away.
We are taught how to stay calm,
but never how to grieve.
In this turbulent time,
how do we dissolve political de-
pression?
My therapist said:
“Try to find something you can do
alone, with joy.”
So I began to sing.
In my room, old melodies—
songs once part of history, of pop
culture—
have now become whispers in my
dialogue with the world.
I rewrite the lyrics, reshape the mel-
odies, embed poems within.
Words I can’t say outright
slip into the air through music—
both an emotional release
and a quiet act of resistance.
During the exhibition,
I sing in this small room from time
to time.
Visitors who carry the same weight
of melancholy
are invited to step into this intimate
space,
choose your own song of release,
and sing it, too.
We need songs and poems—
not a hopeless world.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Fill My Heart With Song, Not Blue, And Let Me Sing Forevermore By xindi
Voice, sorrow, connection—
again and again, censored, si-
lenced, stripped away.
We are taught how to stay calm,
but never how to grieve.
In this turbulent time,
how do we dissolve political de-
pression?
My therapist said:
“Try to find something you can do
alone, with joy.”
So I began to sing.
In my room, old melodies—
songs once part of history, of pop
culture—
have now become whispers in my
dialogue with the world.
I rewrite the lyrics, reshape the mel-
odies, embed poems within.
Words I can’t say outright
slip into the air through music—
both an emotional release
and a quiet act of resistance.
During the exhibition,
I sing in this small room from time
to time.
Visitors who carry the same weight
of melancholy
are invited to step into this intimate
space,
choose your own song of release,
and sing it, too.
We need songs and poems—
not a hopeless world.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Voice, sorrow, connection—
again and again, censored, si-
lenced, stripped away.
We are taught how to stay calm,
but never how to grieve.
In this turbulent time,
how do we dissolve political de-
pression?
My therapist said:
“Try to find something you can do
alone, with joy.”
So I began to sing.
In my room, old melodies—
songs once part of history, of pop
culture—
have now become whispers in my
dialogue with the world.
I rewrite the lyrics, reshape the mel-
odies, embed poems within.
Words I can’t say outright
slip into the air through music—
both an emotional release
and a quiet act of resistance.
During the exhibition,
I sing in this small room from time
to time.
Visitors who carry the same weight
of melancholy
are invited to step into this intimate
space,
choose your own song of release,
and sing it, too.
We need songs and poems—
not a hopeless world.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Vacations by Amanda Bobadilla
This work draws on an archival
family video from a childhood
vacation in Oaxaca, Mexico, titled
Vacations. I use this video as a
point of departure to create an in-
stallation that explores imagination
as a means of reconnecting with
family histories and rethinking the
conservative narratives my family
constructed, particularly through
the metaphor of dismantling the
fences of my childhood home. I
think about the welcome to a place where fences and architectural
context push you out.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
This work draws on an archival
family video from a childhood
vacation in Oaxaca, Mexico, titled
Vacations. I use this video as a
point of departure to create an in-
stallation that explores imagination
as a means of reconnecting with
family histories and rethinking the
conservative narratives my family
constructed, particularly through
the metaphor of dismantling the
fences of my childhood home. I
think about the welcome to a place where fences and architectural
context push you out.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Vacations by Amanda Bobadilla
This work draws on an archival
family video from a childhood
vacation in Oaxaca, Mexico, titled
Vacations. I use this video as a
point of departure to create an in-
stallation that explores imagination
as a means of reconnecting with
family histories and rethinking the
conservative narratives my family
constructed, particularly through
the metaphor of dismantling the
fences of my childhood home. I
think about the welcome to a place
where fences and architectural
context push you out.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
This work draws on an archival
family video from a childhood
vacation in Oaxaca, Mexico, titled
Vacations. I use this video as a
point of departure to create an in-
stallation that explores imagination
as a means of reconnecting with
family histories and rethinking the
conservative narratives my family
constructed, particularly through
the metaphor of dismantling the
fences of my childhood home. I
think about the welcome to a place
where fences and architectural
context push you out.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
The Taste Of Soil And Stone Fills My Mouth By Vivi Letayf
A video piece on lichens, filmed at
Floating University. An exploration
of matter, surface, and slow time.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
A video piece on lichens, filmed at
Floating University. An exploration
of matter, surface, and slow time.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
I Know No Boundaries I, Ii, Iii, By Vivi Letayf
A series of three works mapping the micro-topographies of lichens,moving between landscape, erosion, and drawing.
Developed as a visual extension of the publication Lichens: A Slow In-surrection, created in collaboration with Laura Mas.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
A series of three works mapping the micro-topographies of lichens,moving between landscape, erosion, and drawing.
Developed as a visual extension of the publication Lichens: A Slow In-surrection, created in collaboration with Laura Mas.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
The Cocoon Of Shifting Dreams By Sumona Dhakal
“The Cocoon of Shifting Dreams” is a performative installation that explores dreaming as a political and collective force against systemic exhaustion, precarity, displacement, and the capture of time, imagination, and desire. In the face of accelerating crises and colonial violence, dreaming becomes a radical tool for survival—an act of refusal, care, and worldbuilding against all odds. Rooted in decolonial, diasporic, and feminist practices, the work asks: Whose dreams are stolen, silenced, or commodified?
Four cocoons sown together from leftover textile scraps hang suspended, representing entangled dreamscapes, interwoven in utopia, dystopia and dreamlessness. Through performance, the cocoons unravel into sculptural dream(s)capes eventually creating an embodied space - a temporary architecture for gathering, reflection, and speculative visioning.
One cocoon remains hollow. Yet, it invites transformation. Visitors are called to weave their own visions into its surface at the Dream Weaving Station, sewing in scraps, threads, and memories. As collective dreams accumulate, the cocoon begins to shift, animating what capitalism, colonialism and imperialism attempt to suffocate. In this shared act of imagination, the installation becomes a space of resistance and reassembly, where dreaming is reclaimed as a political right and a collective force. The dreamskins breathe, stretch, and reveal hidden layers, turning textile into a living, critical archive.
This performative installation emerges from the collaborative project “Dreaming Change”, initiated in 2021, as part of Dhakal’s Master Thesis Project in Global Studies. It premiered as part of the exhibition “verträumt” by artburst berlin, and was further hosted by Co2libri, Fragile Behausungen conference, and Queer Unschool South Asia. The Dreamspace, alongside its workshops and performances, remains an ongoing, relational process: open to change, critique, and collective transformation. Rather than seeking resolution, it embraces its unfinished nature as a space for creative experimentation, shared learning, and speculative imagination.
Special thanks: My heartfelt gratitude to Anna Lena Ballweg who not only introduced me patiently to the world of sewing machines but embraced this project with so much openness, curiosity, creativity and gentle guidance - without you, the dream(s)capes would have not emerged.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
“The Cocoon of Shifting Dreams” is a performative installation that explores dreaming as a political and collective force against systemic exhaustion, precarity, displacement, and the capture of time, imagination, and desire. In the face of accelerating crises and colonial violence, dreaming becomes a radical tool for survival—an act of refusal, care, and worldbuilding against all odds. Rooted in decolonial, diasporic, and feminist practices, the work asks: Whose dreams are stolen, silenced, or commodified?
Four cocoons sown together from leftover textile scraps hang suspended, representing entangled dreamscapes, interwoven in utopia, dystopia and dreamlessness. Through performance, the cocoons unravel into sculptural dream(s)capes eventually creating an embodied space - a temporary architecture for gathering, reflection, and speculative visioning.
One cocoon remains hollow. Yet, it invites transformation. Visitors are called to weave their own visions into its surface at the Dream Weaving Station, sewing in scraps, threads, and memories. As collective dreams accumulate, the cocoon begins to shift, animating what capitalism, colonialism and imperialism attempt to suffocate. In this shared act of imagination, the installation becomes a space of resistance and reassembly, where dreaming is reclaimed as a political right and a collective force. The dreamskins breathe, stretch, and reveal hidden layers, turning textile into a living, critical archive.
This performative installation emerges from the collaborative project “Dreaming Change”, initiated in 2021, as part of Dhakal’s Master Thesis Project in Global Studies. It premiered as part of the exhibition “verträumt” by artburst berlin, and was further hosted by Co2libri, Fragile Behausungen conference, and Queer Unschool South Asia. The Dreamspace, alongside its workshops and performances, remains an ongoing, relational process: open to change, critique, and collective transformation. Rather than seeking resolution, it embraces its unfinished nature as a space for creative experimentation, shared learning, and speculative imagination.
Special thanks: My heartfelt gratitude to Anna Lena Ballweg who not only introduced me patiently to the world of sewing machines but embraced this project with so much openness, curiosity, creativity and gentle guidance - without you, the dream(s)capes would have not emerged.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
The Cocoon Of Shifting Dreams By Sumona Dhakal
“The Cocoon of Shifting Dreams” is a performative installation that explores dreaming as a political and collective force against systemic exhaustion, precarity, displacement, and the capture of time, imagination, and desire. In the face of accelerating crises and colonial violence, dreaming becomes a radical tool for survival—an act of refusal, care, and worldbuilding against all odds. Rooted in decolonial, diasporic, and feminist practices, the work asks: Whose dreams are stolen, silenced, or commodified?
Four cocoons sown together from leftover textile scraps hang suspended, representing entangled dreamscapes, interwoven in utopia, dystopia and dreamlessness. Through performance, the cocoons unravel into sculptural dream(s)capes eventually creating an embodied space - a temporary architecture for gathering, reflection, and speculative visioning.
One cocoon remains hollow. Yet, it invites transformation. Visitors are called to weave their own visions into its surface at the Dream Weaving Station, sewing in scraps, threads, and memories. As collective dreams accumulate, the cocoon begins to shift, animating what capitalism, colonialism and imperialism attempt to suffocate. In this shared act of imagination, the installation becomes a space of resistance and reassembly, where dreaming is reclaimed as a political right and a collective force. The dreamskins breathe, stretch, and reveal hidden layers, turning textile into a living, critical archive.
This performative installation emerges from the collaborative project “Dreaming Change”, initiated in 2021, as part of Dhakal’s Master Thesis Project in Global Studies. It premiered as part of the exhibition “verträumt” by artburst berlin, and was further hosted by Co2libri, Fragile Behausungen conference, and Queer Unschool South Asia. The Dreamspace, alongside its workshops and performances, remains an ongoing, relational process: open to change, critique, and collective transformation. Rather than seeking resolution, it embraces its unfinished nature as a space for creative experimentation, shared learning, and speculative imagination.
Special thanks: My heartfelt gratitude to Anna Lena Ballweg who not only introduced me patiently to the world of sewing machines but embraced this project with so much openness, curiosity, creativity and gentle guidance - without you, the dream(s)capes would have not emerged.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
“The Cocoon of Shifting Dreams” is a performative installation that explores dreaming as a political and collective force against systemic exhaustion, precarity, displacement, and the capture of time, imagination, and desire. In the face of accelerating crises and colonial violence, dreaming becomes a radical tool for survival—an act of refusal, care, and worldbuilding against all odds. Rooted in decolonial, diasporic, and feminist practices, the work asks: Whose dreams are stolen, silenced, or commodified?
Four cocoons sown together from leftover textile scraps hang suspended, representing entangled dreamscapes, interwoven in utopia, dystopia and dreamlessness. Through performance, the cocoons unravel into sculptural dream(s)capes eventually creating an embodied space - a temporary architecture for gathering, reflection, and speculative visioning.
One cocoon remains hollow. Yet, it invites transformation. Visitors are called to weave their own visions into its surface at the Dream Weaving Station, sewing in scraps, threads, and memories. As collective dreams accumulate, the cocoon begins to shift, animating what capitalism, colonialism and imperialism attempt to suffocate. In this shared act of imagination, the installation becomes a space of resistance and reassembly, where dreaming is reclaimed as a political right and a collective force. The dreamskins breathe, stretch, and reveal hidden layers, turning textile into a living, critical archive.
This performative installation emerges from the collaborative project “Dreaming Change”, initiated in 2021, as part of Dhakal’s Master Thesis Project in Global Studies. It premiered as part of the exhibition “verträumt” by artburst berlin, and was further hosted by Co2libri, Fragile Behausungen conference, and Queer Unschool South Asia. The Dreamspace, alongside its workshops and performances, remains an ongoing, relational process: open to change, critique, and collective transformation. Rather than seeking resolution, it embraces its unfinished nature as a space for creative experimentation, shared learning, and speculative imagination.
Special thanks: My heartfelt gratitude to Anna Lena Ballweg who not only introduced me patiently to the world of sewing machines but embraced this project with so much openness, curiosity, creativity and gentle guidance - without you, the dream(s)capes would have not emerged.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
The End of the Line by Viviana Druga
The End of the Line weaves protest and vulnerability into a space of radical listening. Six metal placards—resembling protest signs—form a circle around a round table with a rotary telephone. When lifted, a voice begins to speak for 45 minutes: a confession, a memory, a longing—too fragile for the public realm.
This is not a performance, but a transmission. The speaker does not know who listens. The listener cannot respond. The telephone becomes a threshold—between intimacy and distance, hospitality and refusal.
At the heart of the installation, two tarot cards—The Sun and The Moon—emerge from the artist’s 22+1 performance, serving as portals of visual alchemy. Their presence conjures dualities: illumination and obscurity, revelation and concealment. Set against a backdrop of flames and raised hands, The End of the Line becomes a ritual of resistance and reawakening. In a world engulfed by despair, the work insists on looking beyond: toward what is vast, cyclical, and enduring. Through the sacred act of listening, it invites a shared attunement—reminding us that art, in its essence, holds the capacity to rethread us into the larger weave of being.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
The End of the Line weaves protest and vulnerability into a space of radical listening. Six metal placards—resembling protest signs—form a circle around a round table with a rotary telephone. When lifted, a voice begins to speak for 45 minutes: a confession, a memory, a longing—too fragile for the public realm.
This is not a performance, but a transmission. The speaker does not know who listens. The listener cannot respond. The telephone becomes a threshold—between intimacy and distance, hospitality and refusal.
At the heart of the installation, two tarot cards—The Sun and The Moon—emerge from the artist’s 22+1 performance, serving as portals of visual alchemy. Their presence conjures dualities: illumination and obscurity, revelation and concealment. Set against a backdrop of flames and raised hands, The End of the Line becomes a ritual of resistance and reawakening. In a world engulfed by despair, the work insists on looking beyond: toward what is vast, cyclical, and enduring. Through the sacred act of listening, it invites a shared attunement—reminding us that art, in its essence, holds the capacity to rethread us into the larger weave of being.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
The End of the Line by Viviana Druga
The End of the Line weaves protest and vulnerability into a space of radical listening. Six metal placards—resembling protest signs—form a circle around a round table with a rotary telephone. When lifted, a voice begins to speak for 45 minutes: a confession, a memory, a longing—too fragile for the public realm.
This is not a performance, but a transmission. The speaker does not know who listens. The listener cannot respond. The telephone becomes a threshold—between intimacy and distance, hospitality and refusal.
At the heart of the installation, two tarot cards—The Sun and The Moon—emerge from the artist’s 22+1 performance, serving as portals of visual alchemy. Their presence conjures dualities: illumination and obscurity, revelation and concealment. Set against a backdrop of flames and raised hands, The End of the Line becomes a ritual of resistance and reawakening. In a world engulfed by despair, the work insists on looking beyond: toward what is vast, cyclical, and enduring. Through the sacred act of listening, it invites a shared attunement—reminding us that art, in its essence, holds the capacity to rethread us into the larger weave of being.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
The End of the Line weaves protest and vulnerability into a space of radical listening. Six metal placards—resembling protest signs—form a circle around a round table with a rotary telephone. When lifted, a voice begins to speak for 45 minutes: a confession, a memory, a longing—too fragile for the public realm.
This is not a performance, but a transmission. The speaker does not know who listens. The listener cannot respond. The telephone becomes a threshold—between intimacy and distance, hospitality and refusal.
At the heart of the installation, two tarot cards—The Sun and The Moon—emerge from the artist’s 22+1 performance, serving as portals of visual alchemy. Their presence conjures dualities: illumination and obscurity, revelation and concealment. Set against a backdrop of flames and raised hands, The End of the Line becomes a ritual of resistance and reawakening. In a world engulfed by despair, the work insists on looking beyond: toward what is vast, cyclical, and enduring. Through the sacred act of listening, it invites a shared attunement—reminding us that art, in its essence, holds the capacity to rethread us into the larger weave of being.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
self-mockery by Haonan Liu
Cutting letters from second-hand children’s clothes I’ve collected, and stitched them into slogans on small flags.
While listening to a podcast, I heard they use the term homonationalism to justify massacres in the Middle East. For some reason, it suddenly reminded me of transphobic conservatives in the U.S.—and I thought, could they actually get along with my parents? Maybe even with my uncles who curse America every day? Especially now, when the relationship between China and the U.S. is so delicate... That’s when I started thinking about slogans again—like “One Planet” or “Workers of the World, Unite.”
In the wake of the collapse of globalization as a fantasy, I wanted to respond with a kind of joke—to mourn that lost dream of a beautifully interconnected world.
Out of the ruins of internationalism and cosmopolitanism, At the same time, the exposure of trauma becomes a form of self-mockery, and also a quiet act of reaffirmation.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Cutting letters from second-hand children’s clothes I’ve collected, and stitched them into slogans on small flags.
While listening to a podcast, I heard they use the term homonationalism to justify massacres in the Middle East. For some reason, it suddenly reminded me of transphobic conservatives in the U.S.—and I thought, could they actually get along with my parents? Maybe even with my uncles who curse America every day? Especially now, when the relationship between China and the U.S. is so delicate... That’s when I started thinking about slogans again—like “One Planet” or “Workers of the World, Unite.”
In the wake of the collapse of globalization as a fantasy, I wanted to respond with a kind of joke—to mourn that lost dream of a beautifully interconnected world.
Out of the ruins of internationalism and cosmopolitanism, At the same time, the exposure of trauma becomes a form of self-mockery, and also a quiet act of reaffirmation.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
self-mockery by Haonan Liu
Cutting letters from second-hand children’s clothes I’ve collected, and stitched them into slogans on small flags.
While listening to a podcast, I heard they use the term homonationalism to justify massacres in the Middle East. For some reason, it suddenly reminded me of transphobic conservatives in the U.S.—and I thought, could they actually get along with my parents? Maybe even with my uncles who curse America every day? Especially now, when the relationship between China and the U.S. is so delicate... That’s when I started thinking about slogans again—like “One Planet” or “Workers of the World, Unite.”
In the wake of the collapse of globalization as a fantasy, I wanted to respond with a kind of joke—to mourn that lost dream of a beautifully interconnected world.
Out of the ruins of internationalism and cosmopolitanism, At the same time, the exposure of trauma becomes a form of self-mockery, and also a quiet act of reaffirmation.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Cutting letters from second-hand children’s clothes I’ve collected, and stitched them into slogans on small flags.
While listening to a podcast, I heard they use the term homonationalism to justify massacres in the Middle East. For some reason, it suddenly reminded me of transphobic conservatives in the U.S.—and I thought, could they actually get along with my parents? Maybe even with my uncles who curse America every day? Especially now, when the relationship between China and the U.S. is so delicate... That’s when I started thinking about slogans again—like “One Planet” or “Workers of the World, Unite.”
In the wake of the collapse of globalization as a fantasy, I wanted to respond with a kind of joke—to mourn that lost dream of a beautifully interconnected world.
Out of the ruins of internationalism and cosmopolitanism, At the same time, the exposure of trauma becomes a form of self-mockery, and also a quiet act of reaffirmation.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
self-mockery by Haonan Liu
Cutting letters from second-hand children’s clothes I’ve collected, and stitched them into slogans on small flags.
While listening to a podcast, I heard they use the term homonationalism to justify massacres in the Middle East. For some reason, it suddenly reminded me of transphobic conservatives in the U.S.—and I thought, could they actually get along with my parents? Maybe even with my uncles who curse America every day? Especially now, when the relationship between China and the U.S. is so delicate... That’s when I started thinking about slogans again—like “One Planet” or “Workers of the World, Unite.”
In the wake of the collapse of globalization as a fantasy, I wanted to respond with a kind of joke—to mourn that lost dream of a beautifully interconnected world.
Out of the ruins of internationalism and cosmopolitanism, At the same time, the exposure of trauma becomes a form of self-mockery, and also a quiet act of reaffirmation.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Cutting letters from second-hand children’s clothes I’ve collected, and stitched them into slogans on small flags.
While listening to a podcast, I heard they use the term homonationalism to justify massacres in the Middle East. For some reason, it suddenly reminded me of transphobic conservatives in the U.S.—and I thought, could they actually get along with my parents? Maybe even with my uncles who curse America every day? Especially now, when the relationship between China and the U.S. is so delicate... That’s when I started thinking about slogans again—like “One Planet” or “Workers of the World, Unite.”
In the wake of the collapse of globalization as a fantasy, I wanted to respond with a kind of joke—to mourn that lost dream of a beautifully interconnected world.
Out of the ruins of internationalism and cosmopolitanism, At the same time, the exposure of trauma becomes a form of self-mockery, and also a quiet act of reaffirmation.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Breadman by Dré Philippens
Through breaking bread, The breadman is a figure brought to life both as a fool, patron and herald of Maastricht’s fading Carnival spirit. Maastricht is considered one of the Carnival’s strongholds down in the deep catholic south of the Netherlands. Here, The breadman emerges to form a grotesque body, reanimating the transformative space carnival can be, Embracing, inversion, masquerade and feast.
Carnival takes many forms and shapes globally. Humanity has an ancient bond to metamorphosis. where catholicism reigns it functions as a brief window, an antidote to the constraints of church and communal life: A sanctioned season of topsy-turvy.
The costume and character draws on the site-specific carnivalist dress of the region. Clerical garments were inverted or worn backwards, mocking ecclesiastical authority. From the 19th century onward, discarded bedding and attire served as readymades; collage was a necessity, a way to mask, and expose the ‘inner’ mask.
Today, as masquerade wanes in Maastricht, and its subversive effects shrink, the Breadman arrives, and is animated by another ancient cornerstone of civilization, bread. Bread stands at the threshold between feast and fasting, aligning with carnaval through collective indulgence and delight. Here, panem et circenses is perverted: bread becomes not a pacifier, but awakes the appetite for carnival.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Through breaking bread, The breadman is a figure brought to life both as a fool, patron and herald of Maastricht’s fading Carnival spirit. Maastricht is considered one of the Carnival’s strongholds down in the deep catholic south of the Netherlands. Here, The breadman emerges to form a grotesque body, reanimating the transformative space carnival can be, Embracing, inversion, masquerade and feast.
Carnival takes many forms and shapes globally. Humanity has an ancient bond to metamorphosis. where catholicism reigns it functions as a brief window, an antidote to the constraints of church and communal life: A sanctioned season of topsy-turvy.
The costume and character draws on the site-specific carnivalist dress of the region. Clerical garments were inverted or worn backwards, mocking ecclesiastical authority. From the 19th century onward, discarded bedding and attire served as readymades; collage was a necessity, a way to mask, and expose the ‘inner’ mask.
Today, as masquerade wanes in Maastricht, and its subversive effects shrink, the Breadman arrives, and is animated by another ancient cornerstone of civilization, bread. Bread stands at the threshold between feast and fasting, aligning with carnaval through collective indulgence and delight. Here, panem et circenses is perverted: bread becomes not a pacifier, but awakes the appetite for carnival.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Breadman by Dré Philippens
Through breaking bread, The breadman is a figure brought to life both as a fool, patron and herald of Maastricht’s fading Carnival spirit. Maastricht is considered one of the Carnival’s strongholds down in the deep catholic south of the Netherlands. Here, The breadman emerges to form a grotesque body, reanimating the transformative space carnival can be, Embracing, inversion, masquerade and feast.
Carnival takes many forms and shapes globally. Humanity has an ancient bond to metamorphosis. where catholicism reigns it functions as a brief window, an antidote to the constraints of church and communal life: A sanctioned season of topsy-turvy.
The costume and character draws on the site-specific carnivalist dress of the region. Clerical garments were inverted or worn backwards, mocking ecclesiastical authority. From the 19th century onward, discarded bedding and attire served as readymades; collage was a necessity, a way to mask, and expose the ‘inner’ mask.
Today, as masquerade wanes in Maastricht, and its subversive effects shrink, the Breadman arrives, and is animated by another ancient cornerstone of civilization, bread. Bread stands at the threshold between feast and fasting, aligning with carnaval through collective indulgence and delight. Here, panem et circenses is perverted: bread becomes not a pacifier, but awakes the appetite for carnival.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Through breaking bread, The breadman is a figure brought to life both as a fool, patron and herald of Maastricht’s fading Carnival spirit. Maastricht is considered one of the Carnival’s strongholds down in the deep catholic south of the Netherlands. Here, The breadman emerges to form a grotesque body, reanimating the transformative space carnival can be, Embracing, inversion, masquerade and feast.
Carnival takes many forms and shapes globally. Humanity has an ancient bond to metamorphosis. where catholicism reigns it functions as a brief window, an antidote to the constraints of church and communal life: A sanctioned season of topsy-turvy.
The costume and character draws on the site-specific carnivalist dress of the region. Clerical garments were inverted or worn backwards, mocking ecclesiastical authority. From the 19th century onward, discarded bedding and attire served as readymades; collage was a necessity, a way to mask, and expose the ‘inner’ mask.
Today, as masquerade wanes in Maastricht, and its subversive effects shrink, the Breadman arrives, and is animated by another ancient cornerstone of civilization, bread. Bread stands at the threshold between feast and fasting, aligning with carnaval through collective indulgence and delight. Here, panem et circenses is perverted: bread becomes not a pacifier, but awakes the appetite for carnival.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Reverie 01 (R01) by Cecilia Buffa
Reverie 01 is an artwork showing an image that doesn’t exist, or rather an image that exists differently in infinite moments: is constantly shape-shifting, ever changing. Its contours are set, yet its reality is undefined, an unclear reflection. It is an endless Doppelgänger: it is always identical as its surroundings, nonetheless its image can never be identically replicated.
Exaggeratedly site-related, calling you in, the artwork is almost constantly unavailable to be captured. It exists only once in every glance, subjectively, in the eyes of the onlooker.
Made of glass and petals that are frozen in their wilting state, the mirrors are made in Venice, according to the oldest traditional and historical way, with liquid silver.
The artisanal way of making mirrors allowed the artist Cecilia to create glitches, imprecisions, where the hand and physical gestures of the artist are revealed. Moments of lack, of emptiness, give way to depth. What can seem like a rupture, a despair, become moments rich of potential: maybe dramatic yes, but begging you to look deeper through them, beyond and behind.
With its disorienting quality, slightly rotating, the spatial artwork asks you to engage and look beneath the surface, beneath what you think is fixed or unchangeable, asks you to relate to its image in a meditative, hallucinating way, with openness and childish curiosity.
The petals - all from poisonous flowers -, the soil belonging to different geographical locations. Yet, everything is here, right now. The wilting flowers frozen in time and the mirrors, the soil and the space that is created, the smooth glass surfaces reminding us of the screens we look at everyday, and you here taking it all in.
The intricacies and complexities of the world, the interconnectedness is here, speaking to us, from beauty to death the minutiae are whispering to us: even when we might be losing hope, there is something alive to hold on to, even if for just one second.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Reverie 01 is an artwork showing an image that doesn’t exist, or rather an image that exists differently in infinite moments: is constantly shape-shifting, ever changing. Its contours are set, yet its reality is undefined, an unclear reflection. It is an endless Doppelgänger: it is always identical as its surroundings, nonetheless its image can never be identically replicated.
Exaggeratedly site-related, calling you in, the artwork is almost constantly unavailable to be captured. It exists only once in every glance, subjectively, in the eyes of the onlooker.
Made of glass and petals that are frozen in their wilting state, the mirrors are made in Venice, according to the oldest traditional and historical way, with liquid silver.
The artisanal way of making mirrors allowed the artist Cecilia to create glitches, imprecisions, where the hand and physical gestures of the artist are revealed. Moments of lack, of emptiness, give way to depth. What can seem like a rupture, a despair, become moments rich of potential: maybe dramatic yes, but begging you to look deeper through them, beyond and behind.
With its disorienting quality, slightly rotating, the spatial artwork asks you to engage and look beneath the surface, beneath what you think is fixed or unchangeable, asks you to relate to its image in a meditative, hallucinating way, with openness and childish curiosity.
The petals - all from poisonous flowers -, the soil belonging to different geographical locations. Yet, everything is here, right now. The wilting flowers frozen in time and the mirrors, the soil and the space that is created, the smooth glass surfaces reminding us of the screens we look at everyday, and you here taking it all in.
The intricacies and complexities of the world, the interconnectedness is here, speaking to us, from beauty to death the minutiae are whispering to us: even when we might be losing hope, there is something alive to hold on to, even if for just one second.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Reverie 01 (R01) by Cecilia Buffa
Reverie 01 is an artwork showing an image that doesn’t exist, or rather an image that exists differently in infinite moments: is constantly shape-shifting, ever changing. Its contours are set, yet its reality is undefined, an unclear reflection. It is an endless Doppelgänger: it is always identical as its surroundings, nonetheless its image can never be identically replicated.
Exaggeratedly site-related, calling you in, the artwork is almost constantly unavailable to be captured. It exists only once in every glance, subjectively, in the eyes of the onlooker.
Made of glass and petals that are frozen in their wilting state, the mirrors are made in Venice, according to the oldest traditional and historical way, with liquid silver.
The artisanal way of making mirrors allowed the artist Cecilia to create glitches, imprecisions, where the hand and physical gestures of the artist are revealed. Moments of lack, of emptiness, give way to depth. What can seem like a rupture, a despair, become moments rich of potential: maybe dramatic yes, but begging you to look deeper through them, beyond and behind.
With its disorienting quality, slightly rotating, the spatial artwork asks you to engage and look beneath the surface, beneath what you think is fixed or unchangeable, asks you to relate to its image in a meditative, hallucinating way, with openness and childish curiosity.
The petals - all from poisonous flowers -, the soil belonging to different geographical locations. Yet, everything is here, right now. The wilting flowers frozen in time and the mirrors, the soil and the space that is created, the smooth glass surfaces reminding us of the screens we look at everyday, and you here taking it all in.
The intricacies and complexities of the world, the interconnectedness is here, speaking to us, from beauty to death the minutiae are whispering to us: even when we might be losing hope, there is something alive to hold on to, even if for just one second.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Reverie 01 is an artwork showing an image that doesn’t exist, or rather an image that exists differently in infinite moments: is constantly shape-shifting, ever changing. Its contours are set, yet its reality is undefined, an unclear reflection. It is an endless Doppelgänger: it is always identical as its surroundings, nonetheless its image can never be identically replicated.
Exaggeratedly site-related, calling you in, the artwork is almost constantly unavailable to be captured. It exists only once in every glance, subjectively, in the eyes of the onlooker.
Made of glass and petals that are frozen in their wilting state, the mirrors are made in Venice, according to the oldest traditional and historical way, with liquid silver.
The artisanal way of making mirrors allowed the artist Cecilia to create glitches, imprecisions, where the hand and physical gestures of the artist are revealed. Moments of lack, of emptiness, give way to depth. What can seem like a rupture, a despair, become moments rich of potential: maybe dramatic yes, but begging you to look deeper through them, beyond and behind.
With its disorienting quality, slightly rotating, the spatial artwork asks you to engage and look beneath the surface, beneath what you think is fixed or unchangeable, asks you to relate to its image in a meditative, hallucinating way, with openness and childish curiosity.
The petals - all from poisonous flowers -, the soil belonging to different geographical locations. Yet, everything is here, right now. The wilting flowers frozen in time and the mirrors, the soil and the space that is created, the smooth glass surfaces reminding us of the screens we look at everyday, and you here taking it all in.
The intricacies and complexities of the world, the interconnectedness is here, speaking to us, from beauty to death the minutiae are whispering to us: even when we might be losing hope, there is something alive to hold on to, even if for just one second.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Letters to my friend*s by MN Reyna
Letters to my friend*s is an ongoing experimental painting series that emerged from visual research and live-painting sessions conducted during the mixed-media project Al Zamakan. This foundational work was developed in residency at Theatre Neben dem Turm, Marburg, with support from the Flausen+ Stipendium program of the Bundesverbands Freie Darstellende Künste e.V.
The paintings originate from a collaborative exploration with video artist Ghazal Alhamwi, examining embodied experiences of time and space within institutional waiting-rooms—spaces that impose particular pressures on diasporic bodies. Through developed scores of repeated movements and breathing patterns, the artists created a non-verbal communication language that guided live-filming sessions. These filmed sequences were projected onto raw canvas and painted in real-time, establishing the foundational sketches and visual vocabulary for the Letters to my friend*s series.
The live-painting process created works of shared authorship, where both filmed and painted images carry collective intention. Since 2024, MN Reyna has continued developing these paintings and their installation contexts, expanding the series from its collaborative origins into an evolving body of work that maintains the embodied research at its core.
The paintings are executed on raw, unprimed semi-transparent textile using diluted oil pigments that stain the fiber directly. Originally a single continuous plane, the textile was cut into specific forms as each work developed. The paintings remain unstretched, existing as flexible, permeable objects whose color, texture, and luminosity shift according to lighting and spatial positioning, functioning simultaneously as image and sculptural presence.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Letters to my friend*s is an ongoing experimental painting series that emerged from visual research and live-painting sessions conducted during the mixed-media project Al Zamakan. This foundational work was developed in residency at Theatre Neben dem Turm, Marburg, with support from the Flausen+ Stipendium program of the Bundesverbands Freie Darstellende Künste e.V.
The paintings originate from a collaborative exploration with video artist Ghazal Alhamwi, examining embodied experiences of time and space within institutional waiting-rooms—spaces that impose particular pressures on diasporic bodies. Through developed scores of repeated movements and breathing patterns, the artists created a non-verbal communication language that guided live-filming sessions. These filmed sequences were projected onto raw canvas and painted in real-time, establishing the foundational sketches and visual vocabulary for the Letters to my friend*s series.
The live-painting process created works of shared authorship, where both filmed and painted images carry collective intention. Since 2024, MN Reyna has continued developing these paintings and their installation contexts, expanding the series from its collaborative origins into an evolving body of work that maintains the embodied research at its core.
The paintings are executed on raw, unprimed semi-transparent textile using diluted oil pigments that stain the fiber directly. Originally a single continuous plane, the textile was cut into specific forms as each work developed. The paintings remain unstretched, existing as flexible, permeable objects whose color, texture, and luminosity shift according to lighting and spatial positioning, functioning simultaneously as image and sculptural presence.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Letters to my friend*s by MN Reyna
Letters to my friend*s is an ongoing experimental painting series that emerged from visual research and live-painting sessions conducted during the mixed-media project Al Zamakan. This foundational work was developed in residency at Theatre Neben dem Turm, Marburg, with support from the Flausen+ Stipendium program of the Bundesverbands Freie Darstellende Künste e.V.
The paintings originate from a collaborative exploration with video artist Ghazal Alhamwi, examining embodied experiences of time and space within institutional waiting-rooms—spaces that impose particular pressures on diasporic bodies. Through developed scores of repeated movements and breathing patterns, the artists created a non-verbal communication language that guided live-filming sessions. These filmed sequences were projected onto raw canvas and painted in real-time, establishing the foundational sketches and visual vocabulary for the Letters to my friend*s series.
The live-painting process created works of shared authorship, where both filmed and painted images carry collective intention. Since 2024, MN Reyna has continued developing these paintings and their installation contexts, expanding the series from its collaborative origins into an evolving body of work that maintains the embodied research at its core.
The paintings are executed on raw, unprimed semi-transparent textile using diluted oil pigments that stain the fiber directly. Originally a single continuous plane, the textile was cut into specific forms as each work developed. The paintings remain unstretched, existing as flexible, permeable objects whose color, texture, and luminosity shift according to lighting and spatial positioning, functioning simultaneously as image and sculptural presence.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Letters to my friend*s is an ongoing experimental painting series that emerged from visual research and live-painting sessions conducted during the mixed-media project Al Zamakan. This foundational work was developed in residency at Theatre Neben dem Turm, Marburg, with support from the Flausen+ Stipendium program of the Bundesverbands Freie Darstellende Künste e.V.
The paintings originate from a collaborative exploration with video artist Ghazal Alhamwi, examining embodied experiences of time and space within institutional waiting-rooms—spaces that impose particular pressures on diasporic bodies. Through developed scores of repeated movements and breathing patterns, the artists created a non-verbal communication language that guided live-filming sessions. These filmed sequences were projected onto raw canvas and painted in real-time, establishing the foundational sketches and visual vocabulary for the Letters to my friend*s series.
The live-painting process created works of shared authorship, where both filmed and painted images carry collective intention. Since 2024, MN Reyna has continued developing these paintings and their installation contexts, expanding the series from its collaborative origins into an evolving body of work that maintains the embodied research at its core.
The paintings are executed on raw, unprimed semi-transparent textile using diluted oil pigments that stain the fiber directly. Originally a single continuous plane, the textile was cut into specific forms as each work developed. The paintings remain unstretched, existing as flexible, permeable objects whose color, texture, and luminosity shift according to lighting and spatial positioning, functioning simultaneously as image and sculptural presence.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Untitted nº2 by Montserrat Andrade
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Untitted nº2 by Montserrat Andrade
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black
Alle Rechte vorbehalten Patricia Black