Prior to the 20th century, apartments and ride houses were often built with shared walls between adjacent properties. Intrigued by these aging structures, artist in Vienna Asya Marakulina Started by cataloging examples she first noticed during walks around her former house in St. Petersburg, Russia.
“Because houses were built in the 19th century without openings between them, when a house is demolished, the neighboring house often carries traces of the demolished,” Marakulina tells Colossal. These remains of decor, plumbing and other signs of human habitation form the basis of its continuous ceramic series, There was a home.
When Marakulina moved to Vienna, she saw a similar phenomenon in the remains of older buildings that were also demolished there. Fragments of the floor still clung to the walls and the contours of painted or paper rooms were suddenly – somewhat uncomfortable – externally. The convenience of a warm interior and the corresponding homeliness was aware.
“What touches me the most and influences me in images of destroyed houses are the traces of wallpaper, tiles and children’s rooms, which suddenly become visible to the entire street,” says the artist, who shares that the vision evokes a deep sadness. “These spaces were never meant to be seen in such a way.”
Marakulina compares houses with the bodies of living organisms, steeped in emotions, memories and layered histories. The ceramic cross -sections have a portrait -like quality, with simple views of buildings with several cracks that are immediately and intimate at the same time. “Perhaps that is the reason why these images fascinate me so much, because some of someone’s inner, household life is suddenly turned from the inside and made public,” she says.
The houses in There was a home are usually from real buildings, of which she records or find photos on the internet. Marakulina also considers the effects of war and is deeply moved by the current conflicts in Ukraine and the Midden -East, where thousands of houses have been destroyed and their inhabitants have been killed or displaced. The half -existing houses represent lost lives and hope to be able to rebuild one day.
Instead of simple copies of the buildings she encounters, Marakulina takes freedoms with wall colors, sometimes adding graffiti or words that she sees on the street or gets out of the news. She scores the clay to make the textures of tiles and concrete or delimitation lintels and former door openings. The resulting reliefs become collage-like, merging locations and motifs.
If you are in Belgium, you can see the work of the artist in Ceramic Brussels, which opens today and continues until January 26. In London, Marakulina has created a site-specific installation for a solo show on The smallest gallery in SohoThey will continue until mid -February, and later that month she will exhibit with Vienna Collectors Club. Find more about the artist website And Instagram.
