3D Plans. Scoping Venues. Space-testing

When I began preparing for my exhibition, I found it very difficult to choose the right space. But several things happened along the way that helped me to clarify what I really want and to understand where I stand as an artist today.

We are living in the 21st century, it's already 2025. Technology is all around us. Artificial Intelligence, tools like ChatGPT, and virtual worlds are not just passing trends. They’re part of how we live, communicate, and present ideas. Even though my artworks are very physical and tactile, they are also a reaction to this digital world. I don’t ignore technology; I respond to it. My materials are raw, fragile, heavy. They contrast with the smooth, untouchable surface of the screen.

Another turning point was personal. I realised that my parents, although they never say it openly, are watching my Instagram, YouTube, and WhatsApp stories. They follow what I’m doing, and their friends sometimes even talk to them about my work. We have very different opinions, especially about the war in Ukraine. They still believe the Russian propaganda, and this has been very painful. But this realisation that they are secretly watching me online showed me how powerful the virtual world really is. It’s where we can still reach people, even those who might not come to a gallery or speak openly.

At the same time, something interesting happened. I found out that Jaguar, the British automotive brand I used to work with, had launched a new car but only online. No physical presentation. No showroom. Just a digital teaser.

I spoke with my husband, who still works with Jaguar, and he explained that now this is how they do it. That made me stop and think. If a company like Jaguar, known for luxury and experience, is going fully virtual, then maybe I should take this seriously, too.

Sure, I could have done an exhibition in a real space, maybe a construction site or an empty shop, and taken some great photos. But what would that really bring me? Who would see it? Instead, I made a bold decision to create a virtual exhibition.

And now, looking back, I am truly excited. I believe this format perfectly supports the message of my work: our bodies are physical and fragile, but our lives are deeply connected to the virtual world. You are reading this now on a screen. You never met me in real life. You never touched my artworks. But here we are, connected.

So, I started planning the show online.

At first, I chose a virtual room that looked like a real space, with windows and soft light. But it didn’t feel right.

I wanted something that made it clear this is a virtual space. Something clean, neutral, artificial.

I made several mock-ups, tested different layouts, and explored how the space and the works interact.

I also experimented with the scale of my works. In real life, some of them are small and fragile. But in the virtual exhibition, I made them bigger, especially Silent Chorus,

which gained a new presence in a larger size. I even played with the idea of placing one wall work completely outside of the walls and breaking the logic of the virtual gallery.

There was no ceiling or floor anymore. You are just floating. Lost. I liked this feeling it reflects how we often feel online.

Something was missing, though: sound. So, I decided to record the sounds of my working process, how I hammer nails, scratch, cut and saw. I wanted this to be a subtle background layer, which I’ll explain in more detail later.

The technical side of the exhibition was made through Kunstmatrix. It was actually quite easy. One of my classmates had experience with it and kindly shared her knowledge, videos, and links. This made the process smoother.

Throughout all of this, I kept asking for feedback from friends, peers, and professionals. I showed them my mock-ups,

my past exhibitions,

even the restaurant setting where my works were still hanging. Their comments helped me understand how people see my work and which parts need more clarity.

I think the virtual space is not only a good place to exhibit my works, but a deeply fitting one, especially for what I am exploring. Here’s why:

1. My work is about contradictions, and the virtual space is exactly about this.

My works are hyper-physical, I use fragile materials, rough textures, handmade processes. They talk about touch, damage, presence. When these works are shown in a virtual gallery, it creates a powerful contradiction. The viewer sees something deeply material… but they can’t touch it. This lack becomes part of the meaning. The tension between the virtual screen and the physical subject sharpens the viewer’s awareness.

2. This is a space of resistance and reach.

I'm dealing with themes like war, propaganda, emotional state, and personal story. The people I want to reach, like my parents, are already online. The digital space, in that sense, isn’t just a compromise. It’s a site of action. It’s where ideologies clash, where truths are hidden or revealed. This is the first and main tool of propaganda. Exhibiting here is like placing my work directly in the battlefield.

3. Physical exhibitions are powerful, but also limited. Space, time, access, geography, politics. With the virtual exhibition, anyone can enter. I can invite people across countries, ideologies, generations. I make myself visible without needing permission from a gallery or institution. And still, I stay true to my practice because I’m not trying to make “digital” work; I’m just translating my physical world into this new format.

4. I work with the virtual space critically, not passively.

What makes it work is that I’m not using the virtual space just because it’s easy or trendy. I’m thinking with it, shaping it, reflecting on what it means. I’m changing scales, playing with the absence of floor and ceiling, adding sounds of my process. I’m not just putting objects in a room, I’m building an experience.

5. My art needs time, and the internet gives that. Someone might rush through a gallery. But in a virtual space, people may return. Watch again. Read again. I create something slow in a fast world.

The virtual space gives my physicality even more power, because it dares to place it in a place where people least expect to feel something real.