In this exhibition, flowers become silent witnesses of time and memory.
In Yuliia Kryvytska's work, they float in a bare space, alone, suspended. Their blue shadows stretch like memories that refuse to fade. Inspired by Marlene Dietrich's song Où sont les fleurs (Where are the flowers), these paintings are not about war, but about what remains afterwards: fragile, obstinate forms, instants caught between persistence and disappearance. Some lean, some open, some seem to bend, as if to protect themselves from oblivion. They whisper a simple, painful and essential question: what remains, and what have we done with the world that gave birth to them?
Peter Woodburn's photographs extend this whisper with an infinitely subtle poetry. Each hyper-realistic, still-life-like image is built up of several layers that transform perception: a flower can become something else depending on the angle, the light; a cherry tree, a budding branch, a gesture of nature captured and recomposed. Superimposed layers create a world balanced between reality and imagination, between presence and dissolution. The hyper-realistic precision reveals both the fragility and strength of what survives, while the multi-layered composition offers a space for reverie, where the eye can lose itself and be transformed.
Here, painting and photography respond to each other. They speak of what persists and what fades, of the fragile interweaving of memory and oblivion. They offer a suspended time, where beauty becomes a whisper, where contemplation becomes a way of resisting the erasure of the world. And in this poetic silence, a question remains, constant and shattering: where are the flowers, and what remains of all that made them exist?
Peter Woodburn's photographs extend this whisper with an infinitely subtle poetry. Each hyper-realistic, still-life-like image is built up of several layers that transform perception: a flower can become something else depending on the angle, the light; a cherry tree, a budding branch, a gesture of nature captured and recomposed. Superimposed layers create a world balanced between reality and imagination, between presence and dissolution. The hyper-realistic precision reveals both the fragility and strength of what survives, while the multi-layered composition offers a space for reverie, where the eye can lose itself and be transformed.
Here, painting and photography respond to each other. They speak of what persists and what fades, of the fragile interweaving of memory and oblivion. They offer a suspended time, where beauty becomes a whisper, where contemplation becomes a way of resisting the erasure of the world. And in this poetic silence, a question remains, constant and shattering: where are the flowers, and what remains of all that made them exist?
