Descriptions of the exhibition And the Wind Will Take Us Away works 

And the Wind Will Take Us Away
05 10 2025 – 08 31 2025 

Descriptions of the exhibition works
Exhibition curator Lina Albrikienė 

Vija Celmins

(LV, b. 1938) 

Star Field
Ocean with Cross 

Vija Celmins, who moved to Germany during the WWII and then in 1948 to the USA, is a Latvian immigrant artist. Her prints Star Field and Ocean with Cross are the delicate, precise and extremely detailed artworks in this exhibition, visually revealing the ocean waves, stars and their meditative credibility. Her art works capture our desire for a permanent time and recalls scenes in our minds where we walk on the sea coast, watching the sea horizon or the stars above us. The artist invites the viewer to come closer and study the details, to focus on something in our still widely unanalysed surroundings, raising philosophical thoughts about the universe, death and life, about the little things in our casual lives and what we take for granted from nature that we can encounter and enjoy when the difficult times approach. Lying in a field with family or walking on the beach, Celmins invites to pay attention as well as honour the nature which puts us through different perspectives: cultural, psychological, intellectual. Celmin’s oeuvre is a lot about the time – time which is expanded in the universe. The artist remarks: “I ended doing this extremely detailed work that I detest but I somehow worked myself into the space and I am hoping to work myself out. But I hate to abandon a work that I have cared about for so long.” In her childhood, Celmins heard war planes flying, making a constant noise and bringing fear – within her drawings and paintings you escape from that feeling, instead you stay in the calm which the artist gives to us. 

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Alina Lamakh

(UA, 1925 – 2020)

Herbs 

Textiles have always been thought of as a traditional crafts-making art but when exhibited in a context of contemporary art exhibition, they reveal much richer meaning. For this exhibition Alinas’s Lamakh work Herbs probably is the only work which a viewer could see from an aesthetic perspective. The artist wove many different herbs into her tapestry in the 1970’s, when Ukraine and the Baltic countries were under the Soviet regime. Even during this repression Lamakh saw the beauty around her and decided to preserve plants in her delicate, highly technical level of execution as the representation of Ukrainian nature. In the context of the war happening today in Ukraine, the artist’s flowers can be understood as the beauty which is still left standing in the nature surrounded by fires caused by missile strikes, sirens, deaths and disappearance of humans. Her tapestry with nature is the commemoration or certainly even a monument to the fallen Ukrainian soldiers.  

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Gabrielė Griciūtė

(LT, b. 1999) 

Insomnia 

One sheep, two sheep, three, four, five sheep… When a child feels tired, insecure, or stressed, their instinct is to seek a mother’s comforting touch. Her arms wrap around the little one, holding them close, counting sheep until sleep gently arrives. Gabrielė Griciūtė’s installation Insomnia explores the deep-rooted anxiety and sleeplessness that can be a result of our overwhelming desire to live faster and to surpass those around us. When the time comes for rest, our minds remain tangled in chaos. Heavy, dry eyes stay wide open. When our days become filled with stress and noise, nature turns out to be the only shelter that can bring us back to the state of serenity. The core of Gabrielė’s installation is four figures made out of raw sheep wool. It represents a den of wild nature, protecting us from the hardships of the outside world and inviting us to return to our true selves. It can be seen as a symbol of comfort, representing the safe and warm embrace of our Mother Nature. The earth holds us in her arms, allowing us to rest and to reconnect with the natural environment from which we often drift away.  

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Dainius Liškevičius

Linking to Place 

When arriving to view this place, the owner pointed to an airplane flying high in the sky and said: “It’s already half past three, so this plane must be heading to Bombay.” At that moment, I thought that I had already traveled past this homestead before, because exactly 13 years ago I flew to India passing through here. So everything is fine – this is no coincidence but rather a fact confirming the inevitability of choosing this place. This could be considered the beginning of the story… 

Dainius Liškevičius’ project Linking to Place is an ongoing action lasting several years in a specific geographical location – at the artist’s homestead, situated in a remote area surrounded by still-existing forests, creating a sense of isolation, a post-apocalyptic island illusion that simulates physical escape or an illusory slowing of time. The presented objects include photographs and a cartographic drawing of an owl; a letter on canvas made from excrement depicting the settlement plan of the “Great Owl 2020” colony on Planet X, envisioned by settlers arriving from the earth. This outlines the inevitable dystopian future of humanity, already embedded in our consciousness. Belief in God is replaced by science fiction. Thus, a new narrative about humanity’s future is created – a new faith and hope tied to journeys to other worlds. Transcendence is replaced by planned physical journeys – bronze church candlesticks become models of a fleet of spacecraft, which can transform into architectural structures of a city… A church console becomes a reference to an owl, and at the same time to the concept of God, or the ruler of the Universe? Two colour photographs titled Bio 1 and Bio 2, depicting the same landscape captured a few minutes apart, resemble postcards one might take along as a memento when departing from Earth… Everything is tied together by the sentence: “There can be no life on Earth.” This phrase, stuck in the artist’s memory, serves as a kind of prehistory – a reconstruction of memory from a book by Pavlo Klushantsev read in childhood Martians, Respond! (1972). This installation is a search for contact with a personal place that seems to become an inevitable cosmic destiny.  

(Dainius Liškevičius) 

© Augis Narmontas

Laura Põld

(EE, b. 1984) 

Burrows. Flights 

Birds spread their wings freely, soaring through the air, binding earth and infinite sky. Each of them crafts its own authentic nest of various textures, colours and materials that mirror deep connection with its surroundings and environment. Their dwellings are delicate tapestries woven from twigs, feathers and the scattered artefacts of nature. Every nest is like an intricate web, a testament of biodiversity. Laura Pöld is a multidisciplinary artist whose work includes installations, sculpture and textiles. In 2019, she collaborated with poet Katrin Väli and created a ceramic installation titled “Natural Shelter” which artist readapted for this exhibition and retitled it Burrows. Flights. The artistic duo focuses on the interconnected relationship between man and nature. It unveils how bird nests and our living homes serve as oases of comfort and growth. Just as these winged creatures gather natural resources to create cozy shelters, people gather memories, love, and social connections to build their own personal spaces. These carefully crafted nests, like our own childhood households, become the primary place of safety which later on help us to take our initial steps towards adulthood.  

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

© Augis Narmontas

Katya Buchatska

(UA, b. 1987) 

The Great Meadow Silt
Umber Mykolaivska
Sienna Kharkivska 

The Kakhovka Dam made worldwide news around the world in June 2023 when it was blown up one year into Russia’s full-scale invasion. Recently, researchers found that it tiggered a “toxic timebomb” of environmental harm. 83,000 tonnes of heavy metals were released on the lakebed sediment. It has not yet been confirmed that the dam was bombed by the Russian military but if so, Russia will be accused of environmental war crimes which scientists compare to the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. The pollutants that were deposited can accumulate in all organisms living there and spread through the food chain to humans. The blown-up dam killed dozens of people and forced thousands to leave their homes.  

Artist Katya Buchatska commemorates this tragic event in a rather conceptually profound way. She made a remarking painting called The Great Meadow Silt by using silt collected from the flooded area mixed with oil. The artist chose an oval canvas which metaphorically suggests the idea of a shrinking Earth due to all disasters happening nowadays: geopolitical, social, environmental, etc. Another stirring ongoing painting series Buchatska is working on reflects a deeply emotional concept. Paintings Umber Mykolaivska and Sienna Kharkivska are made with soil collected by the artist’s friends who are fighting in these war zones. We can just imagine what this reverential soil preserves and what stories it could reveal to us by looking at Buchatska’s paintings. Human and animal blood, a microscopic ecosystem who were witnesses of the war. Buchatska conserves an important memory of her homeland.  

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Kristaps Epners

(LV, b. 1976) 

Forget Me Not 

Forget Me Not is a very subtle installation which, from the first glimpse, seems to depict the story of one person – the poet Miervaldis Kalniņš, who left Latvia in the 1970’s under the Soviet regime to his chosen escape – to Siberia. Boundless land which is covered by horrifying, traumatic stories and thousands of human bodies lie in overgrown nature. Artist Kristaps Epners lays out a very strong narrative by combining 8 mm and 16 mm films (director Verners Zālīte), found in the basement of the director’s friend, together with 36 letters that Epners discovered in his deceased father’s boxes. We become the witnesses of stories that Kristap’s Epner’s father, Ansis Epners, and Kalniš shared during the 10-year period of their correspondence. The film Sleeping Sayan, is done by deconstructing and editing original footage from life in Siberia, which Kalniš found comfortable, even refusing to come back to Latvia until the USSR collapsed – he returned in the middle of the 1990’s. But Epner’s work is not just about one particular human story, it is rather a memento for all of the approximately 200,000 people who were deported from three Baltic countries to Siberia under the Stalin regime. The installation consists also of the video Lake, which the artist shot in 2018. In this video we finally can clearly see an old man – Miervaldis Kalniņš – his profoundly deep, intellectual but desolate eyes. He sails in lake Alauksts with his beloved boat near his countryside home in Vecpiebalga. Kristaps Epners shot this video before the archival discoveries he found. That was the starting point for all his projects, which actually began from a dream that Epners had while sleeping, years ago.  

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Solveig Settemsdal

(NO, b. 1984) 

Shipwreck 

In 2018, a remarkable find was uncovered at the bottom of the Black Sea: a 2,400-year-old Greek merchant ship lying on its side off the Bulgarian coast. This historical discovery is now officially the world’s oldest known intact shipwreck. Surveyed and digitally mapped by two Anglo-Bulgarian underwater robotic explorers, it offers an astonishing glimpse into the ancient world. It‘s like a time capsule – preserved in deep, low-oxygen waters. 

In 2021, the artist Solveig Settemsdal came up with the idea to sculpt replicas of the wreck, using water, salt, clay, algae and glass. The temporary installation called Shipwreck is a sealed echo of former times. It captures a moment suspended between the past and present. The glass aquarium symbolizes the ocean – a preserver of history and a space of constant change. The process itself is a reflection of time, loss and the way nature eventually reclaims all things. Earth is like a vast archive, storing the traces and memories of ages long gone. 

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Edith Karlson

(EE, b. 1983) 

Past and Future
Can’t See 

Past and Future is an installation which depicts the two-headed calf that the artist purchased at a second-hand shop in Estonia. Karlson received very little information about this object: it was made in the 1960’s by an unknown farmer who either did this creature as a sculptural experiment by sewing together two heads from different calves, or it is a stuffed naturally two-headed calf, which came to be born as such due to Soviet experiments or possibly environmental pollution. Thus, it would bear witness to repeated abnormalities which were happening during the Soviet era, such as the Chernobyl catastrophe that happened almost 40 years ago. The same is happening today, if we look at the wars around the world and the consequences they bring to humanity.  

© Augis Narmontas

Something different than two-headed calf staring at us with its four eyes is another of Karlson’s installations, a mermaid made of concrete whose title suggests that she can’t see us, surrounded by all disasters happening in the world, including wars, climate crisis, etc. The mermaid in the installation Can’t See is unlike the one we see in cartoons or movies – that human body tail and a head of long hair. This one has a fish head instead. In nature, fish eyes dry out after a few hours on the dry shore, and Karlson’s mermaid is frozen in concrete with open eyes so she can’t express herself. The mermaid preserves a long history spanning hundreds of years, reaching us from mythology which tells us that mermaids are creatures stuck between two worlds – land and water. This installation comprehensively represents the main theme of exhibition – soil and water.  

(L.A.) 

Varpas, ištrauktas iš Baltijos jūroje nuskendusio laivo Warre of Hull

1806 

(1806) 

The ship ”Warre of Hull” was built in 1802 in Great Britain, and was originally used for cargo purposes. In 1811 it was converted to whaling. Equipped with fishing gear and oil boilers, it was set to sail the cold and silent hunting grounds of Southern Seas. The sturdy oak hull of the Warre faced thundering waves and strong currents, while the crew spent long and exhausting months chasing the giants of the deep. In 1814, the ship returned with 300 tons of whale oil and six tons of whalebone. That same year, due to financial strains and legal disputes, the vessel was sold at auction and was no longer used for whaling. It made some larger journeys before sinking on April 12, 1823, near the harbor of Memel. Wind and ice broke the ship apart, leaving it barely recognizable.  

During the dive on 21st June 2020, the “Baltic Sea Heritage Rescue Project” team found the bell of the ship, which was recovered 2 years later. The bell is now a symbol of human ambition and fragility. Once it rang through the freezing fog and treacherous waves—now it stands as a warning call and a harsh reminder of what happens when the balance between human pursuit and nature’s power is lost.  

(Š.Ž.) 

Arturas Bumšteinas

(LT, b. 1982) 

Navigations (from the series Bad Weather) 

Wooden hand-crafted machines – mobile musical instruments, which the artist Arturas Bumšteinas names Baroque theatre noise machines – leaving the trails of delicate and theatrically hypnotic wind sounds. Sound brings us to the diverse epochal maps of meteorology, as artist Arturas Bumšteinas reveals in his performance. His team – performers – moves choreographed with machines around the space by turning forwards and backwards, by pulling up and down on these objects which evoke our ability to visualise weather forecasts in imaginary surroundings just by listening. In Bumšteinas’ performance Navigations from the series Bad Weather, the audience hears the decontextualised fragments of sounds, which create a dynamic and draw viewers into the nature circle, with sounds from our world.  

(L.A.) 

Nikita Kadan

(UA, b. 1982) 

Crater 

Crater – the word that Ukrainian artist Nikita Kadan uses for the title of his drawing, comes from the Latin word cratera which brings several meanings: mixing bowl, depression, volcano crater, basin of fountain, cup. In the context of artist’s work, every meaning could be brought to explanation although some in a rather direct and others in a metaphorical way. But they all depict the same meaning – Crater depicts the traumatic, tragical events. In the context of the war, “mixing bowl” portrays the image of bloody events – missile attacks on Ukrainian soil dropped by Russian army into the cityscapes and landscapes where they leave holes in the houses, ground, transforming humans into gutted bodies likewise mixing flesh with soil, water and concrete into a jumble. The news transmits us these images reminiscent of volcano craters seen from far away. In his art, Nikita Kadan explores post-communist social and political developments, but since Russia invaded Ukraine he has been focused on revealing the consequences of war. In his drawings, paintings, photography, objects, sculpture and installations he make loud visuals about the trauma humans are experiencing in Ukraine and around the world. He is not just spreading the traumatic stories about the meaning and significances of war through his artistic attitude but he is also a dedicated activist (co-founder of the activists’ group Hudrada) in art and politics inviting people to discussion and most importantly to action.  

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Viktoriia Rozentsveih

(UA, b. 2001) 

My Temporary Blanket
My Temporary Windows 

Different panoramic views can be seen through artificial windows, drawn on film with acrylic paint, depicting several places that Viktoriia Rozentsveih lived in after Russia invaded Ukraine. Her hometown of Nova Kakhovka was occupied by the Russian army and she was forced to leave to safer surroundings. Sometimes, lacking of her own bed, the artist came into her memories about childhood, family gatherings and her grandmother’s lace napkins which used to decorate celebration tables. They echoed the history of her identity, family traditions, happiness, liveliness, warmth and hospitality. Everyone used to share their stories and experiences back then, sitting around the table. They used to share their knowledge and experiences of significant moments of particular days, months or years. While living in a foreign country, the artist took shelter in all those thoughts and she created the My Temporary Blanket thinking of the closeness of her relatives, of memories she absorbed through the years living in her motherland of Ukraine. The napkins the artist found in Germany but that she compared with the ones that her grandmother made. How powerful our memories are. Little things, smell, taste or touch can bring us to the desert of our psyche. White, peaceful, delicate textile could raise an emotional traumatic anxiety response. Imagine how many of grandmother’s lace napkins are lying now under the ruins of houses in Ukraine. And here within this work the artist raises the question which is relevant to many people whose future was changed by the war and who became emigrants now – where is my home, which is my native view through the windows, where can I find comfort and warmth again?  

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Kris Lemsalu

(EE, b. 1985) 

Phantom Camp 

Two heads of dog-like creatures emerge from sleeping bags with their tongues sticking out. Their eyes are covered with fragile but gentle-looking female hands. Their tenderness suggests confidence – securing animals from facing something that might provoke anxiety, fear or even madness. From the first glimpse, it seems that Kris Lemsalu in her installation Phantom Camp proposes some absurd ideas, but in fact she embodies a rather essential notion – a critical view on life and death – a theme which is very common in the artist’s creativity. Phantom Camp recalls the idea of migration – the never-ending situation lasting hundreds of years. Lemsalu combines Murano glass, which she ordered manufactured in Venice, and the uncanny green sleeping bags, which she bought in a store. Luxurious and delicate Murano glass symbolises the precious and unstable life of humans and animals, meanwhile casual sleeping bags represent shelter, maternal care or the womb if we also take into account the female hands covering the creatures’ faces. 

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Zhanna Kadyrova

(UA, b. 1981) 

Palianytsia 

In 2022, Zhanna Kadyrova and her family were searching for an escape from her hometown of Kyiv. Her mother, sister and aunt fled to Germany; meanwhile the artist didn’t want to leave Ukraine and she searched for a safe place in the Carpathian Mountains, in the countryside, till she found the ruined house with few people living there. The artist stayed there for several months meanwhile renovating house and searching for material to work on her artistic approaches. Once she walked on the shore of the mountain river and saw stones nicely polished by water. Her friend asked her: “What are you going to do with these stones?” And she answered: “I think they might be a good material to work with.” She collected many of those stones, which testify to the history of thousands of years. Stones which witnessed diverse global and national disasters, romantic moments and again traumatic experiences. Stones which absorbed the noise of air raid sirens, the cry of humans who were hiding in their surroundings, stones which were touched by the exhausted survivors’ feet. Kadyrova has noticed a reminiscence of a great polished stone to the palianytsia (a large round wheat loaf, baked in an oven). This Ukrainian word which was difficult for Russians to pronounce became a “weapon” against the enemy and a significant symbol: thanks to this word Ukrainians could recognise Russians dressed in civilian clothes who were collecting information. The word bread in the Ukrainian language saved many lives as the enemy was distinguished from the real inhabitants. As the artist states: For the first 2 weeks of the war, it seemed to me that art was a dream, that all twenty years of my professional life were just something I had seen while asleep, that art was absolutely powerless and ephemeral in comparison to the merciless military machine destroying peaceful cities and human lives. Now I no longer think so: I see that every artistic gesture makes us visible and makes our voices heard!  

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Ivar Veermäe

(EE, b. 1982) 

Second Earth 

An installation called Second Earth suggests that Ivar Veermäe reflects this artistic/scientific concept within his work. It looks like a utopian idea but the artist still tries to playfully to collect evidence of climate change. His experiment is based on imagination; as the artist states: “<…> the work generates a contrast with neo-colonial fantasies of space conquests by depicting fragile and helpless, at the same time suspicious object in enormous and hostile, somehow calm environment.” Indeed, the spherical object, the protagonist of the two videos shown on tablets, was recorded at 30 km up, in the stratosphere, then started to fall down when the helium balloon, which lifted the object into the sky, burst. Veermäe is a scientist, but with the credo of do it yourself (DIY). He was working on research in the stratosphere, which acts as a protective layer for the oxygen-based lifeforms, but is also where carbon dioxide accumulates, causing climate change. The object he launched to the space is made from polystyrene foam mixed with dried plants, pulverized oil shale and ashes; within the artistic process he brought the inhabitants of mother Earth to unfamiliar space, space which we can be part of just by watching a close-up, very engaging and active video recording of being brought back to earth.  

(L.A.) 

Paulius Šliaupa

(LT, b. 1990) 

The Monk 

At the beginning of Paulius Šliaupa’s video montage The Monk, one sees changing views and sounds of the storm that covers the surface of our land with snow. It evokes the nostalgic feeling of a cold wind colouring your cheeks red while you innocently catch snowflakes as the snow crunches with your every step. The sense of calmness starts to disappear when, little by little, the increasingly visible human being disturbs the feeling of peace and tranquility in nature. This disruption is further emphasized by the fact that some of the scenes are actually not frosty scenery but eternal chemical snow created by phosphogypsum mountains. The film holds up a mirror to society, stating that that’s what we humans tend to do – because of our desire to live easier and faster, we sometimes recklessly disrupt the natural balance. With every step, with every footprint in the snow, we leave a mark, exposing not just our existence but also destruction and the need to change the natural environment. The film by P. Šliaupa creates an invitation to slow down and reflect on the delicate connection between humanity and nature. Artists call on humanity to think before we bring such harm upon our future.  

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Jaan Toomik

(EE, b. 1961) 

Father and Son 

Seen from far away, a figure approaches us skating on the frozen Baltic Sea. Suddenly, we recognize the naked human and shivers conquer our skin until the video ends and starts again. Time’s dimension is very short in Jaan Toomik’s video work Father and Son but since the image is repetitive, the viewer is forced to freeze but still listen to the soft and tender Gregorian chant, the repetitive singing by the artist’s son, as well as the image of Toomik turning in a circle around the camera conveys to us the trans experience. The scene is minimalistic and simple due to the whiteness around and the only action being skiing. The naked artist as snow covered ice recalls the idea of nature and primordiality – we were born naked and the nakedness insists on what is real and true. Toomik’s short video work suggests various interpretations. It also refers to the biographical tragedy: Toomik lost his father when he was nine years old.  

(L.A.) 

Eero Alev

(EE, b. 1983) 

Hope 

Adults tend to perceive the natural world and their surroundings in a more muted way compared to children – often as a result of daily responsibilities and stress. Eero Alev’s oil painting “Hope” allows you to immerse yourself in early memories when the world seemed much brighter and purer. The inspiration for this piece came from Eero’s time by the coast. Immersed in the soothing sounds of the ocean and the gentle rhythm of the waves, he experienced a spark of inspiration that ignited his artistic expression. As the rich earthy colours merge, the oil-painted canvas leads you astray in the labyrinths of recollections. It travels you back to the summer when you spent days carelessly running barefoot through the dewy grass, building sandcastles, and leaping over the waves in the salty sea. Every stone, every hidden corner, and every winding path felt like the beginning of a new adventure. This painting creates a multi-dimensional illusion of space that represents how memories build up over time. The artwork captures moments of childhood spent in nature and a pure inner light that can be lost beneath the everyday struggles of life. The title “Hope” reflects the artist’s desire to inspire viewers to reconnect with their inner child and rediscover the vitality and beauty of the natural world.  

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Mindaugas Gapševičius

(LT, b. 1974) 

Love Letters to My Fellow Humans 

The installation Love Letters to My Fellow Humans showcases interconnected artworks, including an artificial jellyfish. A life-form imitation, mimicking life while lacking its soul. It breathes without air and swims without instinct. Though these creatures are aesthetically appealing, they still cause internal discomfort. These non-organic shapes created by the artist reflect the fragile relationship between nature and human progress. Crafted from plastic and digital elements, the jellyfish represents more than just delicate, floating figures. They serve as a visual metaphor for the pollution that is increasingly taking over and damaging the natural world, especially our oceans. Synthetic materials and electronic components are embedded into the organic environment, becoming part of M. Gapševičius’ artwork and the illusion of life. Powered by solar energy, the artificial jellyfish record images and various ecological parameters in real-time. This artwork is a tangible reflection of where technology and life begin to merge. It is both a warning and a question — can we still distinguish between what has been naturally created by nature and what is the result of human-caused harm, or have the boundaries already dissolved?  

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Zoya Laktionova

(UA, b. 1984) 

The Unheritage Project 

In 2022 Russia invaded Ukraine and destroyed most of the Donetsk region, including Mariupol, Zoya Laktionova’s hometown. Fields that once were vibrant and full of nature are now a gloomy grey, filled with the sulphuric and metallic smell of gunpowder. After losing a place she once called home, Z. Laktionova decided to showcase a photography series called The Unheritage Project featuring two acts: Destruction and Restoration. The first act is a photograph of chalk on slides found in a school in the Donetsk region that was destroyed by Russians. It’s like an artifact or a remnant of a place that once was filled with joy and laughter but is now silent and turned to dust. The chalk, a simple and natural tool previously used for education, represents the growth of a new generation that was damaged due to the ongoing war. The second act of the Laktionova photography series is digitized negatives from family archives. From the very first look, they give a nostalgic feeling of warm and cherished moments that now are frozen in time. These saved and preserved images are a tangible reminder of the freedom people once had and for which they are currently fighting so hard. With her art, Z. Laktionova shows the harsh reality encountered by Ukraine and gives hope to experiencing recovery and peace across the land so that future generations never have to hear the sound of a gun.  

(Š.Ž.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Marharyta Polovinko

(UA, 1994 – 2025) 

Works from the series Untitled 

Bombed schools, amputated body parts, wounded women, men, children, couples in love kissing by the bloody tree, a distorted human sitting on a chair reminiscent of a Francis Bacon figure, Russians portrayed as animals, skeletons and monsters, shelters, torture cells, portrayals of dead or beloved ones, household courtyards inhabited by children and adults holding each other hands, human shooting themselves to the head so as not to be imprisoned, dead and wounded bodies “shielded” by real artists’ blood which layers the surroundings.  

Marharyta Polovinko was an artist who dedicated the last years of her life as a volunteer for evacuating wounded soldiers from the front line. A year ago, she joined the armed forces of Ukraine. Polovinko died during the military mission in the war zone. The artist reflected war experience in the drawings that she made with her blood and a pencil. She stated: “With a pencil, I simply illustrated the primal fear. When the rethinking came, the understanding of reality became deeper, and the ‘monsters’ disappeared. That’s when the material of blood appeared. It was necessary to extract the material not from the surface, as it was with the pencil, but from the depth.” Polovinko suffered and struggled a lot by experiencing the scenes of ongoing war. Scenes from cities and nature which all depict bleeding humans, animals, landscapes and rivers in her own blood. She used to see the reminiscence of red in the surroundings of her hometown of Kryvyi Rih, where her family home stands near the quarries. She reminisced once: “Ore is like the blood of the earth, the same iron. I associate these quarries with the wounds of the earth created by people. I feel Kryvyi Rih as something absolutely constant and immovable, but it played a big role for me in understanding the war.” 

Marharyta’s art works left to us traumatic, horrifying, influencing evidence. She was one of those who were brave and who challenged, she was the one who sacrificed her life for our safety, freedom and truth. Even though her artworks haven’t reached the exhibition space, she will be always remembered among the art community.  

(L.A.)

© Augis Narmontas

Lina Albrikienė

(LT, b. 1984) 

Let’s Make the World Great Again 

The figure is sitting on the beach chair looking into the horizon of the Baltic Sea. From the first glimpse, the picturesque, round shape photograph suggests idealistic, romantic and promising feelings. However, the title Let’s Make the World Great Again leads the viewer to an accurate idea of the artist’s reflection within the installation. Albrikienė, who is also a curator of the exhibition “And the Wind Will Take Us Away,” expresses her anxiety about the future of humanity and global issues which again and again have an impact on the field of nature. The artist did this photo while she lived on the coast of Latvia, where she moved to before the pandemic started. Albrikienė was not able to visit her relatives in her homeland of Lithuania, due to restrictions in crossing the border. But she used her time creatively and made many staged photography and video works along the Baltic coast. This was her world at the time, the world made of sea, wind and beach sand, her constant companions as she strolled the unpredictable surface of the coast. The artist always descended into the profundity of the colour blue, which absorbed her emotions and thoughts about the past and the future. For her, the present was just somewhere out there, on the furthest curving line which she could manage to perceive so far. Some days, Albrikienė joined to the clear, infinite horizon, while on other days, to the curious, furious waves shifting every time she blinked. Nature played her role by lending the artist the feeling of freedom and solitude.  

The wooden architectural fragment of installation was built from an old floor collected from the theatre lodge. The podium hides a story of performance: artist saw the palette during the storm in the Baltic Sea in Lithuania and tried to reach it in the waves but unsuccessfully. The next day, Albrikienė found it thrown on the beach, soaked with water. The idea of theatre and the concept of consumerism are disclosed in the materials used for installation. Her work is the summary of all exhibition concepts depicting themes of globalisation, trades, consumerism, migration, climate change, wars, loss, etc…. 

(L.A.) 

© Augis Narmontas

Text authors:
Lina Albrikienė, Šeila Žilinskaitė 

Editor
Michelle Abramowitz 

© Stasys Museum, 2025