Visual artist
Born in Geneva, lives and works in Vienna.
She lived and studied in Florence, Cambridge and Barcelona.
about my work…
“Objet trouvé”
I’m interested in the abandoned object, the waste-object that I, the artist, discover because of its aesthetic qualities which – in my eyes – are pure poetry. This has to be distinguished from the concept of “ready-made” as defined by Marcel Duchamp.
I love to stroll across fleamarkets, antique shops, garage sales. This is where I find objects, small machines that today nobody uses. In these forgotten items I discover the beauty of their humility; behind them there is someone who built them and learnt the trade from his father, from his grandfather. These pieces are the result of hours and hours of work, by somebody with a lot of experience who realized them with an almost perfect technique. On the other hand I am a logical person, I’m interested in the technology and I want to understand the way they function.
Born in Geneva, lives and works in Vienna.
She lived and studied in Florence, Cambridge and Barcelona.
about my work…
“Objet trouvé”
I’m interested in the abandoned object, the waste-object that I, the artist, discover because of its aesthetic qualities which – in my eyes – are pure poetry. This has to be distinguished from the concept of “ready-made” as defined by Marcel Duchamp.
I love to stroll across fleamarkets, antique shops, garage sales. This is where I find objects, small machines that today nobody uses. In these forgotten items I discover the beauty of their humility; behind them there is someone who built them and learnt the trade from his father, from his grandfather. These pieces are the result of hours and hours of work, by somebody with a lot of experience who realized them with an almost perfect technique. On the other hand I am a logical person, I’m interested in the technology and I want to understand the way they function.
Material and techniques
Material and objects that I keep and that are part of my universe accumulate in my studio; I know that some day I will use them: corks, a current transformer, fragments of china, brass plates, aluminium sheets, Plexiglas, ropes, etc.
I’m a trained goldsmith and I’m acquainted with the task of soldering, of forging. The object I discovered by coincidence or the capricious shape of a metal piece inspire me and this in some way predefines the future shape of the sculpture. Usually I begin with a drawing that projects the shape of the piece, even though later, during the working process, I might apply small changes. In the studio I assemble the parts of the sculpture, it takes some time until the definite outlines show.
Material and objects that I keep and that are part of my universe accumulate in my studio; I know that some day I will use them: corks, a current transformer, fragments of china, brass plates, aluminium sheets, Plexiglas, ropes, etc.
I’m a trained goldsmith and I’m acquainted with the task of soldering, of forging. The object I discovered by coincidence or the capricious shape of a metal piece inspire me and this in some way predefines the future shape of the sculpture. Usually I begin with a drawing that projects the shape of the piece, even though later, during the working process, I might apply small changes. In the studio I assemble the parts of the sculpture, it takes some time until the definite outlines show.
Equilibrium – construction
My sculptures could be defined as “equilibrium in harmony”. When I build them I have to take into account the forces and counterforces so that they keep their balance, which isn’t always easy.
My pieces are never symmetrical and the weight and the proportions are always human: at the most a little more than my arms’ length. I want the viewer to feel the human intervention in the handling or the strength of my hands, as well as the precision of the tools I used in the construction.
My sculptures could be defined as “equilibrium in harmony”. When I build them I have to take into account the forces and counterforces so that they keep their balance, which isn’t always easy.
My pieces are never symmetrical and the weight and the proportions are always human: at the most a little more than my arms’ length. I want the viewer to feel the human intervention in the handling or the strength of my hands, as well as the precision of the tools I used in the construction.
Light
Light is very present in nearly all my pieces. It simply fascinates me and I admire historical figures such as Moholy Nagy, who – rather than a photographer or a painter – was essentially a visual artist of light.
Many of my pieces change completely due to the effect of light, according to where they are placed. I often use material such as Plexiglas, that allows transparencies, or fluorescent Plexiglas, that attracts light capriciously. I work with metals that allow different gradations of lustre according to how I grind and polish them. Light is essential to my sculptures and any change of its incidence alters the formal concept.
Light is very present in nearly all my pieces. It simply fascinates me and I admire historical figures such as Moholy Nagy, who – rather than a photographer or a painter – was essentially a visual artist of light.
Many of my pieces change completely due to the effect of light, according to where they are placed. I often use material such as Plexiglas, that allows transparencies, or fluorescent Plexiglas, that attracts light capriciously. I work with metals that allow different gradations of lustre according to how I grind and polish them. Light is essential to my sculptures and any change of its incidence alters the formal concept.
Humour
There is nothing more remote from my work than a sense of the “sacred” in art. I like to define my pieces as a hotchpotch of possible metaphors, there is always a sense of playfulness. As a Swiss I identify with an entire tradition in the art of my country – from Jean Tinguely’s useless machines to the films about objects by Fischli and Weiss, that are full of humour and an ironic wink of an eye at the sanctification of art, the solemnity of its existence.
There is nothing more remote from my work than a sense of the “sacred” in art. I like to define my pieces as a hotchpotch of possible metaphors, there is always a sense of playfulness. As a Swiss I identify with an entire tradition in the art of my country – from Jean Tinguely’s useless machines to the films about objects by Fischli and Weiss, that are full of humour and an ironic wink of an eye at the sanctification of art, the solemnity of its existence.
