Featured in the current Art Academy of Latvia show “I Am Art”, on view at Kronvalda bulvaris 4 from June 14 to 29, 2025.
The Lost Renaissance
(The Lost Rebirth)
(The Lost Rebirth)
How do you show what is no longer there?
How do you reveal what has been lost?
Is it possible to create a space that stirs something within?
A space that gently turns our gaze inward?
How do you reveal what has been lost?
Is it possible to create a space that stirs something within?
A space that gently turns our gaze inward?
What is lost can only be found by shifting our perspective. We find it not by looking harder, but by noticing what blocks our view—
and choosing to see beyond it.
and choosing to see beyond it.
At its core, this installation is a search for the lost.It reflects on veiled vision — on the blindness of presence and perception.
It speaks to the choice not to see, the act of drawing a curtain over what truly matters.
It speaks to the choice not to see, the act of drawing a curtain over what truly matters.
Inspired by Renaissance thinkers, I search for the fragile crack — between humanity and nature, between conformity and individuality, between vulnerability and the desire to be unseen or insignificant. I ask: where does our time go? What do we carry forward? In the rush of our era, have we lost something essential?
This is a return to the Renaissance as an idea — a recognition of the value of human life. This work is an attempt to reopen a space for thought, where life is seen as meaningful, vulnerable, and transformative. It seeks to stir inner movement, inviting reflection on the veils of our time— those that distract, conceal, and turn us away from ourselves.
A form of reminder:
What is veiling your vision?
What is veiling your vision?
First Curtain: To go further, you must lean down
A simple gesture becomes a physical metaphor — embodying a core insight of Renaissance thought: the path to growth and understanding begins with a reconsideration of the self. It is not a path upward, but first — inward. This curtain invites a shift in orientation, a pause, a moment of reflection. Progress begins not with striving, but with turning one's gaze within.
Second Curtain
Voluntary submission.
It speaks to an inner contradiction: how the human being, in search of truth, often looks outward rather than inward. In adapting to the forms imposed by society, we begin to forget how to think with our own inner voice — with our own being.
What begins as a desire to belong can quietly transform into self-abandonment.
Third Curtain :
Reconnection with nature.
This curtain reflects on our increasingly fragile bond with the natural world. Nature has not disappeared — it is still all around us — yet more and more, it becomes merely a backdrop. Even when we are outdoors, we often remain beside nature, not truly within it — unable to meet it with our full presence. And yet, we are still part of it. Nature is not only “out there” — it is also “in here.”
What is fading is not nature itself, but our capacity to feel it. In this distance, we become strangers not only to the earth, but also to ourselves.
Fourth Curtain
Belonging.
Belonging.
This curtain reflects on the human longing to belong — a need that, while deeply rooted, can quietly lead us away from ourselves. In the search for connection, we often adapt to the shapes imposed by society, learning to fit in at the cost of our own uniqueness.
It speaks to an inner contradiction: as we reach outward for meaning and truth, we lose touch with the voice within. The more we conform to external expectations, the more we forget how to think with our own being.
FINAL
An open window. A butterfly paused mid-flight.
An open window. A butterfly paused mid-flight.
The final curtain. A moment of stillness, openness, and quiet contemplation. The space is nearly empty — only a window and a small stool remain.
Through the window, the view opens not to the ground, but upward — to treetops and sky. When seated, one sees nothing but the heavens. The gaze is lifted, freed, unbound — reaching beyond limits.
The window becomes a metaphor: for thought, for freedom, for breath and light. It is not only an opening for light to enter, but for possibility.
A chance to see — and to be seen.
A space to simply be.
A quiet invitation to encounter one’s own thought.
A chance to see — and to be seen.
A space to simply be.
A quiet invitation to encounter one’s own thought.
With this, I want to resist the modern inability to sit still — or at least offer the viewer a space where stillness becomes possible. Creativity is born in emptiness. A new thought begins where the pull of attention ends.