The art market might be crumbling, but curators continue to keep every relationship afloat. This, at least, has been my takeaway from Vienna, where I find myself wearing two hats this season: one as curator of Crime as Ornament at Crone Gallery, part of the Curated by project, and another as a media partner of the fair. The second hat feels most comfortable, as I wander through the sections curated by Francesca Gavin and Bruno Mokross. Here, galleries intertwine seamlessly with remarkable artworks by local talents including Nanna Hauser, Sebastian Schachinger, and Evy Jokhova. In moments like these, it becomes clear that curation remains a vital force—guiding, connecting, and weaving narratives even amid uncertainty.
This brings me to The Color of Energy, an exhibition inside the fair as a “Statement”, curated by Mirela Baciak, who similarly employs her curatorial vision to address the urgent flows of energy in our contemporary world. The exhibition features fifteen local and international artists, each using color as a metaphor to explore global crises: the red of heatwaves (and blood), the green of grass (and money), and the black of soil (and oil), and pollution. This conversation with Baciak, fellow hyphenate worker and the director of the Salzburg Kunstverein, centers on this exhibition, where art not only reflects but actively engages with the pressing issues of our moment, from climate anxiety to the legacy of settler colonialism.
AWC: This exhibition is the most political you can get at an art fair, without tokenizing the artists these days, I would say. You are referring to the common points where a struggle suddenly generalizes, but you use abstraction instead of generalization, which I consider remarkably refreshing here at the viennacontemporary. But this is, of course, only my reading. Can we reflect together on the chapters of the show and discuss them further?
Mirela Baciak: The Color of Energy reflects my wish to offer an understanding of different energy flows and how they make our world go round. I have been working on this two-part show for over a year and my primary interest came from the need to grasp fossil politics. I was initially inspired by the way oil spills, if you see one on the street next to a petrol station, and the sun hits it, you can see how it reveals and holds within it different colors. I think that every energy source holds a spectrum that is complex and complicated. It’s not just that green signifies good or black signifies bad. Another important inspiration was the film The Color of Fear by Lee Mun Wah. So in a way, the aim of the show is to also pluralize our associations, and reflect the debate on energy and unsustainability through the medium of the exhibition.
AWC: I think the primary colors of energy within the context of this exhibition are people, money, and geopolitics. As you said, it’s more about pluralization than synthesis. How energy is maybe not just a metaphor — can you deepen that notion a bit more?
MB: Yes. For example, we operate with references including the Ed Hawkins Warming Stripes, which represent rising global temperatures. But now those colors — especially the deep reds — are somewhat outdated because we’ve already surpassed the point they represent. For me, thinking in color is, of course, metaphorical. Red can be the color of rising temperatures, but it’s also the color of blood. Green, often seen as the color of renewable energy, is also the color of money. The whole exhibition plays with these associations without being too literal. Take Katrin Hornek's Testing Grounds, for instance. The work is part of her ongoing research on nuclear testing, and you can see these small turtle sculptures, each of which holds an iPhone.
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AWC: This particular work goes beyond words in some ways. The turtles are used as carriers of messages because their shells, or carapaces, are strong enough to symbolize the ability to bear nuclear waste. Katrin received emojis and messages via WhatsApp featuring them from various scientists during her research. The whole thing is quite fascinating. And turtles are also major victims of industrial fishing.
MB: Exactly. These turtules are archives of nuclear fallout, symbolizing both the resilience and susceptibility of nature to human endevors. And they’re situated in what looks like a Zen garden here, which introduces a spiritual element that contrasts with the messages carried by the turtles. Another work which touches upon nuclear energy are the large-scale paintings of Veronika Hapchenko, an artist from Ukraine, now living in Poland. She explores the theme of radiation in these paintings, but also the figure of the engineer and the artist. The USSR-born artist Ivan Lytovchenko who was the artist behind the famous mosaics on the buildings on Lenin Avenue in Pripyat [offers one example of that duality for Hapchenko]. The expansive diptych demeter, after Ivan Lytovchenko reflects a once-utopian vision that tragically culminated in the catastrophic Chernobyl disaster of April 26, 1986. Hapchenko describes the mosaics as prophetic, encapsulating the transition from energy to ecological concern, while highlighting Lytovchenko’s connection to governmental influences within the Pripyat region. Another painting is called Engineer, the neon touches bring to mind something nuclear, something we can’t quite see.
AWC: It also feels like a nod to the invisible forces that shape us.
MB: Yes, and similarly, Sara Bezovšek's work plays with this idea. She uses found footage — memes, scenes from movies, excerpts from daily news related to climate change — as a way to explore climate catastrophe. I refer to this work as the credits at the end of the world. The work begins with techno-utopian images but quickly shifts to images of burning forests and a more dystopian view. Sadly, some of the images we see in the work could have been a live stream of what we have just experienced in Austria and neighboring countries due to the heavy floods.
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AWC: Is that quote, “Nothing like the end of the world to put things in perspective,” from a specific film?
MB: I’m not sure. It’s a mix of sources, but that’s her point — these images have no authors, they are taken from our daily algorithmic present. The piece also exists online, you can access it through the QR code in the exhibition booklet. (link on footnote)
AWC: That’s great — so I can listen to the soundtrack online too?
MB: Yes, the soundtrack is fantastic, and it’s all accessible online.
AWC: So the exhibition is preparing us for dystopia — or dreaming of it?
MB: If it could… I hope it might contribute to the building up of the resilience that we need and will need more of, but, as I said, all that we can see in the work is already happening.
AWC: Can we now jump into the featured works by Judith Fegerl too?
MB: Yes. Judith Fegerl literally works with electricity. The series full spectrum which is produced especially for the show depicts a series of electric shocks. Initially, solar panels in the studio capture the sun’s energy, which is then used to immerse the stainless steel canvases in electroplating baths, completing the artistic process.
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Judith Fegerl: Hi, I’m Judith. Yes, I use solar electricity from the panels in my studio to create these works. The electricity interacts with the material in an electrolytic bath, making its mark as pure energy.
AWC: Hi, I’m María Inés. A pleasure to meet you. So, these works show different moments of energy accumulation.
JF: Exactly — each piece represents a different moment in the process.
AWC: As Pure Energy. Beautiful.
MB: There’s also a touching piece by Shubigi Rao, titled These Petrified Paths, based on her research into the geopolitical and environmental intricacies of the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict. She’s been documenting the devastating effects of a largely unreported war on the land — much of it is unusable, as even grass can no longer grow there — and its connections to global oil politics, which are influenced by the interplay between Russian and European energy needs. The film also intertwines these themes with the concept of knowledge as a form of energy. She equates the transmission of knowledge, particularly through generational wisdom and practices such as lace-making, to the transfer of energy. These practices, conducted by elder women and shared in intimate, communal settings, underscore the vital role of cultural continuity and oral traditions in sustaining community identities and resisting the erasure of history.
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AWC: What’s happening in one of the videos where the image seems to be pulled offscreen?
MB: That’s a glitch — it’s distorting the image just as these forces distort the landscape. And here is Linda Lach’s work; she’s a young artist from Poland. She studied physics before she turned to arts, which you can see. Her interest lies in understanding how fragile or sensitive data is maintained and protected, drawing parallels to ecosystems and homeostasis. For example in Endless Memory Dilation she uses levitating human milk which introduces a biological element that contrasts with the industrial feel of metal and glass, creating a dialogue between the organic and the inorganic.
Linda Lach: Hi. I'm Linda.
AWC: Hi! What an impressive central work you have placed here with a cup of levitating milk!
LL: (Smiles) Yes, well, as you may notice, I'm working at the intersection of art and science, questioning what it’s like to have a connection between human beings and machines, between humans and technology in such a way that I’m looking at technology without setting any goals for it. Not pushing it into some state where it should work properly. For example, with this levitator I’m using, I just wait — seeing if everything’s okay; and if the temperature is right. Technology shouldn’t be forced. I’m not against science, as a human being, I just observe. Waiting isn’t a waste of time. It’s a form of resistance.
AWC: I wonder how, or maybe you can explain to me, how this form of resistance manifests in your work, particularly in this levitator piece. You mentioned waiting as a form of resistance, and that’s quite compelling.
LL:
Yes, since I’m a former physicist and familiar with programming, I’m also keen on studying GPUs (Graphics Processing Units) for my own use. GPUs are parts of a computer that make high volume data processing more sustainable. Essentially they are a type of peripheral brain for the computer. So when I talk about ‘sharing memory,’ in a GPU, memory is distributed in multiple places, not in one single spot. If you have information, it gets spread out, like word after word after word. When memory is shared, you have the full sentence. If it’s not, you only get fragments. That’s why I reuse information over and over in my artistic practice, making charts from the data I learn each day. I repeat this process to create a statement or a sentence, and this repetition represents an axis of my practice.
AWC: So this is like the culmination of a practice or exercise?
LL: Exactly, learning about GPUs and how they handle shared memory in computers.
AWC: Please excuse my ignorance, but what exactly is a GPU?
LL: It’s a general-purpose processing unit. It handles high throughput memory and data processes in computing, essentially.
AWC: I guess the materials are also quite important here for making that process tangible, as you’re using oxygen tubes, right?
LL: Yes, and also breast milk. The use of breast milk is significant in the context of balance — it sustains a newborn for several months.
AWC: Is it a search for equilibrium, or a form of balance?
LL: Both. I’m always searching for something that connects me to technology in a calm and gentle way. That’s why I use translucent materials, so you can see through them without being overwhelmed. It’s present, but not overt. This layering effect, translucent material on translucent material, allows light to refract and create clouds or drops, making it appear foggy yet intriguing.
AWC: Can you share more about the dialogue between you and the machine when this memory software produces sentences?
LL: Right now, I'm trying to learn with something called “Perplexity”, which is like a more advanced version of ChatGPT which doesn’t hallucinate. Every day, I ask questions like, “What would extend battery life?”Then, I record what I’ve learned from it and create the final information.
MB: There are actually two more works in this Chapter. Goliath, Draugen and Maria, from Liv Bugge, a Norwegian artist whose practice centers on Norway’s oil and what it does to Norwegian identity. One of the new works she made for this exhibition is a series of postcards tracing different representations of oil and how it is represented in art history, but also in fairy tales, etc… Liv mapped the three main oil fields Draugen, Goliath, and Maria into these clay sculptures. There’s also a video with excerpts from a somatic experience session Liv did with a group of Norwegian women, giving them crude oil and recording their interaction with it and what memories it evoked.
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Last, but not least we have Guan Xiao's expansive installation called The Sunset. It features a lightbox that animates the hues of a sunset sky, alongside two whimsical, creature-like sculptures crafted from polyurethane-coated wood, car rims adorned with the Google logo, and artificial floral decorations. For Guan Xiao, the surface of the lightbox serves as an interface where the tangible and intangible, as well as the online and offline worlds, intersect. And juxtaposed with Guan we have Ursula Mayer. These are younger works by Ursula Meyer from 2014, I dug them from her studio apartment. These sculptures blend glass with cast animal organs such as hearts and tongues. Mayer, like Xiao, provokes reflection on the interfaces between humans and machines, inviting viewers to reconsider the boundaries and connections among these entities.
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AWC: Like the colors of Instagram. These flowers, are they real or fake?
MB: This is all artificial nature. These plastic flowers, branches — they’re not real. The material is noted in the booklet. Even the sun in the lightbox isn’t real.
AWC: What a ride, thank you, Mirela, for making energy intimately necessary and scary as it can be.
MB: Please come to see the second chapter in Salzburg. It might be even scarier.
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VCT STATEMENT: The Color of Energy
Co-Produced with Salzburger Kunstverein
Curated by: Mirela Baciak; Curatorial Project Assistant: Erka Shalari
Chapter I: The Color of Energy: Sara Bezovšek, Judith Fegerl, Ursula Mayer, Veronika Hapchenko, Katrin Hornek, Sophie Jung, Linda Lach, Shubigi Rao, Guan Xiao, Liv Bugge | viennacontemporary, September 12–15, 2024
https://www.viennacontemporary.at/en/vct-statement-the-color-of-energy-2/
Chapter II: The Color of Energy: Bertille Bak, Edson Luli, Oleksiy Radynski, Agnes Scherer, Shubigi Rao, Emilija Škarnulytė, Ursula Mayer, Guan Xiao, Sophie Jung | Salzburger Kunstverein, 21 September–24 November 2024
https://salzburger-kunstverein.at/colorofenergy
With the kind support of ERSTE Foundation
Supported by Trampoline, Association in Support of the French Art Scene, Paris
- IMAGE CREDITS
Cover: Veronika Hapchenko, demeter, after Ivan Lytovchenko, 2023, acrylic and ink on canvas, 160 x 335 cm, courtesy the artist and ING Collection.
fig. 1: Katrin Hornek, testing grounds [Atoms for Peace], 2024, 7 Messengers (usable objects): Smartphones with programmed interface in individually processed concrete, latex, and polyurethane casts; Basin: Bending plywood, pond liner, marble gravel, 5,5 x 1,6 m. In collaboration with Karin Pauer, Sabina Holzer, and Zosia Hołubowska. Exhibition view, The Color of Energy, VCT STATEMENT: ENERGY 2024, photo: kunst-dokumentation.
fig. 2: Sara Bezovšek, www.s-n-d.si, 2021, filmstill, courtesy the artist.
fig. 3: Left and right: Judith Fegerl, full spectrum, 2024, brass, copper-plated with solar energy, each 86 × 66 cm, 2024. Courtesy the artist and Galerie Hubert Winter. Middle: Linda Lach, Endless Memory Dilation, 2024, glass, human milk, steel, aluminium, levitator, 160 x 190 x 40 cm. Courtesy the artist and wanda gallery. Exhibition view, The Color of Energy, VCT STATEMENT: ENERGY 2024, photo: kunst-dokumentation.
fig. 4: Left: Shubigi Rao, Linear AyB, 2023, Full HD digital film, colour, single channel, 04:56 min, courtesy the artist. Middle: Shubigi Rao, Watermarks, 2023, photoprints on Hahnemuhle photo-rag 300g/m2, courtesy the artist. Right: Shubigi Rao, Untitled, 2023, video on CRT TV, sound, 01:02 min, courtesy of the artist. Exhibition view, The Color of Energy, VCT STATEMENT: ENERGY 2024, photo: kunst-dokumentation.
fig. 5: Liv Bugge, Goliat, Draugen & Maria, 2021, HD video, 23 min, stereo sound, color, courtesy the artist.
fig. 6: Guan Xiao, The Sunset, 2012, LED light box, artificial flower, colored metal, rims, resin, lightbox: 308 × 158 × 10 cm, small sculpture: 50 × 45 v 40 cm, large sculpture: 80 × 55 × 55 cm, courtesy of Mercedes-Benz Art Collection. Exhibition view, The Color of Energy, VCT STATEMENT: ENERGY 2024, photo: kunst-dokumentation.
