On Lina Herrmans’ body of work

The first impression is of the upper world reflected onto the floor, as if someone had begun to construct a building technology of their own here. Upside down and in a dream.

The brightness of a metal. Pieces of something that no longer exists. Glimpses of something that does not yet exist. The arrow of time twists and turns. Disintegration blends with emergence, aluminium bends effortlessly into a new position.

When the gaze stops, it focuses on the breaks, on the small details. Where there was supposed to be no flexibility, there is an impression of a fingerprint. The unyielding material has yielded. Perhaps materials can sometimes be encouraged to surpass themselves.

Fasteners that bind the air.

Empty space connects the works to each other with invisible threads.

And a miniature concrete column, that quietly mocks the architecture of the entire institution.

Herrmans’ works do not appear as objects, but as situations. The air around the sculptures vibrates. I see traces of movement, but also of something else, something for which there are no words. The space attunes into an open field, where I find different feelings instead of explanatory interpretations. Instead of the center, I look at the gaps. The feeling of space is delightful. There is no solution, because there is no problem either.

Text: Alsa Ojala