The exhibition by artist Karina Synytsia takes place in one of the rooms of a former villa, now serving as a residency for Ukrainian artists in Italy. In this project, she deliberately brings together two seemingly unrelated contexts: architectural details from her native city and the setting of a 1970s Italian villa with its baroque ornaments.

In the exhibition, scrolls with painted fragments of ruins emerge from old cabinets and sofas, attempting to crawl into the space, evoking doomed tragedies. The reliefs depicted in the paintings appear as silent witnesses of such tragedies in Kharkiv today.

Within this space, a dialogue unfolds with Água Viva — Clarice Lispector’s book, written on the edge of philosophical essay, poetry, and living confession. Born in 1920 to a family of Jewish refugees from Ukraine, Lispector carried throughout her life a memory of loss, displacement, and fractured identity. Fragments from the book are scattered across the space chaotically, intersecting and accompanying the objects — the paintings and old furniture — as if with a voice. These everyday things, which one day began to whisper like ghosts or hallucinations, speak not only of aesthetic memory but also recall trauma.