Tides happen in cycles. The sea rises and falls, it is never static and it never rests. In the same way feelings originate and dissipate inside the mind and body. In this exhibition, Alina Vergnano tries to capture and give a shape to diverse and contrasting emotions, to their natural yet unexplainable coexistence, to their fluid movement, as they unexpectedly morph one into another.

In between figuration and abstraction the lines of Alina Vergnano sinuously trace confines of bodies and suddenly tangle into black nests of doubts, into blurred clouds. Her charcoal drawings are instinctive, raw and they emerge from layered, washed backgrounds. The monochrome sculptures that are juxtaposed to the drawings have a tangible presence, yet they speak of the immaterial; they have the weight of stone and the lightness of daydreams.

“Tides” is Alina Vergnano’s first solo show with S.P.G and the exhibition revolves around the interaction between sculptures and drawings. The interplay between the tridimensionality of ceramics and the crispy and fragile surface of paper reflects the incoherence of feelings: their intensity and levity, their roughness and evanescence – as new meanings arise in the space between.

Alina Vergnano (Italy, 1989) lives and works in Göteborg, Sweden. She has a bachelor degree in illustration and animation from the European Institute of Design in Turin, Italy. Her practice is based on drawing, ceramic, video installations and murals. Since 2012 her work has been exhibited in galleries and public art festivals in different countries in Europe and Asia, including Sweden, Germany, Denmark, Italy, India and Taiwan. Her latest solo show was at Freedom Men Gallery in Taichung, Taiwan and she has recently participated in group shows at Galleri Thomassen and Galleri Magnus Winström in Göteborg, Sweden.

A sea of salt,
an inner assault.
A tide coming
from underneath
from within,
carrying me up
towards silver
clouds, agitated
sand, as my body
swims into this

Drifting my way to
the heart, I follow the
veins to the fingers
and the touch of
the waves, the
moon is a navel
of my own skies,
looking inwards
I see outside