You see the white cube, I see the hospital walls

You see the white cube, I see the hospital.

As soon as you enter the gallery space, you find yourself in what seems to be the setting of a ward. A patient’s ward — where everything is governed by a single state: the attempt to heal.

This is not simply about an instrument. It is about healing — the process of restoring a person who has been wounded and is trying to become whole again. The organ pipes no longer sound like an instrument. They sound like breath — interrupted and returned. Like a voice searching for its form after trauma.

The work of Margarita Wenzel unfolds precisely within this tension — between the organ as an instrument and the organ as a body.

You see structure.
I hear vulnerability.

This space may recall the austere poetics of Joseph Beuys, where trauma becomes material, or the bodily fragility in the work of Mona Hatoum. There is also an echo of absence, as in Anish Kapoor.

At the same time, another line emerges. A silence akin to that in the work of Lee Ufan, where pause becomes the event, and connections like those of Chiharu Shiota, where memory is held by invisible threads.

White on white is not purity. It is the memory of hospital walls, where body and voice are separated. And here, sound no longer belongs to mechanics.
It belongs to the one who was broken — and is still trying to sound.