Alina Kopytsia

I first met Alina at Galerie Calabrò during one of our vernissages. She arrived with her little baby a fragile, small figure, yet with an incredible aura of inner strength. She somehow embodied a generational line of motherhood, a deep wisdom inherited through generations of mothers, great-grandmothers, and beyond, combined with an extremely modern sense of confidence and strength.

I was immediately drawn to get to know her. It did not surprise me to discover that she is an artist. Just like her presence, her work combines fragile pieces of vintage fabrics and lace, reaching deeply into traditional crafts historically assigned to women. At the same time, she addresses subjects such as feminism, sexuality, equality, and diversity, topics which, in modern society, one might assume have already been worked through, yet somehow remain a grain of salt in many circles.

For this interview, I met Alina at her studio in Zürich on a beautiful spring day. Once again, I was struck by her calm yet very warm aura, an old soul, one could say. The message of her art resonates strongly without ever being loud. Captured through the lens of Salvatore Vinci, we are offered a glimpse into the world of Alina Kopytsia.

Interview by: Paulina Calabrò

Photography by: Salvatore Vinci :

salvatorevinci.com

If someone encountered your work without any context—no titles, no texts—what would you hope they feel first before they start to “understand” it?

Typically, titles and additional text don’t play a major role in understanding my works. My goal is to tell a story in a single image, combining elements from various contexts. My ideal viewer should be familiar with these contexts, recognize all the references, and “read” the message in the work without additional text. Well, this is the ideal scenario for every artist. I hope the viewer’s first impression is formed by the overall atmosphere and sense of a universe full of joy and playfulness that my works convey. And hoprfully, later the viewer will become aware of the questions and important themes raised in my works.

You grew up with a strong connection to textile traditions—do you remember an early moment when you realized this would become part of your own artistic language?

As a child, I used to sew clothes for my dolls, first by hand and later using a sewing machine. My parents thought I might become a clothing engineer, but I was quite certain that I wanted to be an artist. From the age of twelve (relatively late by Ukrainian standards), I focused on studying academic drawing until I was twenty-two. My first fabric collage dates back to 2011, when my mother brought me a pile of linen samples of the same size from her workplace. I embroidered twelve female figures of identical scale on separate pieces of fabric and then sewed them together into a 120 x 160 cm composition. The figures have no faces; instead, they are distinguished by different hairstyles, shirts, and objects they hold. These details express their individuality and prevent them from becoming impersonal. I titled this work Women After a Night of Love in Men’s Shirts. Since then, I have continued to work with a similar principle, repeating a series of the same-sized figures while varying their details. The size of the figures and backgrounds is often determined by the pieces of fabric I have available. I am drawn to the idea that each piece of fabric carries its own history, much like textile art itself, which is rooted in traditionally female practices and forms of resistance. It took time for textile collage to become my primary medium.

“Already at the age of fourteen, I created a large-format nude self-portrait using the paper collage technique. “

Your work deals quite openly with gender, sexuality, and power. Was it always natural for you to approach these themes, or did it take time to feel confident addressing them?

Those topics were present from the beginning. Already at the age of fourteen, I created a large-format nude self-portrait using the paper collage technique. I exhibited it in the children’s art school, where I was studying, which was pretty bold when I look back. Since then, these themes have been central to my work, except for a brief phase 2008-2013 of material experimentation and upcycling activism.

Were there women—artists or from your personal life—who influenced the way you see art or your role in it?

As a child and teenager, I had access only to information about classical art and literature. I wish I had been exposed to more female artists at that time, as my early inspirations were shaped by male artists and male figures in literature. In my twenties, with the rise of the internet, I gained access to a much broader view of contemporary art, including the work of many influential female artists. One of the most important for me was Louise Bourgeois. I attended her retrospective at the Centre Pompidou in 2008, and both her work and her life left a strong impression on me. I was also deeply influenced by Tracey Emin, particularly her textile-based works that deal with intimate and personal sexual experiences. Later, I discovered Billie Zangewa, who explores themes of motherhood and “daily feminism,” in beautifully made silk collages. And of course, many other artists are inspiring me now.

You studied both in Kyiv and later at ZHdK in Zurich. Did you feel a difference in how art—and especially feminist or political art—is approached in these contexts?

The educational experience in Kyiv and Zurich was profoundly different. In Ukraine, the focus was primarily on developing strong academic drawing skills. In contrast, ZHdK offered an environment with excellent infrastructure that encouraged experimentation and the development of an individual artistic practice. Feminist or political art was not present in the curriculum during my studies in Kyiv, and at ZHdK it was less prominent than I had expected. I began to engage more deeply with these topics after completing my first degree. At that time, after the Orange Revolution, political or so-called “socially engaged art” was highly present in the Ukrainian art scene.

When you look back at your earlier works from your student years, do you still recognize yourself in them?

The works I produced as part of assignments during my studies feel quite formal to me now, which were primarily exercises in academic drawing, without personal expression. In my limited free time, I continued making paper collages, a practice I had started earlier, though I never presented them at the university. Looking back, there are still some pieces from that period that I find interesting. During my second degree, which was not so long ago, I already had a clearer sense of my artistic direction. I continued working with the themes that interested me, while also learning how to present my work, speak about it, and place it within a broader context.

With everything happening—personally, politically, geographically—what helps you stay grounded outside of your work?

My family, my friends, my daily routine.

Find Alina Kopytsia online:

alinakopytsa.com/

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