Samuel Leuenberger: The title of your exhibition, Trembling Empire at Lázně Liberec, curated by Tea Záchová, suggests that significant changes are underway. It’s emotive, powerful, and carries a somewhat unsettling undertone—especially given how many people are unprepared for big transformations. Could you elaborate on what inspired this title?
Zsófia Keresztes: The title “Trembling Empire” is deeply personal, reflecting a life situation where I must harmonize various aspects simultaneously to prevent the collapse of the system. I perceive this not as a process but as a state, symbolizing human relationships, personal boundaries, and the complexity of self-identity. From a broader perspective, the title alludes to societal norms that govern social life, which may now be losing their stability. Initially, I was drawn to the word “empire” for its powerful evocation of dominance and large structures. However, pairing it with “trembling” casts a shadow over the classic image of stability, introducing notions of fragility and vulnerability. This juxtaposition touches upon inner conflicts and questions.
SL: You’ve mentioned that the exhibition connects the female body, nature, and human relationships, exploring their shared fragility and resilience. It also reflects on the roles women navigate daily whether as artists, mothers, professionals, or visionaries. These pressures are enormous. How do you balance these realities internally in your studio and home, and externally in your exhibitions?
ZK: Navigating different systems and roles is challenging for me, as I cannot completely separate one situation from another, leading to blurred boundaries. I carry my anxieties, guilt, and enthusiasm into the studio, incorporating my daily experiences into my work. I believe this process is reciprocal; I bring insights from my artistic practice back into my family life.
In the studio, I strive to create unity from diverse materials and forms, mirroring my efforts to find harmony in my personal life. This approach helps me sustain and nurture my various identities by allowing them to coexist without exclusion. I find distance particularly difficult to handle, making participation in exhibitions especially challenging. Being close to my family is essential, and when it’s not possible for us to travel together to an exhibition, I struggle with the separation.
SL: The introduction of fabrics into your sculptures feels like a natural progression in your practice. How do you think this shift changes the monumentality or formal interpretation of the work?
ZK: I began incorporating hand-sewing techniques into my work to introduce a sense of intimacy. Since 2017, I’ve been creating sculptures with mosaic surfaces. While preparing for the Venice Biennale, I had to delegate certain tasks, which I found challenging. However, it was also liberating, as I was under immense pressure at the time. Mosaic is a meticulous and repetitive technique where one can easily lose oneself. Facing tight deadlines, the meditative and calming experience of this monotonous work began to fade, even though I usually enjoy it. On the other hand, involving other helping hands in such situations not only leads to more efficient work but also fosters a sense of teamwork and personal connections. I felt that these energies became embedded not only in the exhibition’s concept but also in the sculptures themselves. However, after the Biennale, I felt completely drained, and my sculptures seemed increasingly distant from me. I began to miss the closeness I once had with them. When the acb Gallery requested an early textile piece from 2011 for a group exhibition focusing on textile art, I was reintroduced to a technique I had previously used. I became enthusiastic and realized that I missed this approach. The act of sewing brings a closer connection; while working, I almost embrace the form I’m creating. I enjoy how the spontaneous undulations and folds shape the form, which I then solidify through stitching. Naturally, this has led to a change in the scale of my works. Currently, these more embraceable pieces resonate with me more than the isolated, heavy, monumental figures.
SL: Your earlier works featured curved, mosaic-covered forms combined with materials like metal structures or chains, suggesting connections while setting boundaries. With this new body of work, it seems like you’ve broken through another barrier—perhaps similar to artists from the Arte Povera movement juxtaposed hard industrial materials with soft, organic elements. How do you trace this evolution in your practice?
ZK: I find great enjoyment in bringing together materials with different properties to form a cohesive body. In some areas, the soft textile parts cushion the rigid, glossy mosaic-covered surfaces, acting like a protective wrapping that shields them from damage. Elsewhere, these roles are reversed: the mosaic framework safeguards the textile forms like a skeletal cage, similar to how ribs protect internal organs. I appreciate the interchangeable and intertwined nature of these two distinct materials.
Connections to other Artists
SL: Your use of mosaic as a medium inherently reflects a process of assembling disparate pieces into harmony. Louise Bourgeois often used textiles and personal materials to evoke memory and emotion. How does the act of hand-stitching checkered textiles in your work deepen your connection to themes of care, vulnerability, and women’s roles?
ZK: For me, the process of sewing embodies a form of reformation and reunification, akin to healing a wound by stitching it together. This evokes notions of care, meticulous attention to detail, and the forging of enduring bonds. However, by alluding to wounds, it also reflects the burden of self-sacrifice.
SL: The stained checkered tablecloths evoke domesticity and familial roles, much like Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party, which used symbolic table settings to challenge stereotypes and historical narratives. How does your work address the tension between care, sacrifice, and societal expectations placed on women, particularly within the domestic sphere?
ZK: The checkered tablecloths appear as imprints of family dynamics. These textiles serve as tools for care, nourishment, and community building, while also reflecting the burdens of various roles. Before incorporating the checkered fabrics into my sculptures, I “soil” them by painting them with stains, envisioning a narrative where, over a set table, everyone pours out their frustrations and inner tensions.
These stains are the imprints of these struggles and inner doubts.
SL: You liken the hair strand to a hollow tree trunk, connecting the female body to nature’s resilience and fragility. Georgia O’Keeffe’s organic forms celebrated the strength and sensuality of the natural world. How does your imagery of roots, blood vessels, and butterflies challenge or reinforce traditional associations between women and nature?
ZK: In the motif of hair or fur, I see refuge—a safe place to hide, like the dense thicket of a forest, a tree hollow, or clinging to a mother’s fur, as animals do. However, these anatomical associations also carry connotations of vulnerability, fragility, and mortality.
SL: Your work shares conceptual and formal affinities with Niki de Saint Phalle, particularly in the use of mosaic and organic forms. Both practices transform fractured elements into cohesive wholes, reflecting themes of resilience and reconstruction. How do you see your 1 work inviting viewers to consider their own roles in processes of transformation—whether in identity, societal roles, or collective memory?
ZK: I don’t know, and honestly, it’s not my goal to direct their attention to anything or try to guide them. When creating a sculpture, many layers accumulate, and since I create quite intuitively, the meaning of a motif or form often develops later. Many times, the picture only comes together for me later, so I don’t aim to lead anyone to anything, even though, of course, I have many associations, some of which I’ve just mentioned.
SL: The headless, kneeling torso with a basket in place of the abdomen carries profound symbolism of care and burden. This resonates with feminist explorations of the body as a site of struggle and resilience. How does this sculpture reflect your perspective on the emotional labor women undertake in family and society?
ZK: My initial idea was to depict a figure having a picnic outdoors, and then somehow this scene came together in one figure. Perhaps the kneeling posture implies a kind of humility, and the empty basket could be seen as an invisible burden, but I also see in it a gesture of receptive openness, suggesting unconditional acceptance.
SL: The title Trembling Empire suggests instability, strength, and transformation. Feminist art has often explored the precarious balance between personal identity and societal roles. How does your work navigate this tension, and do you see your art as contributing to the redefinition of these roles?
ZK: I don’t believe I can provide any guidance or say anything new. I actually work with collective feelings, and I’m glad if someone finds this common thread and can connect to it. But I don’t know where we’re headed.
Art in the Public Sphere
SL: Your sculptures explore themes of connection and community through mosaics and organic forms. How do you see your work translating into a public art setting, where diverse audiences encounter it outside the traditional gallery context? Does the public sphere enhance or shift the meaning of your work?
ZK: Currently, I cannot envision such a public setting; I would feel arrogant if, for example, one of my works were visible in a busy square. I am still hesitant about it. Perhaps I could imagine something similar in a smaller community, in a semi-public garden, a smaller park, or some secluded place. And if I am thinking along these lines, I would like them to be accessible, not placed on a high pedestal. I would prefer to give them some function so that people can use them and become one with the forms.
SL: The imagery for your current exhibition draws heavily from nature—roots, trees, butterflies which are intrinsically connected to the outdoors. Many artists have used natural forms for sitespecific public art. How might your sculptures interact with or alter a natural environment when placed outdoors, whether in urban or rural settings?
ZK: On the one hand, as I said above, I would give them some kind of community formal function, but not in a very direct way, on the other hand, if they were in nature I would prefer the reverse, that nature shapes them, I would like to observe how vegetation embraces these forms.
SL: Public art often invites direct engagement with broader communities. If the hollow tree trunk or kneeling torso from Trembling Empire were installed outdoors, how might its accessibility invite interaction? What context or environment would best complement your work to facilitate the themes of care, resilience, and sacrifice?
ZK: I have not considered exhibiting these works outdoors due to their textile details, which are not suitable for such settings. However, I have previously displayed my works in natural environments for shorter periods and received numerous positive feedback from visitors. Being in a natural setting seems to make the encounter more direct.
Reflections on the 2022 Venice Biennale Presentation
SL: The scarcity of female artists who have had solo exhibitions in the Hungarian Pavilion highlights lingering systemic gender inequality. While your collaboration with curator Mónika Zsikla didn’t explicitly emphasise a female perspective, the historical context of your participation carried significant weight. How did the feedback during or after the Biennale affect you, both personally and professionally?
ZK: I feel that the critiques, especially the negative ones, have strengthened me. Although presenting new material still fills me with anxiety, I am no longer as afraid of criticism as I was before. I was pleased to receive feedback that the exhibition inspired the younger generation and that they were able to draw strength from it—particularly Hungarian emerging artists.
SL: Your Biennale exhibition, After Dreams: Dare to Defy the Damage, grappled with the tension between historical continuity and contemporary relevance, using mosaic as a metaphor for connection and identity in an increasingly fragmented, virtual world. The reference to “sacred connotations” suggests a desire to create work that resonates across time. Did you fear the possibility of your work being misinterpreted or failing to bridge the gap between historical and contemporary concerns?
ZK: That was not really my intention, and I was not afraid of misinterpretation. I got used to people interpreting these forms in very individual ways a long time ago, and at the beginning I tried to fight against interpretations that were completely alien to me, but I think it is now unnecessary to fight against them.
Samuel Leuenberger is the founder and director of SALTS, a non-profit exhibition space based in Birsfelden and Bennwil, Switzerland, dedicated to promoting interdisciplinary exchange and fostering dialogue with emerging artists. He is currently working on the third and final instalment of the Art in Public Space Project with Globus, in collaboration with the Fondation Beyeler. He was recently the curator of Art Basel’s Messeplatz Project and from 2016 to 2023, he served as the curator of Art Basel’s Parcours sector, which showcased site-specific installations, sculptures, interventions, and performances in public spaces and historic sites across Basel.
Leuenberger has contributed extensively to international exhibitions and programs, including many famous art spaces and institutions. Previously, he held roles at Kunsthalle Zurich, Christie’s Auctioneers in Zurich, and Stephen Friedman Gallery in London. From 2015 to 2020, he served as a committee member of Kunstkredit Basel, Switzerland’s oldest city arts council. Leuenberger is also a mentor at the Institute Kunst Gender Nature (HGK) in Basel and a jury member of La Becque Artist Residency. Recently, he was appointed curator of the 2026, 10th Biennale Gherdeina in South Tyrol and Plataforma’s 2026–27 exhibition cycle, a platform facilitating in-depth dialogue between artists from the Guadalajara region of Mexico and international artists.
