This exhibition does not take place inside a gallery. It begins on a path. We walk deep into a gorge — a space shaped not by human hands, but perceived as an exhibition. Nature here is not a backdrop, but a co-author. We enter a narrative where every step is part of the installation.
This is an initiation route: collapsed trails, a stream that speaks with the voice of the past, fallen trees composing an invisible script. We must slow down, lean on overhanging roots, walk “not in our own shoes.” Through embodied participation, we become part of the exhibition.
At the journey’s end is a round rock niche — a stage, a theater of memories. Within it lies a mirror, buried beneath dust. Clear it away, and you will see yourself. Or rather, who you have become by walking this path.
Key “exhibits” :
Embracing Transition — the moment when the past ceases to define the route.
Working with Absence — where emptiness becomes the theme and medium.
New Tactility — discovering the world’s textures as an artistic language.
The “Reflection Hall” — the journey’s climax. Nothing is added here except the mirror beneath the sand. We are the main exhibits. Yet the way back is closed: the only exit is upward — a vertical ladder, stairs, daunting but leading to liberation.
We have walked this path together. Will you walk it with us?
Installed on May 14, 2024 Zsolnay Quarter, Pécs (Hungary) Materials: apple, acrylic
The golden apple embarked on a journey through the historical labyrinth of the Zsolnay Quarter — between time and space, history and modernity, art and the street, matter and reflection.
The apple did not merely travel through the quarter — it entered the exhibition space, becoming for a moment part of the “official” history of the Zsolnay Golden Age, but then stepped beyond its boundaries once again, dissolving into the real environment.
Its journey was documented in a series of photographs: the apple reflected the sun, glided across the textures of the space, as if tasting the matter of time. Each frame is a moment of choice between motion and stillness, disappearance and presence.
The choice of location became the culmination. The offering took place beside one of the two ceramic Sphinx sculptures guarding the staircase. In that moment, the reflection from the golden surface altered the expression on the Sphinx’s face. Was it an illusion, a play of light, or the past come to life, accepting the gift?
The project invites reflection on how values, both material and immaterial, move through time, transforming meanings and leaving a trace in our perception.
From the authors: “We left the apple there, by the Sphinx. What happened next? We don’t know, but we can imagine several scenarios.
Perhaps the Apple disappeared—someone took it. Maybe it was a passerby who saw value or mystery in it. Maybe a tourist took it as a souvenir, or a child believed they’d found a magical artifact.
Or the Apple remained in place but changed—rain and wind began to wash away the gold, revealing the living matter beneath the surface. It began to decay, becoming part of the urban environment, vanishing somewhere between art and nature.
Perhaps the Apple became part of the Quarter—someone moved it elsewhere, continuing its journey. Maybe it appeared by another sculpture, or ended up inside one of the Zsolnay ceramic workshops.
We like to believe the Apple turned into a legend—even if it disappeared physically, its story remains. Someone will tell it again, someone will search for its traces, and someone might catch a fleeting glint on the Sphinx’s face and remember this moment.
In this context, the Apple is a temporary guerrilla sculpture—installed without permission, yet altering the perception of the space. It intervened in the environment of the Zsolnay Quarter, entered into a dialogue with the Sphinx, and disappeared, leaving behind only memory and photographic trace.
This offering was a fleeting gesture, but it sharpened the boundary between presence and disappearance, art and everyday life, the material and the symbolic.”
On the northern edge of the Hungarian village of Gyenesdiás, nestled on the slope of Pipa-hegy hill, lies a forgotten landscape — an abandoned dolomite quarry. Its pale grey walls preserve the memory of the ancient Tethys Ocean: more than 200 million years ago, during the Upper Triassic period (237–205 million years ago), warm shallow seas accumulated lime-rich sediments composed of the shells of tiny marine organisms. Through the action of microorganisms, these deposits transformed into a dense, compacted mass of calcium and magnesium carbonates — dolomite.
Covering an area of approximately 400 × 400 meters, the quarry is now silent and overgrown. It is divided by a narrow ridge into a spacious eastern section and a smaller western one. The eastern basin is particularly striking: nature has sculpted ravines, terraces, and canyons whose almost fantastical forms resemble an ancient amphitheater. The slopes and ledges are largely covered with black pine and brushwood, and each groove or outcrop feels like a mark left by both geological time and human intervention.
Once, the quarry supplied valuable materials for construction and industry. Dolomite was used as aggregate in building, as flux in metallurgy, to neutralize acidic soils and enrich them with calcium and magnesium in agriculture, as well as in the production of glass and refractory materials. [ 123 ]
Today, with its industrial role long gone, the quarry returns to nature — and simultaneously opens itself to artistic contemplation and action. As part of the series “The Quarry as Witness,” we approach such places as living archives: not only of geological memory, but of the potential for interaction between human presence, form, and time.
As part of the Deerland art festival in September 2020, we conducted a series of artistic explorations in the old quarries around Gyenesdiás, Hungary. One of the key events was the creation of The Native Deer — an ephemeral geoglyph formed in an abandoned dolomite quarry on the hill of Pipa-hegy. The project became a spontaneous yet profound collaboration with the landscape itself, where natural forms revealed the image that was meant to appear.
Originally, we planned to work in another pristine white quarry, but upon arrival discovered it was again under excavation. We had to change location quickly and chose the old, forest-overgrown quarry. We descended to a light clearing that intuitively called for action.
TheSzamorodni Deer, 2020 (process and details)
Our original sketch — a two-headed elk — didn’t match the terrain. But the natural streams and grooves already suggested another deer’s form. I merely “revealed” it with pigment splatter. Later, a heart appeared in the center, turning into a sun. (Instagram)
Meditation inside the deer and Performances around
A week after the geoglyph was completed, we conducted a performance inside its outline — a physical alignment with the symbolic shape. The body tuned into the place, activating its latent presence. (Instagram 1234)
Spiral with a Deer Hoof Stamp
Using a sponge stamp in the shape of a deer hoof, we created a double spiral: coiling inward in ochre, then unwinding outward in red. From above, the form resembled spiraling time — folding and unfolding. (Instagram)
Cave Deer
Next to the site, we found a man-made cave — likely carved out during stone extraction. Inside it, we staged a photo performance titled Cave Deer: shadowy images on the walls like memory archetypes. This added a subterranean dimension to the project, deepening the connection between human, stone, and symbol (Instagram)
This work belongs to our practice ofRR-method — an approach where the artist does not impose a new form, but listens attentively and reveals what is already present in the landscape. Here, the environment itself acted as both witness and co-author.
Although nothing went as planned — we changed location, abandoned the original idea, and adapted the technique — the result was unexpectedly precise. We simply uncovered what was already embedded in the place.
That’s how the Samorodny Deer appeared — an ephemeral trace shaped by streams, stones, and light. A month later, it vanished without a trace, as intended. What remains is memory, and the documentation.
But most importantly, what remains is the experience of co-creation with the land — where the quarry was not just a backdrop, but a protagonist.
