Erka Shalari: How did it feel to receive the invitation for a solo show at UGM? And, what were the first ideas that came to mind when you encountered the space?
Gala Alica: The invitation for the show came after my participation in the 10th Triennial of Contemporary Art U3—Against the Stream of Time at the Museum of Modern Art, Ljubljana. As part of the triennial, a network of partner organizations was created to collaborate with the participating artists on future projects. On that occasion, I also received the 10th Triennial of Contemporary Art U3 Award (jury: Anne Barlow, Bernard Blistène, Luigi Fassi, Christelle Havranek, Simone Sentall), making this first institutional solo exhibition, stemming directly from that project, feel all the more special.
When discussing the exhibition with curator Tevž Logar, we already knew we wanted to produce a new body of work. My practice is often site-specific, or at least site-responsive, developing projects with a particular place in mind: researching and deconstructing the exhibition space, then responding to its tensions and characteristics. As I knew little about the history of UGM | Maribor Art Gallery beforehand, I was surprised to discover that the building dates back to the 14th century. Jure Kirbiš, the UGM curator, generously showed me every room during our gallery tour, especially the storage rooms and depots, where I became aware of the many layers of time embedded in the building. Walking through the back rooms felt like navigating a maze, never quite predicting what lay around the corner. We came across an array of objects, discarded architectural elements, and pieces of furniture belonging to the institution. Some were over a hundred years old, while for most, their exact origin and former place within the building remain unknown.
I became fascinated by these “obsolete” objects and the idea of returning them to the space they once inhabited. I sought to work directly with the elements and respond to the exhibition space by creating a kind of open field of tensions between the old fragments, my contemporary interventions, and the architectural character of the space, rather than dwelling on historical facts and narratives.
I wanted to explore how to address these themes sculpturally, beyond the documentary modes typically associated with filmmakers or photographers. In doing so, I examined the relationship between past and present, material and meaning, showing how history is constructed through and with concrete things, their displacement, and their recontextualization.
The exhibition revolves around four newly produced works that engage with the history of the gallery. How did the forms take shape, and what was it like to produce for this exhibition?
Although I have so far mostly produced artworks with a specific exhibition or site in mind, my practice remains very much studio-based. This was also the case this time. The discarded materials I selected from the institution, chosen in a spontaneous, bodily response rather than a rational decision, were transported to my studio in Vienna. Many more materials caught my attention than the ones I eventually used for the new works. It was important to me (and also a privilege, since it is not always possible) to have the time to work with them in the studio over a longer period and to understand how I wanted to translate them through material processes. Since completing my bachelor’s degree in sculpture in Ljubljana and now finishing my studies in Sculpture and Space at die Angewandte in Vienna, I have consistently been drawn to working in three-dimensional form. Engaging with material remains the aspect of art-making I enjoy most, even though I sometimes need quite a lot of time (perhaps too much, in my own view) to research, develop a concept, and determine the direction of a project.
How do the works engage with this transformed material environment? Tevž Logar describes them as being intertwined with a contemporary material language. I’m particularly struck by the subtle additions you’ve made—such as pedestals and metallic handles in False Arch, or the drilled iron components in Sight in Flight. Could you speak more about this balance between continuity and transformation?
I was exploring how discarded objects, which can sometimes feel dusty or overly historical, might be brought into a contemporary sculptural language through the use of materials from our current built environment, such as MDF boards, iron, and metal. I was interested in how these elements could gain new meanings while still retaining the marks and traces of the past that they already carry within themselves. Taking Sight in Flight as an example, which is composed of five different wooden windows once belonging to the UGM building, I tried to create a new, slightly eerie sculpture that shows the usage marks on the wooden frames, while combining them with polished metal so they do not feel too nostalgic.
Babnik, courtesy of the artist
Each of the works seems to engage directly with the architecture—reshaping the passage, the vault, the floor, and the walls. I get the sense that the pieces almost emerge from the space itself. How did you conceive their positions?
As I was interested in establishing specific spatial relationships between the works and their environment, the objects are not simply placed in spots where they work well, but were conceived for their exact positions. The already mentioned Sight in Flight, which deals with the second passage, is a movable sculptural object that can be dragged to close the doorway or pushed to the left, making the doorway usable again. It marks the end of the exhibition, but also focuses the viewer’s attention on the next room and the continuation of the building. In False Arch, for example, the wooden support arch, which has lost its original function, is turned on its back and lifted into the air. In its “lightness”, it no longer needs to hold weight, but is itself held.
The piece continues the line of the ceiling arch, creating a tunnel-like focal effect in the space. In doing so, it underlines the transitory character of the space. The works at the entrance of the exhibition, Marker I and Marker II, made from an old wooden transport box from Yugoslavia, mark both the height of the entrance and the thickness of the walls. One “transports” oneself through this deconstructed object (once used to transport artworks) into the exhibition, while becoming aware of the eighty-centimeter-thick historical wall.
The gallery floor—beautiful, dominant, and at times difficult to work with—was something I wanted to engage with directly. I decided to place only one element on it: Glass Physics, made from the glass doors of old archive cabinets. The work “archives” the surface and architecture of the space; its transparency directs our attention even more intently to the floor while almost disappearing into it. One cannot see one without noticing the other.
Do you collaborate with studio specialists in developing materials or during fabrication?
It is important to me to produce most of the works myself. It is not only because I enjoy working with materials and constructing things, but also because, through the process of making, the work continues to evolve, often in ways I could not have foreseen. This has been possible thanks to my continued access to the studios and excellent workshops at die Angewandte, where I can always ask for help or advice from the workshop assistants. Having experienced artists around, who are open to sharing their technical knowledge and perspectives, is something I deeply value and will miss after finishing my studies. I hope to build a similar environment around me in the future.
I believe one’s artistic practice always reflects the possibilities and circumstances one is in, and I am curious to see how mine will continue to develop and transform over time. For now, I am drawn to working with different materials, often on a relatively large scale, simply because I am fascinated by it, but also because I currently have the framework to do so. I know this might not always be possible in the future, but the process itself will keep shaping whatever comes next.
Why has working with discarded materials been important to you from the very beginning?
It started quite naturally when working on temporary, site-specific projects. When creating a sculptural work that lasts only a week, you quickly question the material, ecological, and financial aspects of building something so ephemeral. I realized I am drawn to discarded materials, which carry embedded narratives: the patina of their prior functions becomes a starting point, suggesting forms and tensions I might explore. These materials resist pristine newness and demand recontextualization. When the objects I incorporate are part of everyday life, viewers more easily connect with the works through their own past experiences. For a group exhibition in Taipei, for example, where I knew I couldn’t take the work back home, I used materials freely at hand: leftover remnants from past projects by students at TNUA, Taipei National University of the Arts. These became part of my sculptural intervention, placed next to new works by the same young artists who had made them, creating an interesting twist in a work that otherwise dealt with the architecture of the exhibition space.
Seeing your portfolio, one notices a clear and persistent grappling with space, intimate and public. What sparked this interest in space for you?
I became more deeply interested in public space and its challenges when I came to Vienna to study. Having a dog at the time and walking with him around this much bigger city, I noticed foreign elements like small, low-lying green fences guarding almost every patch of land along the streets. Not only did my dog Rumi jump over nearly everyone, but I also observed subtle differences in urban planning and public space design compared to my hometown, Ljubljana. The nuances might be small, but they felt strong to me, especially since the feeling in public space partly mirrored how I felt emotionally when I first arrived. Vienna has a clear strategy for shaping public space, differentiating and regulating every square meter with predetermined functions. I found myself missing Ljubljana’s larger, wilder green areas: the parks and parts of streets left open without prescribed activities, (unintentionally) allowing for self-creation and community building. Many factors explain this difference, like city size, the level of public space development, and local habits, but the contrast remains present. Being a foreigner in a city allows you to see things differently, with fresh or outsider eyes. The relationship between the individual and the urban space around her_him, the relationship between two individuals within public space, or between an individual and a collective body—all these social dynamics are strongly reflected in and based on how we design the spaces around us and also in how we feel within them.
of the artist
My earlier works dealing with public space were more conceptual and less focused on form and aesthetics. In recent years, I have become increasingly interested in architecture and in working directly with the spaces at hand, like in the exhibition at UGM. Sometimes these spaces already carry a certain problematic within them; other times, my focus turns more toward the poetic architectural character of the space. In a way, my approach to working with space has become a framework in itself: a system built around certain limitations but also clear intentions and interests, through which I can more easily navigate new projects.
How do your sculptures reach beyond the space they occupy, spilling, slipping, and unfolding through it?
I think this gesture developed over a couple of projects, but at the same time comes quite naturally from how I experience space. Architecture is never just a neutral container for the work, but something that influences it and is influenced by it in return. I am often drawn to the moments when the boundaries of a space become unstable, when the work starts to question where the space actually begins and ends.
In works like Edge I & II (2024) or No Loitering II (2023), I explored the physical limitations and tensions of the site (like a railing or fence) and how a sculptural element can reach beyond it, making the viewer notice it in a different light. The 6th Floor (2025) stemmed from a similar curiosity, delving into what happens when an architectural boundary becomes flexible rather than fixed. When we think of the exhibition at UGM, Sight in Flight works in a parallel way. Its form mirrors the shape and size of the doorway it covers, as if it evolved from it. Through its movement, it also activates the doorway and the room beyond, changing how we move through the space. I enjoy when a work feels as if it has always belonged there, like its own small parasite or a kind of architectural mutation.
What’s next for you—upcoming projects, shows, or ideas you’re excited to explore?
I’d be interested in presenting these works in another space. While I mostly show objects only once, in their intended sites, I’m increasingly drawn to displaying them in different contexts. I still fear they might lose their ground when uprooted from their primal space, but perhaps that very tension is worth exploring, revealing how these fragments of foreign spaces respond in a new environment. I’m also planning two group shows: one with friends in Vienna, the other, Invisible Cities, at Galerie der Künstler*innen in Munich in July. After these intense past months focused on my own practice, I look forward to more collaborative work.
Exhibition: Gala Alica – The Cabinet
Curated by: Tevž Logar
Exhibition duration: 27.02. – 2.04.2026
Address and Contact:
The UGM | Maribor Art Gallery
Strossmayerjeva ulica 6, 2000 Maribor, Slovenia
www.ugm.si
Gala Alica – www.galaalica.com, www.instagram.com/galaalica/
Gala Alica (b. 1999, Ljubljana) explores the human experience within urban space through her sculptures and site-specific installations, focusing on how architecture and material environments shape feelings of intimacy, alienation, and belonging. She is completing her master’s degree (MAG) in sculpture at the University of Applied Arts Vienna, and holds a bachelor’s degree (BA) from the Academy of Fine Arts and Design in Ljubljana. She has also studied at the University of Art and Design in Linz, Austria, and Taipei National University of the Arts in Taiwan. Solo exhibitions include The Cabinet (UGM | Maribor Art Gallery, Maribor, SLO, 2026), Small Parts, Isolated and Desired (Jochen Hempel Gallery, Leipzig, DE, 2025), Not All That Persists Prevails (MoTA – Museum of Transitory Art, Ljubljana, SLO, 2024), Someone’s Land (Gallery Alkatraz, Ljubljana, SLO, 2022), and Generated Views (Gallery Nova Izložba Pešak, Ljubljana, SLO, 2022). Her works have been exhibited in numerous group shows, including U3—10th Triennial of Contemporary Art in Slovenia: Against the Stream of Time (MG+, Museum of Modern Art, Ljubljana, SLO, 2024).
The UGM | Maribor Art Gallery was established in 1954 and is the central public museum of modern and contemporary art in the north-eastern part of Slovenia. The UGM systematically studies, documents, collects, preserves, protects, exhibits, and presents Slovenian art from the beginning of the 20th century to the present day, while bringing current trends from the international art scene to the local audiences. The UGM organizes exhibitions ranging from solo presentations of recent art to comprehensive and thematic exhibitions of modern and contemporary art. In 2026, the UGM will expand into the City Hall of Culture Rotovž, a new home for books, film, and art in Maribor.