Pietà
solo-exhibition, AkademieGalerie, Munich, Germany, 2025
performance, 09:50’
sound: light sensitive sensor and electronic plate; sound composition 08:52’
costume: tiffany plate carrier (vest, tiffany glass plate 22x15,5 cm), metal rings, textile sleeves, shorts, reflective stripes
scenography: stained glass 150x75 cm, textile lines 80 m, reflective lines 35 m
light: 2 sound-sensitive stroboscopes
text: poem, written and composed from traditional Ukrainian mourning songs from Naddniprianshyna region
Ukrainian mourning songs play a central role in Tetiana Kornieieva's performance, but she interprets this traditional expression in a new way. Instead of the classic mournful singing, her voice is brought into focus through whispering. This conscious decision creates a unique form of expression that reflects the social and political upheavals in Ukraine's turbulent history, as well as personal and collective traumas. The whisper becomes a metaphor for the often silenced experiences of the country — quiet, suppressed, and long in the shadows. Kornieieva draws from the history of her own family, whose experiences of displacement deeply influence her artistic approach. At the same time, she incorporates the current reality of life in Ukraine. Her voice becomes a medium for making visible the stories of her ancestors and the contemporary struggles of her homeland. The project is titled Pietà, referencing the iconic image of Mary holding the body of her son after his crucifixion — a powerful symbol of grief and sacrifice. Building on archival research into traditional mourning songs from the Naddniprianshyna region — her homeland — Kornieieva identifies the most frequently used words in these songs. This vocabulary and its soundscape merge with the artist's own compositions, which mimic the sounds of radar systems and military communication. Electronic elements, including a light sensor integrated into the costume, respond to changes in light, reflecting the current reality in Ukraine, where projectors scan the sky for military targets. Visually, Kornieieva incorporates stained glass into her performance, using reflections that interact with light and space to evoke both fragility and resilience. This choice connects to the Ukrainian tradition of monumental art, deeply rooted in sacred and ritualistic painting. Historically associated with spiritual and communal spaces, stained glass embodies reverence and continuity. Kornieieva reintroduces this technique to honor its origin and reclaim its significance, using it as a bridge between the past and the present.
The minimalist color palette — black as a symbol of mourning and danger, and white, highlighted by light — enhances the emotional depth of the work. Metal and glass textures evoke associations with military equipment, while the stained glass images, reflecting light, resonate with spiritual and ritualistic elements. The olive color used in the costume is also a deliberate choice, referring to its symbolic significance in both religious and military contexts. In classical iconography, olive symbolizes peace, hope, and divine presence, often associated with the Holy Land and spiritual renewal. At the same time, the color carries strong military connotations, symbolizing camouflage and survival, especially in conflict zones. This duality is essential to the impact and intensity of the work. The interplay of whispering, light, sound, and visual elements creates an atmosphere of subtle threat and vulnerability. Kornieieva’s performance addresses hidden fears, the feeling of being a target, the role of women in times of upheaval, and the persistence of individual and collective trauma through memory and artistic interpretation. Her work bridges the experiences of the past with the reality of the present and invites reflection on the enduring strength of cultural identity amid adversity.
усім Матерям
Pietà
Куди ж ти йдеш, моя пташечко,
Та й не повертаєшся?
До кого ж ми тепер будемо
Правдоньку носити?
А туди ж і сонце не гріє,
І вітер не віє,
А туди ж і пісьом не шлють,
І відтіль не получають.
Скажи мені, моя дитино,
Коли тебе у гості виглядать?
Чи раннею весною,
Чи пізнею зимою?
Весною стежечки позаростають,
А зимою снігом позаміта.
Скажи мені, моя дитино,
Коли тебе у гості виглядать?
Прилинь, прилинь весняною порою,
Краплиною дощовою, зозулею садовою,
Буду тебе виглядати, у зозуленьки правдоньки питати,
Прилинь, прилинь, хоч пилинкою,
Хоч зійди у дворі травинкою.
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Та ти ж, сину, молодий та зелений,
Кого ж я буду бачити ці ночі?
Ой, лежиш ти в полі порубаний,
А тебе ж, в попелець вітер розносить.
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Відкіль вас виглядати,
Відкіль вас виглядати,
Доріжечки промітати.
Та із Заходу, чи Сходу,
А чи з Півночі, чи з Півдня,
До кого мені прихилятись?
І відкіль правді братись?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Та яку ж ти собі хатоньку знайшов,
Та смутну і невеселу,
Туди сонечко не загріє,
І вітерочок не завіє,
Там соловейко не щебече,
І зозулі не кують.
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Ой, Земле, Земле, Мати рідна,
Ти ж прийми його, як свою дитину,
Та покрий його м’якою травою,
Щоб йому було легко лежати.
Нащо ви нас покидаєте?
Текст створений на основі українських народних голосінь Наддніпрянщини за архівними матеріалами Інституту
мистецтвознавства, фольклористики та етнології НАН України.
to all Mothers
Pietà
Where are you going, my little bird,
And not returning?
Who will we now carry The truth to?
And there, the sun doesn't warm,
And the wind doesn't blow,
And there, they don’t send letters,
And from there, they don’t receive them.
Tell me, my child,
When will I wait for you to visit?
Will it be early spring,
Or late winter?
In spring, the paths will overgrow,
And in winter, the snow will cover them.
Tell me, my child,
When will I wait for you to visit?
Come, come in the springtime,
As a raindrop, as a garden cuckoo,
I will wait for you, ask the cuckoo the truth,
Come, come, even as a speck of dust,
Even if you appear as a blade of grass in the yard.
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
You, son, young and green,
Who will I see these nights?
Oh, you lie in the field, chopped down,
And the wind scatters you to ashes.
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
From where should I look for you,
From where should I look for you,
Sweeping the paths?
From the West, or the East,
Or from the North, or the South,
Whom should I lean to?
And from where should I take the truth?
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
What kind of little house have you found,
So sad and joyless,
Where the sun doesn’t shine,
And the wind doesn’t blow?
Where the nightingale doesn’t sing,
And the cuckoo doesn’t call.
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
Why do you leave us?
Oh Earth, Earth, my dear Mother,
Take him in as your child,
Cover him with soft grass,
So it will be easy for him to lie.
Why do you leave us?
The text is based on Ukrainian traditional mourning songs from the Naddniprianshchyna region, using archival materials from the Institute of Art Studies, Folklore, and Ethnology of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine.
curatorial support: Olena Balun
photo: Erika Vas
technical assistance: Julien Agot, Christi Arnautu, Sorina Arnautu
With sincere thanks to Michael Buhrs and the Museum Villa Stuck Munich.