From richness to death, a shift not just in tone but in movement. Meaning bends when purple escapes the stillness of an image and begins to flicker, breathe, unravel.
The exhibition carries purple from film into art, through the sensibilities and affective textures shaped by five artists. Five distinct readings of death, not always loud, not always final, but found in the small losses of the everyday, in the airlessness of routine, in the fading of human connection, in the quiet merging with digital selves and symbolic projections.
It opens with a QR code: Sally Bowles (Liza Minnelli) in a purple fringe dress, singing “Life is a Cabaret” in 1930s Berlin. A gesture of denial, almost joyful, and yet a tremor of what’s to come. The dress, vibrant and trembling, becomes an omen of the collapse that would follow.
Death is constant. It slips through personal grief, cinematic spectacle, silent transitions. But when it’s dressed in deep purple, layered, deliberate, unsettling, something shifts. It lingers. It warns. It holds.
If it’s purple, someone’s gonna die unfolds the dual nature of purple through two distinct lenses — one shaped by movement, sound, and narrative, the other rooted in iconography and cultural echoes drawn from the past.
The exhibition gathers works by Alexandra Brînzac, Alexandra Criste, Ioana Țurcan, Dan Chiș, and Teodor Buruiană — a constellation of practices across sculpture, ceramics, mixed media, light, and video. Together, they sketch a suspended image, caught between stillness and motion, where perception itself becomes both subject and medium.
The space acts as a playground, charged with a kind of urgency — a space where the viewer’s emotional weight meets the aesthetic suffocation of purple. A color that does not simply decorate but lingers, tightens, suggests. Not what it shows, but what it carries.