We are living in an age of uncertainty. Nothing feels stable anymore; nothing seems eternal. Change has become a constant condition, and this ongoing state of flux makes us both anxious and awake. It feels as though we are all inhabiting a kind of Zwischenzu-stand — an in-between state where things are no longer what they once were, yet not quite what they will become. It is a suspended moment, a space of transition and becoming. It can feel unsettling, but it can also be liberating; it holds both rupture and possibility.
People often talk about “crisis,” about being in a “downturn,” as if the only meaningful response is to overcome it — to move forward, to start again. But perhaps this in-between state is not just something to be endured, but something worth recognizing and experiencing. It is not stagnation, but transition; not emptiness, but formation. Maybe we can learn to linger within it — to pause, to breathe, to notice. Like a picnic during a long journey: not the destination, not the departure, but a brief stop along the way — a moment to rest and to look around. Every era, whether it feels bright or troubled, belongs to us. We don’t need to escape change; perhaps we can learn to settle within it.
The group exhibition PICNIC, presented at The Tiger Room, unfolds within this sensibility. Four artists — Lisa Bahuschewskaja, Naama Bergman, Heeyoung Rosa Jo, and Frida Kato — each respond, in their own way, to this condition of “being in between.” Coming from different contexts and working with distinct materials, their practices explore moments of suspension and transformation. They move between the familiar and the foreign, between structure and dissolution, between the personal and the collective. Each work breathes in its own rhythm, marking a subtle shift in perception.
Lisa Bahuschewskaja (b. 2000) continues the Belarusian folk tradition of Malyavanki — hand-painted carpets that once depicted idyllic, paradisiacal scenes. In her series Palms and The King of the Woods (2025), she reimagines this vernacular practice by introducing the improvised aesthetics of post-Soviet courtyards, where swans made from old car tires appear as emblems of human creativity and longing. Using felt-tip pens and acrylic markers on fabric, she captures the tenderness and humor found in these humble gestures. Her paintings are both a continuation of a folk tradition and a loving, ironic reflection on the human impulse to create beauty, even within limitation and decay.
Naama Bergman (b. 1982, Tel Aviv), by contrast, gives form to fragility and impermanence. Working with unstable materials such as salt and sand, she creates sculptures that appear solid yet are always on the verge of disintegration. In her series 801°C Salt Cellars, the containers themselves are cast from salt — to use them, one must first break them. Her works meditate on the paradox of solidity and decay, on how order and meaning eventually dissolve into debris, turning fragility itself into a quiet form of strength.
Heeyoung Rosa Jo (b. 1991, Seoul) paints with a light, open, and rhythmic sensibility. With minimal, gestural brushwork, she captures fleeting impressions — moments of transition between movement and stillness, clarity and haze. Often unstretched and hung directly on the wall, her canvases function as soft, breathing bodies rather than rigid objects. Through delicate lines and fluid color fields, she constructs a sense of suspended time. Her paintings trace the invisible: drifting thoughts, fragmented memories, fleeting perceptions — subtle yet deeply grounded in the sensory experience of everyday life.
Frida Kato (b. 1990, Tokyo) moves between painting and ceramics, exploring the tension between excess and restraint, materiality and intuition. Her colors are intense and layered, flowing across surfaces like molten lava. There is a theatrical quality to her com-positions — baroque, rhythmic, and yet delicately balanced. Her works exist in a state of perpetual becoming. Each piece feels alive, caught in the act of transformation.
