Nine | Human Structure

2019–2020

Acrylic on canvas, with relief applications
Nine panels, each 200 × 150 cm (height × width)
Combined width of the frontal surfaces: 13.5 metres, excluding installation intervals
Original continuous canvas: 15 metres
Studio development phase: nine months

Each panel has its own title and individual SILA Archive ID. All nine panels constitute a single, indivisible work.

Windows · Personal Path · Reflection · Silver · Images · News · Immersion in Silence · Present Space · Exit

About the Project

Nine | Human Structure is a large-scale painting and performance-based project by Iryna Sushelnytska, begun in 2019 and subjected to a decisive transformation during the COVID-19 pandemic. It examines how a historical catastrophe alters not only human behaviour, but the very structure of contact: touch, proximity, shared space and bodily presence.

The project does not recount COVID-19 retrospectively, nor does it illustrate the pandemic through a set of recognisable symbols. Its material biography reproduces the anatomy of what occurred. It begins with a single open field in which bodies move freely, make contact and leave traces. A condition of anxiety and external intrusion then enters the painted surface. The continuous canvas is subsequently rolled, transferred to the studio, cut into nine sections and enclosed within a system of rigid contours, rectangular boundaries and separated human figures.

What happened to human beings in 2020 happens to the painting itself. Shared space becomes a collection of isolated spaces. Free movement becomes a regulated trajectory. Proximity becomes a potential threat. A single body is divided into distinct sections that continue to preserve the memory of their former physical connection.

In this sense, Nine is not a representation of isolation. It is a work that has itself passed through isolation.

The First Action: Shore, Body, Shared Space

The first stage of the project took place as a public action on the seashore. In summer, at approximately four o’clock in the morning, before sunrise, a white canvas exactly fifteen metres long was laid directly on the sand. The open beach, the movement of air, the rhythm of the waves, the changing light and the physical presence of other people all participated in the formation of the work.

Sushelnytska worked barefoot and dressed in white. Using a broad brush attached to a long handle, she applied blue and ultramarine lines and signs to the surface. The scale of the canvas required the movement of the entire body: the artist did not stand in front of the painting but entered its territory, moving around it, along it and within its boundaries.

Those present gradually entered the action. Impressions of hands and feet, traces of movement, physical encounters and shared gestures appeared across the canvas. These were not supplementary compositional details. Together, they formed the initial collective field ‒ a condition in which the body could still operate as a means of connection and touch was not yet perceived as a danger.

The sign of the hand, which recurs throughout Sushelnytska’s practice, acquires particular significance here. The hand is an instrument of labour and action, a means of transmitting energy, supporting another person and establishing one’s presence. Under pandemic conditions, however, the same hand becomes a possible route of infection. A single gesture holds two opposing states together: contact and threat, trust and the necessity of distance.

Entering the Water

The concluding act of the action on the shore was the artist’s entry into the sea. This gesture does not illustrate a predetermined religious narrative, but it opens associations with immersion, purification, initiation, baptism and catharsis.

Water concludes the first phase of the project while marking a transition. The body leaves the space of the painting it has created and enters another material ‒ mobile, unstable and not subject to the rectangular limits of the canvas. After this open action, the work leaves the shore and moves into the enclosed space of the studio.

In retrospect, this transition acquires particular historical force. Open space, physical contact and collective action are followed by a period in which the very presence of another person becomes problematic. The passage from shore to studio becomes a passage from shared space to isolation.

The complete action on the shore, including the artist’s final entry into the sea, was recorded on video and remains an inseparable part of the project archive.

Colour as Transmission

The initial relationship between white and blue is connected to the sea, air, bodily presence and the trace. Yet blue and ultramarine do not retain the status of a stable colour field. Other colours gradually enter the work, while the density of the surface, the force of the gesture and the methods of applying material begin to change.

Fluorescent lemon-yellow paint was deliberately introduced through dripping ‒ the dropping and splashing of liquid paint across the surface. It disperses through the field, crossing the blue traces and disturbing the initial equilibrium. This is neither a self-contained visual effect nor a quotation from Abstract Expressionism. The manner in which the paint spreads conveys the logic of infection: something external enters an already existing field, moves through it and alters the condition of the entire system.

The choice of yellow was equally deliberate. In Vincent van Gogh’s painting, yellow did not carry one fixed meaning: it could convey light, vital energy, spring, inner tension and an extreme intensity of perception. This multiplicity is discussed by the Van Gogh Museum in its study of the role of yellow in Van Gogh’s work.

In Nine, fluorescent yellow retains the force of light while becoming simultaneously signal-like and disturbing. A colour that can be perceived as life-giving becomes a carrier of danger. This duality is central to the project: transmission can signify an exchange of energy, information and human presence, but it can also signify the spread of disease.

The painted field gradually intensifies. Splashes, marks, impressions and lines extend across the entire surface. An external force no longer remains outside human life; it enters into it. The transformation takes place before the human subject is able fully to name or comprehend what is happening.

The Cut: From a Continuous Surface to Nine Parts

After the open-air action, the fifteen-metre canvas was rolled and transferred to the studio. For a period, it existed as a single field that could no longer be seen in its entirety. It was then cut into nine sections and stretched onto nine separate supports.

Each completed panel measures 200 centimetres in height and 150 centimetres in width. The combined width of the nine frontal surfaces is 13.5 metres. The difference between the original length of the canvas and the final frontal width results from the physical construction of the work: sections of the material became technical margins, side edges and areas required to stretch the canvas around the supports.

This transformation is fundamental. The original field cannot be fully restored simply by placing the nine panels beside one another. Parts of the surface have been redirected from the frontal plane towards the sides and reverse. Physical intervals have appeared between the sections. Division has entered not only the image, but the material construction of the work.

The cut was not a technical solution intended to make the canvas easier to transport. It became the project’s central conceptual and physical operation. Isolation is not represented here by a masked figure or a closed door. It is enacted through the knife, the stretcher, the edge and the distance between panels.

What had previously been a single space of interaction becomes nine separate territories. The canvas passes through the same transformation experienced by society: from free collective presence to division, regulation and the necessity of remaining within one’s own boundary.

Silver: Protection, Restriction and Preservation

The silver surfaces, lines and mesh-like structures in Nine are not external embellishments. They perform both physical and conceptual functions.

In one reading, silver is associated with the clinical and protective environment: screens, partitions, technical enclosures, medical surfaces, systems of control and sanitary distance. It separates the figures, establishes boundaries and makes the space between bodies visible.

In another reading, silver evokes the metal used to protect, preserve or enclose a significant fragment. Parts of what was once a continuous collective body are placed within a rigid, almost reliquary-like structure. The work does not merely register separation; it attempts to preserve evidence that a whole once existed.

This duality was not constructed solely as a formal metaphor. It emerged from the immediate historical experience of the pandemic ‒ illness among those close to the artist, fear of infection, the reality of death and the constant presence of threat. A protective boundary could preserve life while simultaneously intensifying solitude. Silver in the project both separates and protects; it confines and preserves.

Nine States of Human Presence

The nine panels have individual titles, but they do not form a sequential illustrated narrative. They operate as nine coordinates of existence within an altered social space.

  1. Windows
    The window becomes both a means of seeing the outside world and a physical boundary separating the observer from it. Under conditions of isolation, the gaze maintains a connection with what lies beyond, while the body remains enclosed.

  2. Personal Path
    Collective movement breaks into individual trajectories. Each person is compelled to pass through the historical event within their own space, time and bodily experience.

  3. Reflection
    Isolation returns the person to the self, but this return does not guarantee clarity. One’s own presence is perceived through reflection, screen, memory and distance.

  4. Silver
    The boundary becomes both protection and obstruction. It preserves the body while limiting the possibility of direct contact.

  5. Images
    In the absence of physical presence, images begin to replace people. Faces, bodies and events increasingly reach us through technologically mediated surfaces.

  6. News
    The flow of information enters the enclosed space and determines the emotional condition of the individual. The external world becomes present inside the room as a succession of messages, numbers, warnings and images.

  7. Immersion in Silence
    The reduction of contact creates a new density within interior space. Silence may be experienced as concentration, but also as the absence of response, anxiety and social withdrawal.

  8. Present Space
    The world contracts to the immediate surroundings of the body. The room, the studio, the panel and the rectangular boundary become models of a present from which it is temporarily impossible to escape.

  9. Exit
    The final section offers no unequivocal resolution. Exit may signify physical movement, hope, a transformation of consciousness or merely the direction of the gaze. It exists as a possibility, not as a guaranteed outcome.

Together, these titles construct a map of conditions experienced during the pandemic: observation, movement, self-perception, protection, mediation, informational pressure, silence, a restricted present and the search for a way out.

Scale and the Position of the Viewer

At two metres high, each panel establishes a direct bodily relationship with the standing viewer. The combined width of the frontal surfaces is 13.5 metres, while the intervals between panels extend the work across an even longer wall.

The project cannot be fully perceived from a single fixed position. To encounter it, the viewer must move along the panels, approach and withdraw, compare individual figures and return to the whole. The work generates a temporal experience: it unfolds not instantaneously, but through bodily movement.

From a distance, the nine sections may be perceived as a collective procession. At close range, the physical intervals, relief lines, divisions and fragments of the original field become visible. The viewer repeatedly moves between two perceptual conditions ‒ community and individual, continuity and rupture, movement and fixation.

Photography inevitably reduces the work to a horizontal strip and flattens its material structure. It cannot convey the two-metre height of the figures, the extent of the wall, the relief of the surface or the necessity of moving beside the work. Photographic and video documentation are therefore essential to the archive, but they cannot replace a physical encounter with the installation.

Historical Coordinates

The historical parallels associated with Nine do not imply stylistic imitation or an attempt to place the project within an artificially assembled sequence of established names. They clarify the artistic questions inherited by the work and identify the point at which Sushelnytska redirects them under different historical conditions.

The Horizontal Canvas and the Bodily Gesture: Jackson Pollock

The use of a vast canvas laid on the ground inevitably enters into dialogue with the practice of Jackson Pollock. In works including One: Number 31, 1950, Pollock placed unstretched canvas on the floor, moved around it and applied paint by pouring, dripping and throwing. The physical properties of paint, the force of movement, gravity and the position of the body became part of the construction of the image.

Pollock’s method cannot be reduced to an uncontrolled impulse or a purely psychological discharge. Its intensity retains structure, rhythm, material precision and the capacity to hold an extensive field together as a whole.

In Nine, the horizontal support and the use of dripping similarly connect the image to bodily movement. The authorial shift, however, is fundamental. In Pollock’s work, the all-over field becomes the completed state of the painting. In Sushelnytska’s project, it is only the first state of the work ‒ a shared territory that will subsequently be physically divided and subjected to a system of boundaries.

The Body as an Instrument: Yves Klein

In Yves Klein’s Anthropometries, the body becomes a direct instrument for applying blue pigment. The publicly orchestrated action, the presence of an audience and the figure of the “living brush” transform the bodily trace into an event situated between painting and performance.

Nine begins within a related historical territory: the white surface, blue pigment, public action, the body and the impression. Yet the project proceeds in a different direction. Sushelnytska employs her own body simultaneously as instrument, author, participant and bearer of historical experience. The impression does not become a final affirmation of presence. It initiates a dramaturgy in which contact gradually becomes a threat and the continuous field of bodies is subjected to division.

Klein establishes touch as an affirmation of presence. Nine follows the historical moment at which touch ceased to be unconditionally safe.

Matter and Physical Presence: Gutai and Kazuo Shiraga

The practice of Kazuo Shiraga and the Gutai group, presented in the Guggenheim Museum’s archive of Gutai: Splendid Playground, radically altered the relationship between body and material. Shiraga painted with his feet while suspended above the canvas and engaged his entire body in a physical encounter with paint and matter. In Challenging Mud, the body does not represent an action; it passes through it.

The shore-based stage of Nine belongs to this process-oriented tradition: the canvas lies on the ground, the brush ceases to function as an instrument of safe distance, and matter resists, receives the trace and changes through bodily movement.

Yet while Shiraga’s physical presence asserts the existence of the subject through direct confrontation with material, the bodily trace in Sushelnytska’s project is subsequently reorganised by history. The shared action is cut into panels, and bodily freedom is enclosed within a system of restrictions.

The Spatial Cage: Francis Bacon

In Francis Bacon’s paintings, the human figure is frequently enclosed within linear or geometric structures. These “invisible rooms”, examined by Tate in Francis Bacon: Invisible Rooms, make the body simultaneously visible and inaccessible. The frame within the image becomes not a background but a condition of the figure’s existence.

In Nine, restriction operates on several levels at once. It is present within the image through rectangles, contours and dividing lines; it is embodied by the physical form of the individual stretchers; and it continues through the real intervals between the panels. The human figure is not merely depicted inside a boundary ‒ the painting itself is reorganised as a system of isolated spaces.

The Grid as a Social Boundary

In her writing on the modernist grid, included in The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths, Rosalind Krauss examines the grid as one of the principal mechanisms through which the modernist work asserts its autonomy.

In Nine, the grid-like and rectangular structure is directed towards an opposing function. It does not separate art from the external world; it returns historical reality to the painting in the form of restriction. Geometry becomes not an abstract order, but a form of social discipline: distance, screen, enclosed interior and a route that cannot be crossed.

The grid, historically capable of signifying universal structure and harmony, becomes in 2020 a protocol of safe distance.

Pandemic Bodies: Edvard Munch and Egon Schiele

The history of art has encountered earlier moments in which an epidemic altered the representation of the human subject. In Edvard Munch’s 1919 Self-Portrait after the Spanish Flu, illness is expressed through the condition of an individual body, its physical vulnerability and its isolation within an interior.

Egon Schiele’s life and work were directly interrupted by the Spanish flu pandemic: the artist and his wife Edith died in 1918, three days apart. This history is documented by the Leopold Museum.

These examples are relevant not as formal sources for Nine, but as historical points of comparison. Munch and Schiele connect the pandemic to the vulnerability of an individual human body. Sushelnytska shifts the question towards the collective body and the artistic support itself. It is not only the represented figure that changes: the canvas is cut, the shared field disintegrates and the architecture of contact is reconstructed.

COVID-19 affected almost the entire world, and individual illness in Nine cannot be separated from the global transformation of social behaviour. The work examines not the portrait of a sick individual, but a system within which every body begins to be perceived as a possible source of danger.

Polyptych and the Divided Whole

The comparison between Nine and the history of the polyptych is a typological parallel, rather than a claim of direct or conscious borrowing.

The traditional polyptych assembled separate panels into a larger narrative or sacred body. Many historical altarpieces were subsequently dismantled, their components dispersed between different collections. One example of the study and reconstruction of such an ensemble is presented in the Museo del Prado’s research into the Altarpiece of Saint Dominic of Silos.

Nine moves in the opposite direction. The work is not assembled from panels conceived as independent objects. It originates as a physically continuous fifteen-metre canvas, is then irreversibly divided and only afterwards presented again as an ensemble.

The gallery installation restores the appearance of a whole, but cannot reverse the rupture that has taken place. The intervals between the sections remain. What confronts the viewer is not a recovered continuity, but evidence that a whole once existed and was altered by history.

This parallel becomes more precise when considered alongside works whose original integrity was disrupted during their subsequent history. Duccio’s Maestà, completed in 1311 for Siena Cathedral, was a monumental, double-sided altarpiece. It was dismantled in 1771; the sawing and separation of its painted components caused damage, and some fragments subsequently entered different collections. The surviving sections make it possible to envisage the original whole while also bearing witness to its lost structure. This material history is examined in the National Gallery’s research in London.

Another example is the Ghent Altarpiece by the Van Eyck brothers, completed in 1432. In 1894, six of its double-sided wings, then held in Berlin, were sawn through their thickness so that both painted sides could be displayed simultaneously. A change in the mode of display became an irreversible intervention in the work’s material structure. These transformations are documented by Belgium’s Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage — KIK-IRPA.

Raphael’s Colonna Altarpiece extends this historical connection through the dispersal of an ensemble across different collections. Its separated components were the subject of research and an exhibition reconstruction at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2006. In this context, reunion makes the relationships between the parts legible again while preserving knowledge of their separate histories. The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s catalogue examines the altarpiece’s original configuration and the subsequent histories of its components.

In these historical examples, division occurred after the works had been completed. In Nine, it belongs to the process of creation itself. The artist makes the physical cutting of the shared canvas an action through which the experience of the pandemic acquires material form: a space of contact becomes a space of distance and restriction. Yet the original unity persists in the shared origin of all nine panels: each carries a section of a single painted field generated through one continuous performative action.

The silver structures within the image and the physical gaps between the canvases operate on different levels. The former establish boundaries within the space occupied by the figures; the latter make division tangible in the construction of the ensemble itself. The gallery installation presents the nine sections together again, but their coexistence no longer amounts to the original continuity. The viewer encounters both an enduring connection and a division that has taken place. Nine thus preserves the material memory of freely shared bodily interaction within a form transformed by the historical experience of isolation.

Double Reading: Takashi Murakami

Takashi Murakami is not a source for the iconography or method of Nine. His practice is relevant here as an example of a two-stage structure of perception.

In Little Boy: The Arts of Japan’s Exploding Subculture, the visually accessible language of contemporary Japanese culture was connected to the memory of Hiroshima, nuclear trauma and its prolonged impact on post-war society. The viewer’s immediate visual encounter with the work preceded an understanding of the historical weight it contained.

Nine establishes its own structure of delayed disclosure. At first sight, the viewer encounters intense colour, monumental scale and the movement of human figures. Sustained attention reveals that the colour carries the memory of bodily contact, that the figures are unable to touch and that the entire composition is founded upon the physical cutting of the original canvas.

The work first establishes contact with the viewer and only then discloses the historical wound embedded within its material construction.

The Project within Iryna Sushelnytska’s Practice

Nine | Human Structure occupies a pivotal position within Sushelnytska’s practice. It brings together painting, performance, spatial construction, bodily action, video, archive and exhibition installation. None of these elements functions as supplementary material attached to a completed painting: each participates in the formation of meaning.

Within the work, the artist moves from the body as an instrument of inscription to the body as a historically conditioned structure. The figure emerges from the material of the action itself. The boundary is formed not as a contour added to complete an image, but as the consequence of historical pressure. The stretcher ceases to be a neutral support and becomes an active component of the work.

The project also demonstrates a sequence characteristic of Sushelnytska’s method: gesture produces line; line enters the mark; the mark becomes body; the body encounters the boundary; and the boundary establishes a system.

Each new structure nevertheless preserves what came before it. The painting produced on the open shore remains inside the rigidly delineated figures. The memory of touch remains inside isolation. A single original canvas continues to exist within nine autonomous panels.

The work cannot be repeated in an equivalent form. Even if another fifteen-metre canvas were laid on the shore and individual technical actions were reconstructed, the result would be a different work: the historical moment has changed, the understanding of bodily contact has changed, and the participants and conditions of presence would no longer be the same.

The project’s uniqueness is therefore defined not only by its existence as a single original. It is embedded in the irreversible sequence of events through which the work came into being.

Exhibition and Critical History

2021

The project was presented within the context of Iryna Sushelnytska’s solo exhibition Quint + Essence at the Odesa Museum of Western and Eastern Art in March 2021.

The exhibition was examined by art historian Iryna Tymokhova in the Huxley article Metamodern Spring of Iryna Sushelnytska. Tymokhova, then Head of the Museum’s Research and Methodology Department, considered Sushelnytska’s practice across painting, graphic art, sculpture, installation, performance and media.

The article pays particular attention to sign-based and symbolic communication, the material structure of the works and the image of the hand as a sign of action, presence and the human occupation of space. The publication records an early critical reception of the practice within which Nine was developed.

2021

In May 2021, the project received a separate spatial presentation at Art Gallery Sady Pobedy. Archival photographs dated 15 May document the relationship between the work, the human body and the architecture of the exhibition space.

2023

In 2023, Nine was presented at UNION in Odesa. The official publication Втілення. Картини Ірини Сушельницької в UNION, dated 6 June 2023, records the presentation of the artist’s works in Gallery 1 and Gallery 2.

Archival photographs dated 18 November 2023 document the complete nine-panel installation within the UNION exhibition space and convey the actual physical extent of the work.

Recommended caption for the installation photograph:

Installation view: Iryna Sushelnytska with Nine | Human Structure, UNION, Odesa, 18 November 2023. Photo: Artist’s Archive.

Video Documentation and Archive

The video record of the shore-based action preserves the formation of the initial painted field, the artist’s movement along the fifteen-metre canvas, the physical engagement with its surface, the presence of witnesses and the final entry into the sea.

The project archive contains photographic and video material documenting the principal stages of its development:

  • the white fifteen-metre canvas on the shore;

  • the first blue and ultramarine traces;

  • the movement of the body, brush, hands and feet;

  • the emergence of impressions and a collective painted field;

  • the introduction of fluorescent lemon yellow and dripping;

  • the artist’s final entry into the water;

  • the rolled canvas after its transfer to the studio;

  • the cutting and stretching of the canvas onto nine supports;

  • the formation of figures, rectangular boundaries and silver structures;

  • the completed ensemble installed in museum and gallery spaces.

This documentation forms part of the provenance and institutional history of the work, but it does not replace the physical presence of the installation.

Artwork Status and Acquisition

Nine | Human Structure is a unique original work comprising nine panels and existing as a single example. It is not an editioned object and cannot be reproduced as an equivalent version.

All nine panels constitute one work and are not intended for separate acquisition. Each section has its own title and individual SILA Archive ID, while the archive records identify every panel as part of the complete ensemble.

Upon acquisition, the project is accompanied by a signed Certificate of Authenticity, archival documentation, technical information and installation guidelines. Transportation, insurance, installation and international shipping are arranged individually according to the scale of the work and its destination.

Private and institutional acquisition enquiries may be submitted directly to the artist’s studio through Available Works and Contact

Conclusion

Nine | Human Structure records the historical transition from touch to distance, from collective action to isolation, and from continuous space to a system of separate boundaries.

What confronts the viewer is not a group of nine paintings about the pandemic, but the surviving evidence of what was once a continuous body. It was created through collective movement on an open shore, subjected to an intrusion, rolled, transferred into an enclosed studio, cut and confined within nine autonomous spaces.

The final installation assembles these parts before the viewer once again, but it cannot reverse the division that has taken place. Unity returns only as a condition under tension - as a memory sustained by paint, boundary and distance.

The project leaves one question unresolved:

After the conditions of human contact themselves have been transformed, can the collective body ever be assembled again ‒ or can it exist only as the memory of a continuity that was once possible?

Present Space

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID: SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-095

Windows

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID: SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-092

Personal Path

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID:SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-089

Reflection

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID: SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-091

Images

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID: SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-094

Silver

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID:SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-090

News

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID: SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-093

Immersion in Silence

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID: SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-096

Exit

150 x 200

Acrylic on canvas

ID: SILA-2020-NINE-PNT-097

Fragments

Nine, 2019–2020

Acrylic on canvas

9 panels, each 150 × 200 cm

From free movement — to fixation.

The body leaves a trace that becomes form, and then a boundary.

A living space fragments into nine parts, where presence is replaced by isolation.

Video documentation of the performative process.

Art performance contemporary artist painter Iryna Sushelnytska ~SILa~

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