Zina Gallery

Marco Verhoogt’s first solo exhibition unfolds from a paradox: the impulse to merge with nature, to rewild oneself, while simultaneously keeping its autonomy intact. His works are not declarations but rehearsals, trial scenes where attention is both genuine and awkward. A wooden bear is positioned like a roadside mascot, waiting for your hand to reach out. Seashells and stones are placed in a bathtub, suddenly domestic, suddenly out of place, wet and shining. A hybrid figure, half-human and half-dog, clutches a bone far too heavy for its own body. These objects are proxies, experiments in proximity: how to hold, to look, to pet, to collect, without tipping over into destruction. The artist’s vision is playing with harmony, creating a series of trial runs, attempts, and failures at negotiating a future that hasn’t yet arrived. When the weekend ends, the imagined crowd vanishes. The beetles crawl back. The logs remain damp. What endures is not fusion, but nature watching back, remembering your gestures, and your willingness to try again. - excerpt from text by Daniela Custrin