Territorial Bodies Exhibition: Interview with the Artist. Alice Brunello Luise.
After being part of Territorial Bodies exhibition, curated by Marcela Villanueva, Alice Brunello Luise reflects on her art in an interview with Myriam Martínez Gómez.
How would you describe yourself?
I’m Alice Brunello Luise. I’m from Venice (Italy) and I moved to Berlin at the end of 2019. I’ve always had a complicated relationship with the term “artist”. During my studies in photography and painting, many of my professors insisted that women couldn’t be artists, only men could. That belief left a lasting impression on me. As a result, I’ve always preferred to define myself as a creative researcher. It feels more accurate because I’m constantly searching: investigating ideas, processes, and emotions rather than simply producing artwork for the sake of art.
What are the main themes that drive your creative practice?
Much of my work revolves around my lived experience with endometriosis. Initially, I began creating art as a form of meditation, a personal, almost private coping mechanism to manage pain and mental overwhelm. Collage, painting and photography became a way to step outside of my own head. The aim was never to share this work publicly. It was something for myself, to process grief, loss and physical suffering. But eventually, this solitary practice began to open doors to dialogue and community, which was unexpected and beautiful.
You’ve talked about painting, photography and collage. How did you transition between these mediums?
I initially studied painting, but I quickly realized that it didn’t suit my working rhythm. Painting demands a kind of patience I didn’t have at the time. I was drawn to photography because it’s faster, it allowed me to capture something real and then reinterpret it. During the final years of my academy training, I asked my painting professor if I could focus on photography instead. Surprisingly, he agreed and encouraged me to use light as if I were painting with it. That changed everything. From there, cutting and collaging photographs became my way of reclaiming reality: reconstructing a version of life that was otherwise filled with limitations and loss due to illness.
Since your work is mostly rooted in your experience with endometriosis, how did you begin to explore it through art?
I never imagined that this illness could become part of my artistic work until I encountered another artist, Dr Alicja Pawluczuk, also known as HYSTERA (@hy_stera), who is both a medical researcher and an artist. She created an exhibition about endometriosis, and it was the first time I felt truly represented. It was a revelation. I realized I wasn’t alone, and that there was a way to speak about this through art. That led me to join a community of artists and researchers, contributing to exhibitions, zines, and collaborations with hospitals. What began as something private, has evolved into a larger dialogue.
But even in my early work, those seemingly “commercial” or portrait-based works began as a form of self-reflection. I refer to them as surreal portraits because they mirror how surreal my life can feel due to chronic illness. I often use vintage photographs—images found at flea markets—or sometimes portraits of people I know. But even then, they serve as projections of myself, explorations of my identity through a surreal lens. They may be more accessible to a general audience, but their origins are deeply personal.
How did “Shapes Of My Heart”, part of “Territorial Bodies” exhibition, curated by Marcela Villanueva and presented at Bardo Projektraum, come to be the piece it is now?
It came from a very visceral need for movement and action, even though I don’t have a dedicated studio space. I was experimenting in my small apartment using materials I had on hand: watercolors, paper, glue. Initially, I used a Chinese calligraphy brush, which offers expressive control over gesture. But then I moved to using a cutter. It gave me the kind of freedom I needed. I started layering translucent paper, cutting into it, folding and unfolding parts. The process became about making the invisible visible. It’s about revealing what lies underneath, emotionally and physically.
That work, more than others, reflects an intuitive approach, balanced with careful construction. It’s more raw, more immediate. Earlier works were very thought-through, often conceptual. This recent piece was driven by physical and emotional necessity. It wasn’t about perfect execution but about feeling. Even the materials reflect that: there’s glue, water, folds, imperfection. And I welcomed that. I didn’t want to frame it or flatten it. The movement and layering had to remain visible.
It sounds like a blend of spontaneity and intention. Would you say that’s usually your creative process?
Very much so. I usually start with research, intellectual and emotional. Then, once I have a concept, I try to let intuition guide the execution. For example, with “Shapes Of My Heart”, the need to cut and shape came first. Only afterward did I understand what it represented. Even though I have a vision of where I want to go, I don’t always know how I’ll get there. And that’s important to me, to leave space for the unknown.
Is it finished or do you want to expand the series?
It might be that I will do more artwork like this in the future. But to expand this series, I think I need a purpose. It was driven by need. And, of course, I know the process and I can repeat it, but I think that I have to be in need of doing it. Otherwise is going to be mechanical, and that’s exactly the opposite of its essence.
Why Bardo Projektraum?
I passed by the gallery when visiting a friend who lived nearby. I remember seeing an exhibition with something hanging from the ceiling (a large fabric or ceramic sculpture) and it stayed in my mind. When I received an open call from Marcela Villanueva, the curator of “Territorial Bodies” exhibition, I immediately recognized the space from those past encounters. And I just had to apply.
What I appreciated most was how personal the application process was: you had to book an appointment and send your digital portfolio, but also show up in person. That made it feel much more human and direct.
Speaking about that, you also led a Creative Collage Workshop during the exhibition. What inspired you to approach this kind of communal creation?
“Shapes Of My Heart” was a starting point for me, something different than what I’d been doing so far. I studied photography at the Academy of Fine Arts in Venice, and (of course) they told me that rules are important. But there is no rules in collage. So, it made me think of how could I make people just go with their guts and just create for them a way to start, too.
I’ve always been interested in helping others tap into their intuitive creativity. For a long time, I was unsure if I was the right person to lead workshops. But the idea kept returning. I remembered a workshop I attended in the Alps, where we used natural materials and storytelling to inform our art. That experience stayed with me. When I was invited to host a workshop at Bardo Projektraum, I wanted to create something that encourages people to start from within: using keywords, intuitive writing, and layering materials to reflect their inner world. The idea is to bypass the intellect a bit and allow instinct to take over.
Have you done more collaborative work?
I usually work independently, but recently I began a meaningful collaboration with a friend of mine, who is a dancer. As she performs, I take photographs in real time, and the printed images are then used to build an evolving installation. What makes it special is that the audience becomes an active participant in shaping the work. The final piece is a mobile-like structure (almost like a cascade or cluster of images) that changes depending on the size and nature of the space.
The themes we explore are deeply personal but also socially relevant. For instance, I often reflect on the idea of grieving the life I once imagined I would have, and how that personal journey inevitably leads me back to community. On her side, she’s interested in how chaotic and disconnected our world has become. We both feel that people often speak just to hear their own voices or to respond, rather than to truly understand. So our performances aim to question that, and to encourage deeper listening and connection.
Also, I participated in a residency in february alongside five other artists. We had to create one or more pieces together around the theme “Interweaving Identities”, starting from our heritage and then interwining the concept to our arrive in Berlin. I decided to speak about my IVF journey and miscarriage; topics that are often hidden but deeply tied to identity and the female experience, particularly in relation to endometriosis. I drew inspiration from ex-voto (a traditional Italian Catholic form of offering, often made after surviving illness or hardship). Historically, these were naive paintings or small silver objects depicting the afflicted body part, offered in gratitude to saints.
I created two small ex-voto-style artworks featuring myself, embroidered with pearls and gold leaf. The imagery includes traditional Catholic symbols, but reimagined in a secular and fractured way. I asked each of the women I worked with to write words related to endometriosis in their native languages (Romanian, Mandarin, Russian…) Language connects us more deeply to experience. These words were added to the mobile installation above the crib, along with vintage family photos and anatomical fragments. The final piece became a sort of tree of life. I displayed them beside an empty crib I found on the street, symbolizing both absence and potential.
What’s in your future?
I want to take the mobile concept further, independently. I’m working now on a series of photo-collages, built with images of organic materials (some even from surgical photographs) and illustrations. I incorporate layers of translucent materials, gold accents, and sometimes even cut-outs that evoke a kintsugi-like aesthetic. It’s an exploration of fragility, resilience and healing.
It’s a powerful and intimate body of work. Will you be showing it publicly?
I hope to. I’ve actually spoken with Marcela about potentially showing it at The Pocket Gallery, a micro-gallery dedicated to showcasing contemporary art in an unconventional, radically intimate format. I’ll definitely let you know if it happens.
Myriam Martínez Gómez
