video / photography
I used to imagine Rozanova’s Green Stripe continuing beyond the frame. As a child, I thought it could run freely and end somewhere as a flower. In Strasbourg, I encountered it again as a green bike lane. Short, interrupted, fading into the street. I followed it on foot, step by step, balancing along its surface thinking of Rozanova’s path in art. The gesture turned into a way of tracing a presence that feels both visible and easily lost.
The work reflects on how certain lines persist in space while remaining fragile, partial, and at risk of disappearance, like so many women’s paths in art, often overshadowed by the fame of men's works.
I used to imagine Rozanova’s Green Stripe continuing beyond the frame. As a child, I thought it could run freely and end somewhere as a flower. In Strasbourg, I encountered it again as a green bike lane. Short, interrupted, fading into the street. I followed it on foot, step by step, balancing along its surface thinking of Rozanova’s path in art. The gesture turned into a way of tracing a presence that feels both visible and easily lost.
The work reflects on how certain lines persist in space while remaining fragile, partial, and at risk of disappearance, like so many women’s paths in art, often overshadowed by the fame of men's works.
Olga Rozanova,
Untitled (Green Stripe), 1917.
Untitled (Green Stripe), 1917.
Rozanova Was Here, 2025
35 sec // Rue Brûlée, Strasbourg, France
Walking The Green Line
