Ekaterina Ilina: Fragments of Protection

As part of Castello Art Residency 2026, Ekaterina Ilina reinterprets traditional Italian apotropaic masks through a contemporary sculptural language. Drawing on ideas of protection, vulnerability, and the Earth as a shared home, her work brings together cement, mosaic, construction materials, and local stone to explore the fragile boundary between history, landscape, and decay.

Your project draws inspiration from traditional Italian apotropaic masks. What first attracted you to this centuries-old symbol of protection? 

I have always been fascinated by the concept of the mask in Jungian psychology—the boundary between the inner self and the outside world. Traditional apotropaic masks were created to terrify evil spirits, using aggression as a form of defense. But I feel there is already too much aggression in our modern world. Instead of a terrifying guardian, I gave the mask an ambiguous smile. It raises a conceptual question: is this the serene "archaic smile" of true acceptance, or is it a forced, artificial grin trying to mask inner vulnerability? This duality reflects how we attempt to protect ourselves psychologically today.

Rather than recreating a historical object, you reinterpret it through a contemporary sculptural language. How do you balance tradition with your own artistic voice? 

The balance is achieved through the concept of the contemporary ruin. I designed the sculpture so that it is, quite literally, created to be destroyed. Visually, it references Etruscan artifacts with their characteristic archaic smile—a symbol of life and observation. However, the surface is intentionally unstable; it looks as if different historical and material layers are peeling and falling off. The mosaic isn't just an applied decoration, but an exposed structural underlayer breaking through the ancient stone.

You describe the Earth as our shared home. How does this idea shape the meaning of the mask beyond its original architectural function? 

Historically, these masks were placed above doorways to protect private property. By scaling the mask up to almost two meters and placing it directly on the ground, looking up at the sky, I shift the paradigm. The concept of "home" is no longer confined by walls; the Earth itself is the home. The mask becomes a part of the landscape, a spirit of the place (Genius Loci) that belongs to the soil and is slowly returning to it.

The work begins with observing the local village and its architecture. What do you hope to discover through this site-specific research?

 I was looking for the "texture of time" and the dialogue between human-made structures and nature. Walking through the village, I observed how buildings erode and how nature reclaims its space. I integrated this directly into the work by collecting local crushed stone and scattering it across various parts of the mask. This local material roots the sculpture, blurring the line between the artificial object and the natural landscape.

Mosaic has a long history in Italy. How does incorporating this technique contribute to the dialogue between your work and its surroundings?

 In Italy, mosaic is historically a meticulous, monumental art form used to create unified, eternal narratives in sacred spaces. In my work, I completely deconstruct this tradition. The mosaic here—combining colored and white smalti—is fragmented, almost like a glitch, a scar, or a disease on the surface of the concrete. It doesn’t try to tell a perfect story; rather, it highlights the cracks, imperfections, and the process of decay. It becomes a metaphor for how we perceive history and our surroundings today—not as a whole, but as broken fragments trying to hold together.

Your process combines industrial materials like cement and construction foam with handcrafted mosaic. What interests you about bringing these contrasting materials together?

It reflects the ambivalence of our time. Construction foam and cement are the fast, utilitarian, almost disposable materials of modern capitalism. In contrast, the mosaic requires slow, meditative, traditional labor. To this, I added a third semantic layer—the natural crushed stone collected from the site, which represents wild nature and unpredictable chaos. This combination creates a complex dialogue between industrial speed, human craftsmanship, and the raw, untamed forces of the earth.