PSI Foundation’s Art Director, Danila Parniouk, talks about the foundation’s first exhibition in Nicosia and the art you encounter when you are not looking for it.
A shop window, a building facade or a street we walk along every day can offer an unexpectedly engaging encounter with art. For its first exhibition in Nicosia, PSI Foundation brings 14 video works by nine artists into the old city with Objects in the Mirror May Be Closer Than They Appear, curated by Evagoria Dapola. We spoke to the foundation’s Art Director, Danila Parniouk, about how art interacts with public space and the memory of a divided capital, and how cultural institutions can encourage curiosity while leaving audiences free to discover meanings of their own.
PSI Foundation was established in 2024. What gap in Cyprus’s cultural landscape did you hope it would fill, and what have you learned from putting that vision into practice over the past two years?
Cyprus already had a rich and well-established cultural life before we established PSI Foundation. Within this context, we saw an opportunity to contribute something of our own, creating another space for dialogue where local artistic practices, cultural heritage and international perspectives could meet. We began by listening, learning and understanding the cultural environment. Our first exhibition, “Casts of an Island”, took place in 2024, marking 50 years since the Turkish invasion. This pilot project helped us better understand the island’s complex history, cultural memory and identity. Our wish to explore the history of the former carob warehouse that became our home in Limassol then led to the TEKTON research project. With “From Nature to Structure” and our current exhibition, “Bill Viola. Unspoken”, we continued to explore connections between art and the local cultural context.
These two years have taught us that memory, identity and history are not abstract subjects here. They are part of everyday life and can mean different things to different people. This has taught us to approach our projects with greater sensitivity and leave space for different voices, with a full awareness of the responsibility that comes with working in such a complex cultural environment. We hope to bring our own perspective and contribute to the ongoing discussion about what Cyprus is today and what it means to be Cypriot.
You are a photographer as well as the foundation’s Art Director. How has your own artistic perspective shaped the way you develop PSI’s programme?
Photography has shaped both the way I look at art and the way I observe the world. I have always been interested in the relationship between people, space, time and memory, as well as connections that are not immediately visible or often go unnoticed. This sensitivity naturally influences my work at PSI. I pay particular attention to how artworks interact with architecture, cultural memory and the viewer’s experience. For me, each exhibition is a new relationship between art, people and the place in which it happens.
But shaping the artistic direction of a cultural institution is a much more complex process than creating your own work. I work closely with our Chief Curator, Dimitri Ozerkov, whose knowledge and experience are central to our programme. For me, the role of an Art Director is to help shape the questions we explore, bring together the right people and different perspectives, and create the conditions for an emergent process, where collaboration produces something beyond what any of us could achieve individually.
PSI is making its first appearance in Nicosia with “Objects in the Mirror May Be Closer Than They Appear”, which is already on view. What does this move signal about the direction the foundation is taking?
Our first project in Nicosia is a natural continuation of our research into video art in different spaces and contexts. In Limassol, “Bill Viola. Unspoken” follows a black-box approach, with the works shown in carefully designed, darkened spaces inside our former carob warehouse, where architecture and controlled conditions shape the viewer’s experience.
But we wanted to go beyond this format and explore a different approach, while also creating a dialogue between Bill Viola’s work and contemporary Cypriot artists. Nicosia seemed a natural choice. Instead of traditional gallery spaces, we brought video art into shop windows, onto building facades and into the streets of the old city. In a way, we turned the city into a screen and its residents and passers-by into an audience. We wanted to reduce the distance between contemporary art and everyday life, allowing people to encounter artworks without necessarily entering a traditional exhibition space.
What does Nicosia’s old city bring to the experience of these works? Could the same exhibition exist in the same way in Limassol?
What makes Nicosia particularly interesting for this exhibition is the relationship between its urban space, historical memory and the artworks themselves. Some of the works acquire a site-specific dimension through their relationship with the places where they are presented. A good example is ZEI by Constantinos Taliotis, a video documenting the relocation of the monumental statue of Archbishop Makarios III from the courtyard of the Archbishop’s Palace to the mountains near Kykkos Monastery in 2008. Presenting it at MERES, in the same part of the city where the statue once stood, adds another layer of meaning. The viewer encounters this documented history within the same urban context in which it began.
My own experience of Nicosia has also shaped the way I see this project. I remember standing in the old city at a moment when the bells of Orthodox churches began to ring and, at the same time, the Muslim call to prayer could be heard from the minarets. These sounds overlapped and created an extraordinary, sometimes contradictory dialogue above the city. For a moment, the city itself felt like a powerful sound installation. In a divided capital, where the unresolved conflict continues to affect people’s lives, these sounds carry a particular emotional weight. Nicosia is not a neutral background for contemporary art. Its history, architecture and everyday life become part of the experience of the artworks themselves, creating new meanings through the interaction between the work, the place and the viewer.
Could the same exhibition exist in Limassol? Certainly, but it would be a different exhibition. Every city has its own history and character, and the relationship between an artwork and its surroundings can never be reproduced in exactly the same way.
What was the greatest challenge in preparing an exhibition spread across shop windows, studios, cafés and other spaces in a city that continues to go about its daily life?
I think the greatest challenge was to create a coherent exhibition within an environment we could not fully control. This required negotiation and adaptation to the city’s rules, limitations and daily routines, so that the exhibition could become part of this life rather than interrupt it. This meant considerable organisational and technical work, with individual solutions for each location and coordination with property owners, local businesses, contractors and the municipality.
But once the exhibition was installed, we noticed something unexpected. As the streets empty, shops close and old Nicosia falls asleep, our video installations remain among its most active presences. Their images are visible from a distance and seem to communicate with one another across the streets. For me, this is perhaps the most beautiful moment of the project, revealing how the exhibition develops its own life within the changing rhythm of the city in a way we could never have fully planned.
In a conventional exhibition space, visitors have chosen to look at art. Here, they may encounter it by chance while taking a walk or going to work. How does that change the experience, both for the audience and for the works themselves?
I think the main difference is that art in public space has to compete for our attention. When someone visits a museum or gallery, they have already made a conscious decision. On the street, everything is different. People are following their usual routines, with countless things competing for their attention. They may walk past an installation without even noticing it. But if something in the work suddenly catches their attention and makes them stop, they step outside their routine. For a moment, they become viewers.
Unlike in a museum, this encounter was neither planned nor expected. The artwork has to find its place among thousands of visual signals. In this unfamiliar context, the work itself can also acquire new meanings through its interaction with the surrounding environment. For me, this is what makes art in public space so interesting. The encounter cannot be fully planned or controlled. Its meaning emerges when something in the work unexpectedly reaches someone who was not looking for it.
The exhibition brings together 14 works by nine artists and is curated by Evagoria Dapola. How did your collaboration take shape and what guided the selection of works for Nicosia?
From the beginning, we wanted to work closely with someone who knows Nicosia and its artistic community. This is why we invited researcher and writer Evagoria Dapola to curate the exhibition, having already defined its direction: to explore how video art could exist outside traditional exhibition spaces and interact with the urban environment.
Evagoria had full curatorial independence, selecting artists, works and locations guided by her knowledge of Nicosia and her understanding of how each work could engage with its character. PSI’s team supported this vision by finding locations, obtaining permissions and coordinating the technical, organisational and legal aspects. This reflects an important principle of our work at PSI: establishing a shared artistic direction while creating space for independent curatorial ideas to take shape.
How has Nicosia responded so far?
The first reactions have been encouraging, although it is still too early to draw final conclusions. Our curatorial tour at the opening brought together a substantial group of visitors, including artists working in different disciplines. We also received positive feedback from people who travelled specifically from Limassol, including Bill Viola’s wife, Kira Perov.
What I found particularly interesting was how visitors described the experience, noticing how video art was changing the atmosphere of the streets. Some described the exhibition as a kind of cultural quest. Since the works are spread across different locations, you need a map, available at psi.art, to find them, moving through the tiny streets of the old city from one installation to another. This turns the exhibition into an urban adventure, offering an opportunity to rediscover the city through art. I am interested to see how the exhibition becomes part of its everyday life and how people continue to respond to it.
When the exhibition comes to an end, what would make you feel that this first step in Nicosia has been a success?
For me, success will not be measured only by the number of visitors or the attention the exhibition receives. This year, we wanted to explore video art more broadly through different voices and exhibition contexts, reaching people who are interested in contemporary art. I would consider it a good result if this exhibition helped us connect with new audiences in Nicosia who will continue following our work.
We are also open to new curatorial proposals and collaborations in the capital, seeing the whole island of Cyprus as a space for artistic research and expression. This exhibition has given us valuable experience to build upon. But perhaps the most meaningful measure of success is the response of the local community and the new perspectives and experiences we have contributed to the city’s already rich cultural life. I also hope this experience will influence the way we think and work, because meaningful collaboration is always a process of mutual discovery.
How do you see PSI developing beyond its base in Limassol?
This project marks the beginning of a relationship with Nicosia that we want to continue developing. Our home remains in Limassol, and the former carob warehouse is central to our identity, but it does not define the limits of our activity. We are interested in developing projects that respond to the particular character of different cities and communities.
The exhibition in Nicosia has brought us into contact with artists, curators and cultural professionals with whom we hope to work again, based on shared artistic interests. For us, developing beyond Limassol means expanding our programme and working with different communities, allowing new artistic ideas to emerge from these encounters.
How much can an organisation like PSI broaden the public’s understanding of what art can be, without telling people how they should experience it?
I believe a cultural institution should expand how people encounter and understand art, while respecting their freedom to form their own interpretations. At PSI, we bring different perspectives into dialogue, encouraging curiosity and independent discovery. Exhibitions, curatorial texts and educational programmes all have their place, but above all they should open doors rather than provide definitive answers.
By presenting art in unexpected places and contexts, we can challenge not only how people experience art, but also their assumptions about where art belongs and what it can be. After all, one of the most valuable things art can do is encourage questioning and doubt. As an artist and Art Director, I am interested in creating the conditions for people to discover new meanings through their relationship with artworks. This is what I would like PSI to offer: the freedom, curiosity and confidence to keep looking, questioning and discovering.
INFO
Objects in the Mirror May Be Closer Than They Appear
Dates: Until 2 November 2026
Opening days and hours: Wednesday–Sunday, 17:30–22:30
Location: Various venues in old Nicosia. See all locations here.
Information: psi.art
