Ursula Huber

Horizon

The horizon is not a place. It is a stance. It describes a gaze that does not settle for what is given — a space fed by knowledge, culture and movement. The horizon comes into being where the known is exceeded — where thought expands and openness becomes a precondition. In this sense, the horizon is not a fixed point but a shifting structure. Drawing on Hans-Georg Gadamer, it can be understood as a space of understanding that moves with every experience. Perception is never complete; it is part of a process in which perspectives overlap and reform.

The work consists of sixteen individual panels, each standing on its own while also forming part of a larger whole. Each element is set in a wooden frame, which forms the constructive base. Built up on this is a layered structure of concrete, which is modeled, compacted, and partially removed again. The central line running across all the panels reads as the horizon line. It structures the work, connects the individual elements, and anchors the composition on a visual plane oriented to human eye level.

The relief is not conceived as a surface but as a densification. Material is not shaped but exposed. The raw structure, the depth, the fractures recall geological processes — forces that act over time. Nature appears here not as an image but as a principle. The rock face is not a motif but a state. It stands for resistance, friction, and the necessary effort of the climb. Transformation does not happen linearly, but through pressure, erosion, and repeated action. Water, heat, and cold inscribe themselves into the surface, generating a visual language that is neither purely constructed nor random.

The horizon, in this, remains a promise. It opens the space beyond the material and stands for movement, expansion, and the possibility of shifting existing boundaries. The standards are set high — not as a limitation, but as a stance.

Between past and future a field of tension arises that is deliberately left unresolved. A quiet reference to Aurora — to the moment of transition, in which something begins without yet being fixed.

The work can be read from outside in. Or the reverse. At its innermost point lies the first impulse — ungraspable, still without clear form. Sketches and drafts are approximations of this moment. Only in the movement outward does the idea take concrete shape. The first intervention, the first mark in the material, marks the point where intuition passes into form. Here the work begins. The horizon, then, is not a boundary but a displacement — a state between what has been and what becomes possible. A space in which experience, memory and projection overlap.

What withdraws from our gaze, even as we try to grasp it? Perhaps the answer lies exactly where the horizon runs — along a line that is none.

This space is dedicated to showcasing contemporary artistic perspectives, offering both local and international artists the opportunity to exhibit their work through a hybrid format: an online virtual gallery alongside a physical exhibition space located within Aurora.