We record, we label, we store — not because memory is reliable, but because it isn’t. From stone carvings to family albums, from external drives to cloud backups, archiving has always been a way of resisting loss. We try to hold onto fragments, knowing they will fade.
Archive 1.0 continues this instinct.
A transparent glass cube holds scraps of fabric, bits of light, and lines from Andersen’s The Snow Queen. Each quote is suspended like a data point — precise, but already slipping away.
The cube resembles a system: ordered, contained, legible.
But its materials are fragile. Its contents incomplete.
Like ink fading on paper.
Like memory that doesn’t save quite right.
We archive to preserve — or is archiving just another form of letting go?

Marina Ródnikova is an artist and curator. Her practice explores how we preserve memory — and what gets lost in the process.
Her work draws from personal and collective memory, archival systems, and disappearing landscapes — both physical and emotional. She is interested in formats of preservation: the image, the fragment, the story, the surface. Her projects reflect on what remains undocumented or illegible.
In parallel with her artistic practice, she co-runs an independent gallery The Gallery that supports emerging and underrepresented voices.