By Clara Yip
A unique vibrancy surrounds Hong Kong during every Art Basel season — a fever of openings, crowds, and see-and-be-seen moments. Stepping into Inna Wegener’s Wong Chuk Hang studio, rare.weg, felt different. The space felt lived-in, with every layer of the paintings on its walls telling a story. We sat down with Inna during this art season to talk about something the community often forgets: the inner child who started making art long before the market came calling, turning sensitivity into strength. Rare.weg’s upcoming exhibition, “UA Art Salon,” running through May 15, brings together six Ukrainian artists whose works aim to challenge the world’s perception of what their country’s art can be. But to understand this exhibition, you first have to understand the woman behind it all — an IT professional by day, but a painter and a curator by night — who believes that art, above all, should feel like play.
T&C: Your work centres on derealisation — the sensation of moving through several layers of reality at once. Where does this fascination originate?
IW: Honestly, when I was a kid, I was always extremely sensitive to the world around me. And I was in my own little world. I felt too many things — so I decided to live life as it is, without demanding an explanation. It’s a lot. It can be challenging sometimes. That’s why I’ve been painting since I was a child, as it was the easy way to express myself. For me, it’s seemingly impossible to describe your own thoughts, even if you know a lot of words.
T&C: You mentioned that art is about expressing things that are too complicated for words. Is that why you paint in layers?
IW: Yes. In fact, I always work on one layer at a time, putting them above one another spontaneously. I’m also using paper, not canvas. Paper, for me, is sort of like our body. When you put too much weight on yourself, we as soulful beings, could crack anytime — we simply cannot take too much. So I had to be very careful when working with the fragile paper. You need to have good intentions to feel where you paint, so it doesn’t become too heavy on top of many other layers. I’m thinking like five, at maximum. If you put even more, it’ll be over.
T&C: And Hong Kong’s humidity doesn’t make it easier.
IW: Exactly. Each new layer must be completely dry, which, in Hong Kong’s humidity, can take weeks. The process is slow by necessity and by choice. I refuse to rush what I am trying to say. So I had to make sure that each time I added a new layer, everything was completely dry, so every piece takes almost four months. My process is slow, but I’m never in a rush, and I think that’s the beauty of it. I don’t think, “Oh my God, I have to survive, I need to pay my rent”— a problem that all undoubtedly artists have.
But I specifically don’t want to be in a rush because this is what I’m painting: absolute infinity of life, movement, process, universe, everything and nothing at the same time. I never work from sketches or schedules. I begin, step away, return. The painting tells me when it’s finished. There is no “top to bottom” — only presence and return. This is how I protect the work from becoming heavy or forced.
T&C: That’s why you make it playful for yourself.
IW: Precisely why I said that you just need to take a step back and switch off your mind, to play for yourself by yourself — it’s how you remind yourself that you are a child. It makes you feel.
T&C: You live a double life — IT professional by day, artist by night. How did that happen?
IW: My mother was practical. In our generation, parents pushed for stability — doctor, economist, lawyer. I followed that path to make them proud, studying full-time at two schools simultaneously: regular classes from 8 a.m. and art school until 9 p.m. That discipline shaped me. Today it allows me the freedom to run rare.weg not as a traditional gallery, but as a playground for experimentation — a small, supportive space where artists can show work without fear of being judged or whatsoever.
T&C: That philosophy extends to how you run rare.weg. It’s not a traditional gallery.
IW: I want to create an environment that feels like a playground, where you can experiment and learn from one another. Since we have a small space, there’s no need to be overly serious – you can freely showcase whatever you create in art without fear. The people who join us are all very easygoing and supportive. To us, it’s not just a gallery, but a studio of freedom for all artists.
T&C: The current exhibition, UA Art Salon, features six Ukrainian artists. What was the intention behind it?
IW: I wanted to challenge the narrow perception many people still hold of Ukrainian art — that it is only folkloric or traditional. The young generation in Ukraine thinks and feels exactly like young artists in New York, London, Paris, Tokyo, Seoul, Beijing, or anywhere else: overwhelmed, searching for connection, pushing boundaries. Through this show I am protecting something fragile — the right to be seen as contemporary, complex, and forward-looking, not defined by stereotypes or distant propaganda.
T&C: What do you want people to take away from UA Art Salon?
IW: That Ukrainian artists today carry new ideas, new languages, and new ways of seeing. I want to let people know that Ukrainian artists also have new ideas and perspectives. We’re not old school. It just feels different. We have so many stereotypes and propaganda from other countries. That’s why I want to have human connections. With the internet, people tend to generalise everyone within the country, until you start to research and meet real people from that place. Then, you’ll begin to understand that it’s not as it seems.
Until 15 May, rare.weg remains open — not as a white cube, but as a living space where colour, conversation, and quiet revelation are always welcome. Come with open eyes. Stay as long as the layers ask you to.
