At Gallerie Lorien back in October 2022, I had the privilege of interviewing Ughetta Dallimonti – a talented artist unveiling her book of drawings and poems. That conversation wasn’t just a milestone for her; it became a moment of personal reflection and inspiration for me. It was a day to pause and admire rather than critique, to celebrate the resilience and creativity of a foreign artist leaving her unique imprint on the cosmopolitan city we both call home.
Image credit: Angélique Sanossian
Today, I’m setting aside my usual analysis of Copenhagen’s art scene to shine a light on a success story—a fierce, self-aware artist who has defied the odds with relentless determination. I remember the ease of our conversation vividly, as Ughetta trimmed my hair (she is also a very talented hairdresser!) and spoke with quiet confidence about her vision:
“Angelique, I’m working on this mirror project, and it’s not for plain white walls. It needs a space with soul (rich and special)”
Fast forward to her exhibition, Reflections, at the iconic Brønshøj Water Tower—a venue that felt tailor-made for her project. Built in 1928, this 34-meter-tall functionalist landmark once stored water for Copenhagen’s Brønshøj district. Now repurposed, it hosts cultural events, blending its rich architectural history with modern creativity.
On a rainy day, I arrived at the tower with my family and immediately felt its magnetic energy. The space was alive—giant concrete pillars adorned with Ughetta’s artworks, surrounded by the warm glow of scattered candles. Walking through the exhibition was like stepping into an otherworldly journey. I traced the path twice, trying to absorb the depth of each piece, but what struck me most was a surge of pride.
I couldn’t help but say it out loud: “You did it, Ughetta. You found the perfect space. Your vision looks exactly how you imagined it.”
This wasn’t just an exhibition; it was a testament to what happens when passion meets perseverance—a story worth celebrating. I couldn’t help but ask:
Can you tell me a bit about yourself, what’s your story?
A story of creativity that has been a part of me since childhood. My journey began with an art college in Italy, followed by studies in graphic design and countless personal explorations of different art forms. In 1999, I embarked on a transformative chapter in London, where the city’s eclectic energy fueled my passion. Music, dance, and culture became my muses, alongside my greatest inspiration—becoming a mother.
In Copenhagen, where I’ve lived since 2018, I continue my creative path. My work combines drawing with poetry, as reflected in my first book, and experiments with various mediums, from watercolors and inks to mixed media with mirrors. My art often explores figures immersed in the mysterious shades of the night—moonlight, twilight, and candlelight—creating dreamlike narratives inspired by personal experiences, music, and movement.
For me, every piece is a journey into emotion, inviting viewers to discover their own stories within.
How did it all begin?
The idea came when I was looking at some of my past artworks,” Ughetta recalls. “I’d worked with ripped paper before, where the art was inside the torn layers. I wanted to create something similar with glass. I started brainstorming with a friend—’Could I scratch a mirror?’ I had a small one at home, so I tried. When it worked, I was thrilled! That’s when I began collecting mirrors and continued developing the project which took 2 years.
Where did you find the mirrors?
A couple were from England, but most of them came from second-hand shops around Copenhagen. Altogether, I gathered 12 mirrors over two years, deciding on the paintings and the scratch designs for each.
What is the story behind the project?
My goal was to create a dialogue between the audience and the mirror. At first, viewers are curious wondering who this character in the art is, where they’re going. Then, they see themselves reflected in the mirror, and it becomes a deeply personal experience. That connection was central to the project.
Image credit: Angélique Sanossian
How did you secure the Water Tower as your exhibition venue?
I fell in love with the space after attending a few performances there—dance, alternative music, sound art. Initially, I dreamed of holding the exhibition in a church, but the tower captured my imagination. Still, I was scared. The space is massive, and my art is small. How could I fill it?
How did the collaboration with the Water Tower begin?
I found their website and decided to send a proposal. Honestly, I didn’t expect them to say yes—but they did, offering me a few slots. I chose November, and it felt surreal, like it was my lucky day!
The location typically had projectors and lights available for use, but I wasn’t familiar with how they worked. Instead, I decided to create an entire candlelit experience. I felt this approach would be more impactful, as the gallery’s white walls wouldn’t provide the same atmosphere as the warmth and intimacy of candles. The setting perfectly complemented the experience I wanted to create. Essentially, I curated my own exhibition from scratch.
Without a gallery or PR, how did you manage?
The Water Tower added the event to their website, but the rest was me. A friend helped me with driving my art to the space another friend assisted with installation. IMMART supported me through social media by posting about the event, but everything else—flyers, word-of-mouth promotion—I did myself. After living in Denmark for seven years, I leaned on my network.
What were your fears?
I worried that my art would look lost in such a big space. And, of course, I was afraid no one would show up. While many friends came, I wish more people from the art world—gallerists and curators—had attended. I hoped someone would see the exhibition and say, ‘Wow, let’s work together.’ That didn’t happen, but it’s okay. The people who did come made it all worthwhile and I know everything starts with small steps.
What was your happiest moment during the exhibition?
Seeing people arrive with flowers and hearing them say, “Well done,” filled my heart with gratitude and warmth, melting away the chill of the cold tower. I was so excited that I barely felt the cold—both literally and figuratively—because I had accomplished all of this on my own.
During the exhibition’s opening days, I estimate around 120 people visited. Most were locals from the neighborhood, fellow artists, friends, and family. Now, a few days later, when I’m no longer physically and mentally drained, I can finally celebrate and process it all.
At the opening, Lilu Barret played the handpan, creating a beautiful, atmospheric fusion that perfectly complemented the exhibition. Lene Dangaard Thomsen also captured a video that offers a wonderful glimpse of the opening day.
Image credit: Angélique Sanossian
Did journalists or art professionals attend?
An Italian magazine interviewed me online. Beyond that, I invited about 30 gallerists by email, but only one replied, wishing me luck and what I can say, they missed out on the experience.
Why are the characters in your art always women?
I’ve always been better at drawing women. If I try to draw a man, he ends up looking feminine—that’s my style. I’ve accepted it because it feels authentic to me. I can’t force myself into landscapes or activism—it’s not who I am. I’m staying true to my motive, my art.
What challenges do independent artists face in Copenhagen?
It’s a closed circle. If you’re not from the Danish Art Academy, it’s incredibly hard to break through. I even spoke with an art marketing coach who confirmed my struggles. As a single mom working three days a week, it’s tough to find the time and resources to fully dedicate myself to art. I see many successful women artists supported by their partners, and I can’t help but feel a bit envious. If I had that kind of support, who knows what I could achieve?
What did this experience teach you?
Patience. It showed me that if I have a vision, I can make it happen, little by little. I didn’t have a Plan B if the Water Tower had said no. But it worked out, and I feel like it rained in my garden this time.
They say, “If you can make it in the Big Apple, you can make it anywhere,” referring to New York. Similarly, giving birth without an epidural is often seen as a feat of empowerment, a testament to inner strength and resilience. But does pursuing a career in art—fighting for exhibitions and recognition—really need to be this hard? Why is steering an artistic path often equated with enduring relentless struggle?
What is next for you?
I don’t know. I’d love to spread these mirrors across Copenhagen or take the project elsewhere. But I also want to experiment with new materials and ideas. The mirrors were a milestone, but I’m ready to explore.
Ughetta’s exhibition wasn’t just an artistic achievement—it was a testament to resilience and self-reliance. While the road ahead remains uncertain, her mirrors have reflected not only her art but her unyielding determination to carve a space in the art world, one scratch at a time.
Ughetta’s homepage: Blue like midnight by Ughetta
Ughetta on Instagram: Ughetta Dallimonti (@bluelikemidnight.art)
Ughetta on Facebook: Ughetta Dallimonti
