In the heart of Rome, beneath the newly restored Arch of Janus, Marina Abramović unveils her first foray into bronze sculpture – a gleaming, gilded donkey that she calls a love letter to the city.

The modest animal, rendered in shining metal, carries a weight of symbolism. Historically a bearer of burdens and a humble pilgrim, the donkey becomes a quiet counterpoint to Abramović’s often confrontational performances. Its gentle presence references the artist’s recent explorations of spirituality, fragility and the rituals that have long inspired her.

At eighty, Abramović shifts from the body‑centred endurance pieces that defined her early career – from the raw exposure of Rhythm 0 to the intimate gaze of The Artist Is Present – to a work that invites contemplation rather than participation. The bronze form suggests a permanence that her previous ephemerality could never achieve, yet it still echoes the same questions about presence, vulnerability and the limits of the self.

Set against the ancient Roman backdrop, the sculpture creates a dialogue between past and present. The gold‑toned donkey reflects the marble and stone of the Forum while standing out as a contemporary emblem of empathy. Visitors are invited to pause, to consider the convergence of history, myth and personal narrative, and to experience, in Abramović’s words, a “confession of the soul” rendered in metal.

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