I was born in 1994, in Chernihiv, Ukraine.
I live and work in Kyiv.
Historian by training.
I graduated from the Conceptual Course
and Fine Art Photography at MYPH school in 2020.
I work with toys mostly, Barbie in particular.
Barbie is an interesting object to explore, because these dolls are created in the image and likeness of a human being. They are static, always smiling and happy with everything happening to them, no matter what is really going on during the photo session. And it looks strange and unnatural, so it makes you think about the limits of what is really acceptable.
My work is based on images that emerge from the depths of the subconscious. Therefore, I am completely okay with free interpretation of my paintings along with my own vision.
I am interested in the topic of violence against the human will, probably because I grew up in a religious family. Sometimes, you can feel the tension that is about to explode between the characters, and my job is to ensure I show them a minute before the total loss of self-control… Although, you know that Barbies smile in spite of everything and anything.
I create collages based on photos of a burned-out apartment combined with pictures of Barbie or other objects.
It is unbelievably frightening to get back into the ruined house, where you used to live for four years before the war started. In the house, from which, unfortunately, not everybody was rescued safe and sound. Where your most precious memories just burned down, things from your loved ones and your past been destroyed and disappeared into the flames, irrevocably turning into ashes.
You turn on a flashlight and your heart shrinks: what if a beast suddenly flies out of the closet? Most likely it has already been let out, and is breathing down your neck right behind you.
Where are you? (2022 — ongoing)
Life got divided into ‘before’ and ‘after’. I got already used to thinking (like many residents of Ukraine) about what will happen if tomorrow I find missing a couple of my friends or loved ones. I totally understand (not by hearsay), what it feels like to worry about your parents’ house, which was hit by a Russian shell. And, obviously, about your parents, too.
These things are too banal to be painted in detail. The struggles, pain, and loss became our mundanity, like oatmeal for breakfast.
In this project, I mourn losses. Mine, which had already happened, or which could possibly do so. My fellow countrymen, because each and every piece of news about death due to the war reminds me that all these people could live and live. Happily ever after, as in a fairy tale.
The question ‘Where are you?’ is addressed to a person, who I am terrified to lose, or lost already. Or to God, begging for help, but who knows: maybe we lost Him as well?
