ARTIST VASYL RYABCHENKO: On Mythmaking, Paintings with the «Smell of Borscht», and Friendship with Roitburd

Vasyl Ryabchenko in the studio against the backdrop of his work «Prince» / Photo from the Artist’s family archive

 

If we imagine the journey of Ukrainian culture through time as something akin to Homer’s «Odyssey», Vasyl RyabchenkoⓘVasyl Serhiyovych Ryabchenko is an outstanding Ukrainian painter, graphic Artist, and photographer. He is one of the key artists of the «New Wave». Born in Odesa in 1954, he came from a family of Soviet graphic artist, with his father, Serhiy Ryabchenko, being a prominent figure. He graduated from the Odesa Art School, named after Grekov. From 1974 to 1976, he was a free listener at the Leningrad Higher School of Industrial Art, named after Mukhina. In 1983, he completed his studies at the Faculty of Arts and Graphics at the South Ukrainian State Pedagogical University, named after Ushinsky. The works of Vasyl Ryabchenko from the 1980s and 1990s, their themes, plots, and large-scale formats, laid the foundation for a new direction in Ukrainian visual art. Ryabchenko was one of the first in Ukraine to start working in the installation genre. Since the early 1970s, the artist has been actively experimenting with photography, which he later used in installations and collages, as well as incorporated into his paintings and digital graphics. In 1996, he received an award and the title of «Best Artist of Ukraine» at the first nationwide art festival «Golden Section». In the same year, he founded the creative association «Art Laboratory», would undoubtedly be one of its brightest key characters. His artistic myth about time and himself is multifaceted. In it, he appears before us as a painter, graphic Artist, photographer, and author of extraordinary art objects and installations.

Last year, Vasyl Ryabchenko turned 70. Our almanac editorial team could not overlook this significant event. The outstanding Master shared his thoughts with our readers on the nature of art, creative freedom, the Artist’s fate, and true friendship.

 

In all biographical texts, your connection to Odesa is emphasized. What does this city mean to you? How has its multicultural environment, a kind of combination of the incompatible, influenced your creativity?

1954, I was born in Odesa, a warm city in every sense. The environment surrounding me was incredibly nourishing, with its foundation being the people of Odesa. They are diverse in nationality but international and respectful in their communication with each other, both in business and personal relationships. Here, «people hurry slowly», enjoying life, valuing intellect, witty conversation, humor, entrepreneurship, optimism, love for the sea, Odesa, delicious food, brightness, beauty, and everything else that can be collectively called a Love for Life.

Naturally, this environment, as I grew and expanded, added new and new components, and this process continues to this day.

 

 

How important is it for a great artist to transcend boundaries — ethnic, cultural, and ideological boundaries? You emphasize your «non-conflictiveness», including in relation to the Soviet regime. Can art remain «pure», that is, outside of politics and ideology? Can creativity be conflict-free, or is it impossible to avoid the familiar conflicts of «the artist and the power», «the master and the crowd», and so on?

I believe that for a great artist, ethnic, cultural, and ideological boundaries are very conditional; he himself outlines them depending on his goals and needs. The territories within these boundaries are merely seen as a source of necessary components for his creativity.

As for non-conflictiveness: having inner freedom allowed me, as well as many respected artists in Ukraine, to create good and honest works without conflicting with the authorities, including the Soviet ones. I speak of my «non-conflictiveness» in the context of my vision for the development of art in general, with guaranteed «freedom of creativity», believing that its development should be evolutionary, without any restrictions in this evolution for each creative individual.

I am against revolutions, including cultural ones, born out of ideological, cultural, and ethnic «borders». They lead to a destructive dictatorship, dividing art and its creators into «us» and «them». Unfortunately, the consequences were very tragic.

Art may and should be different, both «pure» from politics and ideology, as well as connected with them. The choice is for those who create it, but dictating or preferring any particular trend is unacceptable.

 

 

The Russo-Ukrainian War… What should or can be the cultural response to it? Why do we almost never see a cultural response at a high, global level in Ukraine?

With the onset of the war, I began spending a lot of time in my studio, working on unfinished pieces. In solitude, I thought about the war and listened to how my soul was reacting to it.

I decided that creating works that reflect on evil means multiplying it and spreading the feelings that fuel and amplify it: aggression, hatred, a thirst for revenge, emotional pain, and fear. These feelings seem natural as a reaction to what is happening, but they, like a terrible disease, become firmly entrenched and «justified» in people and society.

Therefore, I create works based on other feelings that exclude evil — love, kindness, happiness, beauty, and harmony — which I wish to fill the future of Ukraine and the surrounding world with.

 

 

Every Artist creates not only their own cultural myth but also a myth about themselves. This process is often called «life creation». What is the «myth of Ryabchenko»? How did it come together?

I think the myth (story) of Ryabchenko and the myth (story) of me as an artist are inseparable and, in fact, merged together, forming the «life creation». There is just a small shift in time — the myth of Ryabchenko as a person has been written since 1954.

It is the story of a boy who was never bored or lonely. He found fascinating activities with little effort: he observed bugs, admired the green eye of the «VEF-Accord» radio lamp, watched his mother smooth out a perfectly wrinkle-free, snow-white starched sheet on the bed and arranged two large pillows with white pillowcases in a special way.

The boy loved beauty and always sought and found it everywhere. He drew a lot, and his parents liked his creations, collected them, and much has been preserved. Books: first coloring books, then illustrated books — The Golden Key, Chipollino, followed by reading books. His favorite childhood authors were Jules Verne and Mark Twain. Visits to museums: archaeological, art, and the Navy Museum.

 

 

There were many friends and acquaintances, and the large yard was filled with children of different ages. He could easily capture the interest of others with his hobbies. For example, he organized large-scale archaeological digs for a «dinosaur», with about ten boys and one girl (who documented the findings) participating.

He didn’t like school and didn’t make friends there. He experimented with chemistry, randomly mixing whatever he could find (was he searching for the philosopher’s stone?), and as a result, he ruined his mother’s favorite lacquered coffee table.

He began to think about choosing a profession — archaeologist, oceanologist, doctor, but I lived in a «house for artists» with a family of artists, surrounded by artists and the children of artists, most of whom went on to study at the M. B. Grekov Art School. In 1969, I became a student.

 

 

I really enjoyed studying, and I made many friends who were all focused on the same thing. Almost immediately, a leader and role model in the profession emerged — Volodya Teodor, a very talented, interesting person and an excellent draftsman. My friendship with him, as well as our joint, persistent drawing sessions during the day (as per the schedule) and in the evenings (we had the opportunity to draw until 9:00 PM), had a positive impact on my studies.

I graduated from the art school in 1973 with excellent results. That same year, I participated in my first art exhibition. The next two years were very important for me — I became a free listener at the Higher Art and Industrial School named after Mukhina (Mukhinka) in Leningrad.

 

 

This school was renowned for its free thinking and creative exploration. There, I had access to an excellent library, whose collection was regularly replenished with rare foreign publications on visual arts, architecture, and design. The Hermitage, in addition to its permanent exhibitions, offered the opportunity to visit interesting traveling foreign exhibitions.

The city itself, with its palace suburbs, became a place for my solitary walks and those with the «Odesa diaspora» that existed in Mukhinka. As a free listener, I studied in the monumental painting department alongside third-year students, drawing and painting their academic setups.

I became truly accepted and almost equal to them when I successfully painted a portrait of a girl in a black hat, for which I received universal approval. This period significantly changed my vision and attitude toward form, plasticity, and art in general. New horizons opened up.

 

 

In 1975, I returned to Odesa, and my father, after looking at my works, said that I had become a «leftist». That same year, in my father’s studio, I met and became friends with the colorful, charismatic, free-spirited, and very talented Valentin Khrushch, one of the representatives of «Odesa nonconformism». His friendship and support of my artistic exploration strengthened my confidence that I was on the right path.

I began actively participating in exhibitions with works based on my new views on form, plasticity, and color. It was during this period that an important component of my «life creation» emerged — the «myth-story» about the Artist Vasyl Ryabchenko. My «life creation» is shaped by my life, my work, and my constant need to learn and derive pleasure from it.

 

 

«Emptiness» — among the characteristics used to describe your bright, colorful, and figurative paintings, there is also this one. Is this characteristic justified? What does «working with» mean to you?

«Emptiness» is not a universal marker of my entire body of work. Initially, it was pointed out by the art historian I respect, Mykhailo Rashkovetsky, in his article about me.

He had access to the text I wrote for my project, Prince, in which I discussed the emptiness that troubles and frightens the main character (the Prince), which leads him to resort to «decorating the emptiness», throwing everything that comes to hand into it.

The outcome of the project was meant to be the creation of a museum for the «unrealized hero», in which part of the space would be filled with paintings of the same size, and what was depicted on them would serve as a random storyboard of a film whose length would be equal to the life of the Prince himself.

 

 

One can also speak of «emptiness» as a method I sometimes use in my work. First, it is a gaze into it, an exploration, and then — its filling. A canvas, a sheet of paper can be seen as a membrane, covering the emptiness, a membrane between non-being and embodiment, on the surface of which I reveal hidden images. These images fill the surface and are held there only by my decision.

Such a decision is difficult to make, and I often make changes because I strive to justify the appearance and existence of each of my works — I need to be sure that both the aesthetic and semantic components are convincing to me while still maintaining a mystery and enough «emptiness» for the viewer to begin interpreting, deciphering, and adding to it, meaning they engage in co-creation — this is very important for me.

 

 

Your extraordinarily intense creative life has already spanned many decades. Here are some questions: how do you see the development of world art in historical perspective? How have you changed? How do trends, movements, and styles change?

I hope that a time of important technological changes is coming, as a result of which humanity will be freed from fears of poverty, violence, disease, and the dependencies associated with them, which currently bind it.

There will be a reassessment of civilizational values, and time will be freed up for knowledge, self-knowledge, and creativity. Art will cleanse the themes and subjects of works from negativity, and the palette of artists will be illuminated. I think it will be very accessible, free from censorship, and open to discussions and debates.

The latest technological advancements will be used in art, which will lead to an incredible flourishing of the synthesis of arts. I believe that in art and creativity, their original component — spirituality — will return.

I want this to happen.

 

 

 

 

Do you agree that the postmodern era is coming to an end, and we are on the verge of a kind of «new realism»? What might await us beyond this new artistic horizon?

I believe that art is a constantly evolving process that reacts clearly to what is happening in society. Sometimes this is on the level of reflection, sometimes it acts as an executor of public orders — ideological, religious, private, sometimes it attempts to act as a moral guide, and at other times, it tempts and seduces, justifying immorality.

For me, «postmodernism» is just a term that emerged relatively recently, and it is largely connected to the widespread access to a vast amount of accumulated information in all fields of knowledge and its conscious, and sometimes unconscious, combinatorics for creating new products.

Similar postmodern processes in art existed earlier and filled the «gaps» between the formation of «new styles». I think it is too early to consider the postmodern era finished. The emergence of AI and its use in art, in my opinion, will extend this era, but perhaps the name will change, and a new one will be coined.

 

 

Tell us about your friendship with Roitburd. Which contemporary foreign and Ukrainian artists would you particularly highlight?

My acquaintance with Sasha Roitburd, which later turned into a friendship, took place in 1978 during the entrance exam for drawing at the Art and Graphic Faculty of the Odesa Pedagogical Institute, named after K. D. Ushinsky, and it lasted until his passing.

By the time we met, Sasha had already received some background information about me. He knew that I was a «well-known» artist, a participant in exhibitions, had a studio, and was acquainted with many «official» (members of the Union of Artists) and «unofficial» nonconformist artists. I was friends with one of them — the legendary Valentin Khrushch — and had access to his apartment studio, where meetings and «apartment exhibitions» were held.

All of this piqued Sasha’s interest, so during our introduction, he complimented my exam drawing in a flattery-grotesque manner — it looked amusing, and we both understood it. He was an interesting person to communicate with, smart, erudite, witty, and fun to talk to. We didn’t just communicate during classes; we went to exhibitions, museums, discussed what we liked, and frequently met at my studio. Sasha would carefully examine my works and ask questions that showed he was clearly passionate about art.

Apparently, people talked about me within Sasha’s family, and I was introduced to his parents and began to visit their home. Anatoly Markovich, Sasha’s father, who had doubts and worries about his son’s choice of profession, made several attempts to talk to me «about what awaited him (Sasha)», wanting to hear the truth about the prospects of his son’s chosen path from a «knowledgeable person».

I outlined my vision for the development of their son’s career as an artist, assured him that Sasha would soon start participating in exhibitions, that I had already seen works by Sasha that were definitely worthy of being exhibited, and I promised to help him in this. I assured him that Sasha would soon gain the necessary number of exhibitions, first, join the «youth union» within the Union of Artists, then become a member of the Union of Artists and start earning.

 

 

At the time of our conversation, I was already familiar with the works Sasha was creating «for himself». I sincerely praised his coloristic abilities, and he could sense that. Perhaps from that time on, he always valued my opinion and often showed me his work to hear my feedback.

By the time he graduated from the institute, as I mentioned, Sasha had begun to participate successfully in exhibitions and, as a result, started to visit the capitals — Kyiv and Moscow, where he established connections and friendships with members of the local art scene. This would later influence both his and my life in art. He was always interested in the latest news in art, the newest trends that moved and changed him.

We often discussed trans avant-garde, as this approach naturally aligned with the painting tradition of Ukraine, especially Soviet Ukraine, where the dominant genre was «the painting». These were usually large-scale, emotionally charged, and ideologically driven figurative compositions on «serious topics».

The trans avant-garde approach allowed us to preserve the attractive aspects of «the painting» — painting with paint, large sizes, the figurativeness of compositions, and the emotional charge, while replacing the grandiose ideology with ironic pseudo-grandiosity. The ideology was completely removed, and the «serious topics» shifted to equally serious ones — the Bible, ancient mythology, personal mythology, and history.

 

 

The prospect of painting large canvases on themes that had inspired me since childhood, without illustrating them but rather improvising on them, was very appealing. My first «postmodern» works were dedicated to what had attracted me since childhood — freedom, the vastness of the sea, beauty, harmony — they were fantastical and mythological.

Then, based on a powerful breakthrough of previously concealed information related to the history of the USSR, in which I was born and lived, I created a series of large-format works as a reaction to this — the language of postmodernism was perfect for this approach.

Sasha also worked a lot with practically the same themes, but I used ancient mythology as the foundation of the storyline, while he used biblical mythology. We created quite a lot of such works, which is why Sasha initiated a series of «strange» but significant exhibitions for the art scene of Odesa.

Their significance also lay in the fact that they were held at the Odesa Art Museum. This was our joint achievement, as we managed to convince the museum’s director, Natalia Iosifovna Kaskо, «that the time for change had come for the museum».

 

 

The participants of the exhibition, in addition to us, were our fellow student from the art and graphic faculty, Serhiy Lykov, and his wife, Elena Nekrasova. The result of the exhibition became a major event. The museum hadn’t experienced such a high number of visitors in a long time, and the turnout for the exhibition’s discussion was so large that people were forced to stand. The opinions of the viewers were sharply and drastically different.

The buzz was serious, and we were immersed in it. Later, other equally large exhibitions followed, where artists from Kyiv, Moscow, and even foreign countries began to participate. We were invited to take part in projects held in Kyiv and Moscow.

 

 

The large Babylon exhibition held in Moscow presented new Ukrainian art and included a significant number of works from our «Odesa group». It resonated as a dissonance in relation to the trends forming in Moscow’s art scene.

A large contingent of conceptualists visited the exhibition. They stuck together as a group, moving from one work to the next, giggling, making sarcastic remarks, and, as a result, one of them said, «It smells like borscht». I think from that moment on, all the participants of the exhibition became part of the art community now known as the «New Wave».

Undoubtedly, Sasha was significantly ahead of me in terms of advancing his creative career, and I must note that he tried to pull me along in these matters. He repeatedly advised me to start holding solo exhibitions, but unfortunately, I only listened to him once and held my one and only solo exhibition at the Kyiv Blanc Art Gallery titled Naked Dreams.

 

 

 

 

The result of this exhibition was excellent. I was named «Best Artist of 1996» and received the Golden Section award. At that time, I was deeply influenced by the views that nonconformist artists followed in their relationships with the audience, namely, the idea that the Artist should not explain their works, etc., which was completely at odds with what was needed to promote a postmodern artist or any contemporary artist.

Sasha tried to help me, just as I had tried to help him in the past.

Then, Soros came to Ukraine with his «Renaissance» foundation, the Soros Center for Contemporary Art (CCSA) appeared in Kyiv, and in Odesa, the «New Art» association was created — an undisputed creation of Sasha Roitburd. During this period, a large number of significant and large-scale projects were carried out in Odesa and Ukraine.

The story of our friendship and relationships could form the basis for writing a large and interesting book. Our relationship and friendship were by no means smooth, but we constantly stayed in touch, kept up with each other’s creative and family lives, periodically resumed meetings, and exchanged opinions on the issues that interested us.

I particularly remember our last meeting.

 

 

Sasha invited me and my Lenochka to his home. At the agreed time, we arrived, having bought a bottle of wine and a large watermelon. The door was opened by Kirill Lipatov, who soon left. In a very large, dimly lit living room, my sick friend was half-reclining in an armchair, clearly feeling very unwell, constantly changing positions, unable to find comfort.

In front of him was a bottle of his favorite red wine, which he could only buy at one place in Odesa. He poured some for us and tried to drink it himself, diluting it with water, but neither he nor we could manage to drink it. It was heartbreaking to watch, but we couldn’t let it show, and I began walking around the living room, examining the part of his personal collection that remained — the rest had been donated to the museum.

I approached a large table by the window, where canvases were lying, taken off their stretchers. On one was a portrait of Sasha’s mother, and on the other, a portrait of his father. I began to speak aloud, recalling them, and said that both portraits were very successful and warm.

This seemed to give Sasha some strength, and he began talking about his plans to paint mallows. I could easily imagine how he would paint them in his unique style. He said he intended to do it after the surgery he was about to undergo, which would be scheduled and decided in Kyiv, where he was going for an examination and consultation.

But less than a week passed before Galina Sklyarenko called and asked, «Is it true that Sasha Roitburd passed away?» The answer to this question came at the cemetery from the rabbi, who addressed everyone present and said that a person lives as long as they are remembered. In our family, we remember Sasha.

As for the artists I consider to be great — there are many. They come from different countries and eras. Their work attracts me because when I look at their works, I believe in their sincerity and professional honesty — Van Gogh, Anselm Kiefer, David Hockney, Marc Chagall, and from Ukraine — Alexander Hnylysky, Oleg Tistol.

 

 

Are you in agreement with the idea that every artist has their own «philosophy»? Sometimes, it is conscious and conceptualized, sometimes not. Does Ryabchenko have a philosophy — as an artist and as a person? How does your worldview look? One can judge it based on your works — it’s a complex, unusual, one-of-a-kind world… But what if we try to verbalize this worldview?

I am interested in philosophy, but I don’t feel the need to follow any of the many philosophical directions. To live, to know, to create by adhering to any of them is to be unfree. For me, freedom has been the most important part of life since childhood, so I move through it with my creativity, listening to my intuition. Knowledge of philosophical theories is just fuel for my intuition. To verbalize (describe in words or writing) the worldview I create — this is a kind of proposal to engage in a new form of creative activity. I will honestly say that this attracts me, and for the last 15 years, I have been thinking about it. Maybe the fact that I am currently writing answers to your insightful questions will motivate me to do so.

 

 

In addition to paintings, you have wonderful photographic works and installations. Did you turn to them because something was «missing» in the painting?

Photography is a technology that attracts me because it documents the very fact and authenticity of what is captured in it. This is especially true for photography taken using an analog method on film.

I have a lot of such films, and what is captured in them is very precious to me. I find many shots so successful that I dream of holding a photo exhibition or publishing a book of memories, where the illustrations would be my photos about the life of my family, loved ones, friends, acquaintances, and everything that caught my attention and seemed important.

Contemporary digital photography, as a photo document, raises more skepticism compared to analog photography, as it is easily subject to processing, correction, retouching, and other manipulations with the original image. But it is precisely this feature that makes it an excellent tool for an artist’s work.

 

 

I love both photography and visual art, but they attract me for different reasons. In photography, it’s the ability to stop time and capture, document the subject at the moment of pressing the shutter. In visual art, it’s the way it works more with the inner essence—the image of what is being depicted.

That’s why I don’t have a desire to make photographs that externally imitate painting, or vice versa, painting that imitates photography. I believe it is possible to mix and use these wonderful technologies in my installations and collages.

I have a fairly large collection of photographs that are, in essence, a photo documentation of the process of creating my installations, and I present them as art works. I turned to photography and installations because they became interesting to me. For the same reason, I made sketches for theatrical productions and costumes, worked in architecture and interior design, and even sculpture.

If there were enough time allocated to realize everything that interests me and everything I would like to do, I would live an incredibly long life.

 

 

Surely, in the creative process, an artist encounters certain paradoxes of thinking… Do you remember the line by Mayakovsky: «…the poet is afraid to forget a word born in the torments of nights, equal in greatness to God?» Are you familiar with the feeling of being a «creator of worlds»? Is there a work you would not write now? How to approach it if the concept is so grand that it seems difficult to achieve?

In my younger years, I had a similar feeling and even wrote about it in my text for the «Prince» project — «He was born a Prince, within him lived the power of GOD», and so on. At that time, I thought about creating a museum of unfulfilled heroes, and I had many plans for the future. I still remember them and even develop them in my mind, but I am increasingly distancing myself from them.

I do not have enough time to complete many of the works I started earlier. I do not feel fear of the grandeur of projects, as I did before and still don’t, but I am cautious about starting something I may not finish. However, one must try.         

 

 

Mysticism and creativity. Surely, in your extensive creative biography, there have been some inexplicable, mystical events?

I believe that the first artists and their images were part of magical, mystical rituals that established a connection between man and the Creator. Sometimes, under the influence of the information flow and the society in which the artist is, they unknowingly create strange, incomprehensible, meaningless works, which, much later, after years, acquire meaning and turn out to be prophetic.

I have such works, and I will tell you about one of them. I began painting it spontaneously, triggered by a small sketch, which only outlined certain compositional masses, lacking concreteness and detail. Despite this, I started the work, and even the canvas of the right size happened to be at hand.

I worked on it for several days, but I didn’t understand what it was about. Then came a series of pauses in the work, quite long ones. During these breaks, I began to receive various kinds of information «in dreams and in reality» about the missing components of the work. I spent almost a year adding to it, but it still wasn’t finished.

One day, I came across an old, worn-out magazine where there was a photograph of an older man with a tube of lipstick near his lips, wearing a naval cap with ribbons. I realized that this was the last missing part of the painting, and it turned out that the place for the sailor’s image had already been prepared in advance. I painted it.

The work came together compositionally and plastically, although the plot and meaning were still unclear, and I didn’t know what to call it, but I quickly signed it. The next day, I started refining the sailor’s image, looking at the photo — and realized I hadn’t painted the star on his cap or the inscription «Black Sea Fleet».

The work immediately received the title «Crimea». It was started in 2008 and completed in 2009. In 2014, Crimea was annexed. The work is now part of the collection of the Odesa National Art Museum.

 

 

 

Sociologically speaking, we are all products of our environment. You have the opportunity to compare the creative, exhibition, and overall art scene in Ukraine, Europe, and the USA. Could you share your thoughts on how you perceive these cultural differences?

I don’t take the liberty of positioning myself as an expert who can provide exact characteristics and draw comparative features of the art scenes in these territories. On the surface, they are quite similar — a colorful, noisy scene consisting of artists, art critics, curators, gallerists, and the art world bohemia — everyone interacts, and during this time, work is being done: useful contacts and connections are made, and ideas are exchanged.

Usually, in Ukraine, this happens at the openings and closings of exhibitions. In the USA, it’s generally the same, with the difference that in large cities, there are gallery districts where galleries are concentrated, and nearby, artists work in their studios.

There is a practice where, on a designated date and time, galleries and artists’ studios (at their discretion) are open and accessible for visits. In their studios, artists create small exhibitions of their works. While purchases can be discussed, the works are usually sold through a middleman — a gallery, the business card of which the artist will provide.

 

 

You are a representative of a creative dynasty. It must be a special feeling to be connected to a «creative line» that started long before you and will continue after you. People argue whether talent, a sense of beauty, and a love for art can be passed down by inheritance. Why do you think it worked in your family?

Indeed, the dynasty emerged, and its founder was my father. His talent as an artist sought a favorable environment where it could develop and manifest. In his case, it wasn’t easy; according to my mother, my father’s talent broke through like «grass through asphalt».

Unlike my father, from the moment I was born, I found myself in a favorable environment for the development of talent: my father was an artist, the people around me were artists. This is an environment that lives in and by art, where an interest in studying and understanding it forms on a subconscious level.

 

 

 

 

The environment in which our children, three of them, were born and developed was also favorable, and even more so, given that both of us are artists. If we follow the idea that talent is inherited, then our family dynasty should have produced three more artists. But the talent of our undoubtedly very gifted children manifests itself in different ways.

In my case, talent was subtly but purposefully awakened, and the environment supported this, as it was simply the norm there. I was encouraged to draw; from childhood, I attended a studio at the Pioneer Palace, then the art school at the Grekov Odesa Art College, and later, the college itself. It was there that my talent developed, as it was there I realized that I was moving in the right direction, and with no doubts, I chose the profession of an artist.

 

 

I did not prepare our eldest son, Stepan, for the profession of an artist, knowing the drawbacks of the profession. Therefore, I did not specifically teach him to draw or force him to, although there were two attempts to send him to art school, but he didn’t enjoy it there.

However, he was always interested in being around me in our apartment studio and observing how I worked. Often, this sparked his desire to draw, and he would draw on the paper allocated to him, on the canvases I was working on, or he would start creating constructions from toys or specially selected objects — essentially, making his first installations.

Elena and I often visited exhibitions and other «cultural events», and Stepan was always with us. Like almost every child, he was initially into computer games, and later, when we got a computer at home, he mastered it better than I did. By the time he finished school, he had decided on the profession of an architect. It was at this stage that he attended preparatory drawing courses for applicants.

At the architectural academy where Stepan enrolled, he began to use the computer as a tool that helped him bring his imagination and vision of architecture to life. Although his projects have not yet been realized, they have received numerous awards at architectural competitions.

While still a student, he started creating «digital paintings» and went through a difficult journey as a pioneer, convincing curators, art historians, and gallerists that digital art is a legitimate form of art. He became the most famous Ukrainian digital artist in the world.

Our daughter Vera, who has been drawing since childhood and possesses excellent color skills, attended the art group of the talented artist Inna Fedorova. She found learning interesting but did not want to become an artist, although I believe she could have become an excellent illustrator. It turned out that her talent lies in studying art, culture, and languages.

Our youngest son, Sergey, has also been drawing passionately from childhood to the present day, but his special talent manifests in the musical field. He successfully creates music using a computer and digital technologies. His music is the result of a personal spiritual search. Through his music, he collaborates successfully with the animated visual projects of our eldest son, Stepan.

I believe that talent can manifest in any sphere of human activity, not just in the arts. Perhaps there is a talent dormant in every person, only the depth of the sleep of that talent varies: from very sensitive to deeply unconscious.

 

 

The last question — the traditional one: what are your creative plans?

«Happy anniversary, my friend! I wish you to spend the remaining third of your life in joy!» — this is the congratulatory message from my friend — a smart, wise, and insightful person — poet Ruben Ashrafian. He would not wish anything bad. Therefore, I will live as I have lived, and I very much want those I love and cherish to be near me, whether close or far.

 

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