“Where Talent Falls Short, Skill Grows,” — Kyiv Artist Vladyslav Shereshevskyi
Vladyslav Shereshevskyi / Photo from the personal archive
Vladyslav Shereshevskyi is a Kyiv native who has lived in the capital since 1964.
He graduated from the Taras Shevchenko State Art School and the Department of Book Graphics at the Kyiv State Art Institute, although he has worked as a painter throughout his life. Since 1988, he has participated in exhibitions around the world, and in recent years has exhibited more frequently in Ukraine.
He began drawing at the age of 4, and his total creative experience now amounts to 55 years. Yet, as before, the process brings him immense inner pleasure, pushing other sources of enjoyment into the background — sports, drinking, women…
Above all, the artist values inspiration and believes that it comes in the process of working.
What is the first creative moment in your life that you remember?
The first truly creative moment in my life came when I was 7 years old — writing children’s fairy tales that I illustrated myself. Then I realized that drawing was faster than writing, and the process began to turn into something resembling comics.
What is your creative ambition?
My main ambition is to be able to achieve what I envision. I conceive an idea — and bring it to life. At the beginning of my creative journey, I wasted a great deal of canvas and paint. I want to enjoy every brushstroke, so that it remains untouched and does not have to be painted over.
What stands in the way of realizing your creative ambitions?
Sometimes fatigue sets in. For example, right now — after preparing 75 works for an exhibition, which I spent 9 months working on. When you open an exhibition like that, there comes a moment of reassessment and reflection. But I cannot really take a break because of the large number of commissions. Although these commissions are, in a way, a distraction: while working on them, the process of accumulating energy begins.
For you, is an exhibition a process of satisfaction? Or is it a source of nourishment and a way of drawing energy from the outside world, so that you can recharge for the creation of your next series of paintings?
At every exhibition, you communicate with the viewer — and that is undoubtedly a source of nourishment. I once had the experience of staging a play. At the time, the theatre’s leading actors earned $40 a month, and they worked for the applause. They would step out before the audience and receive such a powerful charge of energy from the spectators that it allowed them to stay afloat.
In my case, it works the same way. I once discussed this with a well-known rock musician. Thousands of people come to his concerts; 200–300 people come to my exhibitions. But his concert will end and people will leave, while people will continue looking at my paintings for many years to come.
When and how do you start your day?
I’m a morning person. Now, during the war, my hand immediately reaches for my phone — there’s no getting away from it. I always exercise in the morning and then get to work — I try to arrive at the studio as early as possible, where I drink coffee, talk with my friends, and work.
Which artists inspire you the most?
I have always had a deep reverence for the work of Vincent van Gogh and Rembrandt — they are two guiding lights in my life. Among contemporary artists, there is my friend and studio neighbor Matvei Vaisberg — even though I am more of a workaholic than he is, he has a very positive influence on me.
Are there people in your life whom you inspire?
I think so. They tell me so to my face (laughs). It is the next generation of young artists, and I am very pleased that this generation does not reject what was created before them.
How would you define a muse? And who is your muse?
First and foremost, it is my family. Their love is what drives me above all. My wife and children are my main source of motivation.
How do you react when you encounter superior intellect or talent?
I am no longer envious when I see a more brilliant artist. I am simply interested in observing them. The success of other artists no longer upsets me, as it did when I was in my thirties and forties. It so happened that my studio was always surrounded by other people, and when I was young, whenever a buyer came to one of my colleagues, it gave me a sense of defeat, like in sports. By the age of 45, that feeling began to fade, and it no longer bothers me. Today, moments like that do not concern me at all. Perhaps that is experience.
How do you understand mastery?
Where talent falls short, mastery grows. Let’s be frank: not all good artists are geniuses. I am not an absolute genius, to put it mildly, and I compensate for that lack of talent. I am far more skilled now than I was at the age of 7, although I produced excellent works both at 7 and in 1991. It is talent multiplied by daily work.
In our country, there are two or three artists who have 90% talent and 10% mastery. The others have 20–30% talent, while the rest comes from their capacity for hard work, which ultimately develops into mastery.
How do you react when you encounter obstacles on the path to success or face the threat of defeat?
Success comes regardless of us. I do not pay attention to obstacles; I simply keep moving forward by another route. I am not in the habit of retreating.
When the war began, I found myself away from both my home and my studio. But within just 7 days, I managed to obtain canvases and paints, although it was very difficult. For me, it was a form of healing, and at the same time, people expected this from me.
When people saw that I was working, they wrote to thank me. By starting to work in unfamiliar and uncomfortable conditions, I supported them through my own example.
What is your greatest dream?
I have one dream — to keep working until the very end. I have seen artists who, in the second half of their lives, lost their sight or developed other illnesses. So my dream is to remain at the easel with a brush in my hand until the very end. I have not had any major material aspirations for a long time, especially in light of the war. There is one immediate goal — victory.
Over the past decade, Ukraine has changed in the following way…
The Soviet mentality has noticeably begun to fade. Both in relationships between people and in everyday life. When meeting friends or getting together in a group, drinking is no longer necessary for enjoyable conversation. Now you can simply talk — this is what I would call “Europeanness.” Alcohol has ceased to be a catalyst for an interesting conversation.
What has changed in your hometown?
Architecturally, Kyiv is terrible. It can no longer be fixed.
If not your city, then which city in Ukraine…
At one time, I preferred Odesa — my roots are there. But now it is Lviv, where many of my friends live.
Can an enemy be forgiven?
No. Perhaps in a few generations. But now — no.
What is the best advice you have ever received?
Once, my teacher Viktor Zaretskyi, who thought I would become a painter, found out that I was applying to study book graphics in Tallinn. He was very troubled by it and had a lot to say on the matter, but in the end he told me: “You know, do whatever you want now. You will achieve what you need anyway.” I consider that quite a wise piece of advice.
Is there a phrase that guides you through life?
I must. And for that, you have to do something every day.
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