The Paper's reporter Qian Xue'er
Photography artist Valery Katsuba's solo exhibition "Russian Romantic Realism", which is currently taking place at the Shanghai Center for Photography, features 36 masterpieces from the photographer's career, covering more than 10 of his major collections. Valery Cassuba was recently interviewed remotely by The Paper' Art Review.
Born in 1965 in the Soviet Republic of Belarus, Valery Katsuba' photography has his unique "nostalgia" and romance in the Greco-Roman aesthetic tradition to Russian realist art, which may be related to his identity as he was born in the former Soviet Union: for those who have experienced social upheaval and family separation, Kasuba's work captures the unchanging humanity of the fluid reality, who are strong and fragile, "Far from Home", The sailor in the story decides to learn about the world and plucks up the courage to begin his journey. In his story, I think that the way home is to find the way back to self. ”
The students and models at the Repin Academy of Fine Arts, the Russian athletes who participated in the Olympic Games, the men and women in the snow, as the title of the exhibition shows, Valery Kasuba's photography has a strong Russian character. In answering questions about his creative career, Kasuba often throws out stories one after another, along with the freeze-frame images that contain flowing emotions, reminiscent of those thick Russian literary masterpieces, as if telling stories in a romantic way is a natural habit of Russians, or that the cold and warm land itself is a romantic theater.
Kasuba's youth coincided with a "fission" in Soviet society and culture. Kasuba observes and struggles to adapt to the new art forms that emerged at the time, while at the same time, in the memories evoked by the birch trees in the countryside or the heavy snow in winter, his heart remains faithful to the feelings of realism and sensualism that have been "thrown in the trash". In later artistic creations, Kasuba uses a narrative visual language to show the unchanging emotions and experiences of the flowing reality.
At the exhibition hall of Shanghai Center of Photography, photographer Valery Katsuba's solo exhibition "Russian Romantic Realism"
The habit of combining images with text in Kasuba's work is no accident. In addition to Russia's great literary tradition, Kasuba read a great deal of Russian and Belarusian literature from an early age, while his father was an amateur photographer. In Cassuba's view, photography and writing can bring out each other's strengths in the narrative, creating another layer of "dimension". In Far Away from Home (2004-2014), the protagonist Sailor stages a story based on love, loss, and rediscovery. The text attached to one of the photographs reads, "... At the end of the road, a small boat stopped by the river. A sailor sat inside. He left the riverbank, and the waves carried him to where the clear gray waters of the river met the lead clouds—leading him into a world unknown to him...".
Like the river in front of the sailors' eyes, history has propelled the Russian nation around the world, maintaining a complex relationship with their homeland between dispersion and homecoming. In Kasuba's view, Russians want to understand the world and "don't want to go anywhere." Speaking of this, he still uses Far From Home as an example, "The sailor in the story decides to learn about the world and plucks up the courage to start his journey." In his story, I think that the way home is to find the way back to self. ”
Valery Cassuba
Dialogue | Valery Kasuba
The Paper: The exhibition is called "Russian Romantic Realism", how do we understand this?
Valery Cassuba: The shanghai center of photography that came up with this title, I think it's very appropriate. I've been thinking about the word "realism" for my work, but I can't answer what kind of realism it is. My friend suggested using "magic realism" to imply my admiration for Latin America. However, Latin American magic realism — like that of the great writer Gabriel García Márquez — is a little different. I waited for it all to take shape, and now it has happened in Shanghai.
Russian and Soviet culture had a great influence on me. But the first thing that affected me was the environment in which I grew up, the landscapes, the villages, the cities and the people there. Growing up in a village in Belarus in the former Soviet Union, I was immersed in everything beautiful around me, everything I could see, read, hear or see on Moscow television. I like to observe the "universe" of small villages and look for things that are pleasing to the eye. I like to pay attention to and remember scenes where people look natural, as well as grandiose or poetic rural landscapes. I remember it all, remember the changes in nature, the seasons, the weather and the light. Then I went to St. Petersburg – a bastion of classical artistic traditions in Russia and the world – to study, to live in the crowds and cultures of that city.
At the beginning of the reforms, I had just graduated from the Saint-Petersburg Maritime Academy; apparently, our new art was beginning to oppose the typical art forms of the Soviet era. Socialist realist art, art based on folklore, pre-revolutionary realism, is now regarded as a relic of the old times. Kazimir Malevich was the harshest critic of these styles, arguing during the Reformation that all academic art should be thrown in the trash or sealed in archives, but it was still a force.
I try my best to adapt to and support the art that has emerged in times of change. But sometimes in the middle of the night, when resting at home in St. Petersburg, I think of a birch tree in our village, covered by heavy rain in November or the first snow of winter, and our history teacher walked by, and I remember her always dressed as if to praise the world around her. Sometimes, I revisit the impressions I see in St. Petersburg and the suburbs.
These images and impressions reconcile my thoughts and feelings, and I have been faithful to them, waiting, without telling my revolutionary friends. At the beginning of the 21st century, when the wave of opposition to realism, sensualism and traditionalism had weakened in Russia and art was reconceived, I started my first project, the first narrative (my photography often unfolds in the form of a narrative), consisting of portraits of my friends in the urban or rural landscapes of St. Petersburg called "Four Seasons, My Friend". As described by this solo exhibition in Shanghai, it is a good demonstration of my Russian (and to some extent Belarusian) romantic realism. The project was exhibited at the 2005 Moscow Photography Biennale.
Birthday Lunch in July in the Cherry Orchard by the Orangery River, Roger Stveno, Four Seasons, My Friends series, 2000
I have lived in Russia since I was 16 years old, so in general I am a Russian artist of Belarusian origin. Russian Romantic realism is all about the poetic moments in our lives, about how they are constructed, given literary meaning, photographed, and combined to form what karen Smith, the curator of the exhibition, call "the personal epic of an artist."
The Paper: Compared to conceptual photography or photography that combines multiple techniques, does your creation look quite traditional and figurative? Is this entirely from Russian tradition, or is there something else?
Valery Cassuba: It all started with my childhood observations of the world around me and my desire to "remember" the images and impressions that had influenced me aesthetically and semantically, and I found balance, harmony and confidence.
The Russian art that has influenced me is very diverse. As I said earlier, first of all I have a certain impression of the world around me. Then I started looking for ways to express and retain those impressions. I grew up in the Soviet Union and was influenced mainly by the russian realist art of the 20th century, but also by Russian and Belarusian literature. On the other hand, although it may sound strange, the prevalence of figurative art at that time did not really allow us to appreciate its merits, and for this we had to look at everything that Malevich's supremacy, Cubism, and avant-garde presented, and the reform provided precisely this opportunity.
To find ways to express my own impressions, I studied and evaluated many art forms. I try to understand how to "retain" images that I like. Rome, Florence, Venice, Naples, Madrid Prado, the Tretyakov Art Gallery in Russia, the museums in Mexico – these are my "libraries". After reading so much, I returned to what I was interested in and cherished— the Italian Renaissance, the Classical Era, Spanish Mannerism, Social Realism, the Russian "art world," and avant-garde. In these styles, and in the works of Picasso and Dalí, sometimes I find some sort of figurative art that I like.
I was born in a Belarusian village surrounded by forests, lakes and fields, and graduated from a maritime academy. So for a long time — and even now sometimes — I'll feel a little cowardly in the face of the "great art world" and its art reviews. I look for identity and understanding in the "library." After finding it, I finally dared to show my earliest works to St. Petersburg artist Timur Novikov and Olga Sviblova, then curator of the Moscow House of Photography. To my surprise, they were supportive of me. That's how it all started. I still use large-format "figurative" film machines, and it seems to me that even today, it still expresses the volume and color closest to nature.
The Paper: The exhibition gives the impression that you have inherited the ancient Greek tradition of fascination with the perfect human body? Why?
Valery Cassuba: I remember it was a day in December. Wet snow, low-hanging skies, deep blue clouds. My friend Yury Vinogradov and I were walking in Pavlovsk Park on the outskirts of St. Petersburg. On a hill in the middle of a dense forest, we stumbled upon a meadow. Around the meadow are some replicas of bronze statues of ancient heroes, which appear bleak over time. Even here, on a meadow in the Woods of Russia, these ancient heroes— the ones we remember most clearly, the discus throwers— struggle to maintain the same elegance and awe. I asked myself again: What makes the art of these Old Masters so appealing? I thought about the models posing for the Old Masters and decided to do my own artistic research to find out whether anyone in our generation was suitable to be a model for the classical era, and how much our standards and perspectives on the human body had changed. I think you can find those answers in my work, especially the Athletes series set in The Battle of the Gods and Giants.
Gymnasts by the Canal in Grebnoi, St. Petersburg, Body Culture series, 2006
"From a rope on the Olegger River, Rozger Stveno" Series of works in the "Body Culture", 2006
The Paper: You wrote on your homepage, "I've always been interested in the relative immutability of landscapes — whether it's a natural landscape or an architectural landscape — and the historical time, human destiny, and faces that travel through it." "Are you more interested in eternal things than in fluid reality?"
Valerie Cassuba: I wanted to make connections between different eras and find the kind that, despite the different times, still attracted our attention and enlightened us. I photograph students, models and professors at the Repin Academy of Fine Arts, and 100 years ago the great photographer Karl Bulla took his historic photographs in the same place; eternity, or relative eternity, surrounds a place like the Repin Academy of Fine Arts, which is interesting to me because it preserves the memories of generations of artists. Like heavy rain, it washes away the context of the times from the people who are in it today, connecting them with the people who have been there and the people who may be there in the future. It shows us something important within us, our beauty, what makes us special, telling us about our desires and hopes, now and in the future. These emotions bring inspiration and harmony to the sometimes stressful everyday life.
Painting Lesson with horses, Repin Academy of Fine Arts, St. Petersburg, Centennial series, 2014
Male Nude Models, Academy of Painting, Repin Academy of Fine Arts, St. Petersburg, Centennial series, 2013
I'm also interested in spatial variation and similarity. After completing the repin Academy of Fine Arts projects, I went on to shoot at the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando in Madrid. After I photographed local students, athletes and flamenco dancers, I set off for Mexico to photograph the students, as well as diving and ball players, at the Mexican Academy of San Carlos.
It's fun to photograph ball players in the neoclassical courtyard of the San Carlos Museum, a typical classical era space. From this I try to connect two parallel worlds that have existed for two thousand years without knowing each other, and try to find out whether there is something in common between the athletes of the two worlds, or whether they are very different. This question can also be found in the exhibition at the Shanghai Center for Photography.
Right now, it's important for me to "go all over the world" and continue to work in places like Havana and Shanghai. I observed the creative process of the Chinese students at the Repin Academy of Fine Arts, and I thought it would be interesting to do this kind of shooting in their hometown. I came up with an idea: "Model: Classical to Modern – St. Petersburg – Madrid – Mexico City – Havana – Shanghai".
The Paper: We can see that your photography is not about capturing a moment, but about conceiving it like a director, choreographer, or even a painter. Can you tell us about your shooting process?
Valery Cassuba: I just talked about the reasons for working in Mexico. The first thing I did when I arrived in Mexico City was to visit the Academy and carefully study its interior courtyard, the lines and colors of the building, where there are black and white marble floors, and in the center is a replica of the goddess of victory of Samoteras. I really liked the courtyard and immediately realized that I needed a couple of models.
During our filming in Mexico, art critic Jose Springer took on the role of producer and helped me. I asked him what sport Mexico is famous for, and he replied to me "diving." So we went to the Diving Association in Mexico, where we found our athlete model. We had to make costumes for them, and there was an athlete who liked to sew a swimsuit in his spare time, so I drew a sketch and she sewed it from the sketch. I decided to have the athletes stand like sculptures on the "podium" in the courtyard. We had to find the right podium and found it with the help of Carmen Gaitan, director of the San Carlos Museum. We painted it and cleared the courtyard. We organized a film crew with lighting, props and costume assistants. Angelina Valentino, the college's deputy dean, and her staff helped us a lot during the shoot.
Before I start shooting, I usually take a walk by the pool or in the gymnastics room, and when I'm walking or doing some monotonous exercises, I can concentrate on the upcoming shoot, and I can leave all the unnecessary things behind and understand how the shooting should be done.
When I was on set, as the set was flooded with lights, I started setting up the podium and building the frame. Then the models will walk up to the podium and we will rehearse their movements and poses. Photographers have to explain to the models how to move and how to stand, and in preparation for the shoot, I will always observe the models' training or competition, watch videos of diving competitions, and talk to them to better grasp what everyone is doing within the framework. You're right, it's kind of like a movie, a show, a choreography. I do enjoy creating my "film paintings".
Gymnasts in the Academy of Arts and the Goddess of Victory of Samoteras (2), St. Petersburg Repin Academy of Fine Arts, Body Culture series, 2016
Pyramid on the Steps of the Stock Exchange, St. Petersburg, Physical Culture series, 2006
For example, when filming the team in the courtyard of the San Carlos Academy Museum, there were some elements of "choreography". Before shooting, I visited a hill in the countryside outside Mexico City where the team was training, and I spent most of the day watching them train and taking pictures with my phone, so that I could show them how they should move while shooting. Everything was shot in motion. We had to make sure that the marble in the yard was safe, that we covered it with protective gear, and that we assigned protectors. The filming process was fascinating, like a true short film.
I also think about the filming at the Repin Academy of Fine Arts. A few days before the shoot, we had a "rehearsal" with the models, and the students would draw sketches and stick them to the wall during the actual shooting. Sometimes, I don't get the chance to shoot on such a large scale, but only shoot with a tripod, a camera, and film with different sensitivities.
The Paper: In addition to photography, you also write stories and add narratives to your photos, what role does text play in your photography?
Valery Cassuba: I started my career in art by writing essays and short stories. When I was in school, I enjoyed reading and writing in Russian and Belarusian. We have excellent literature teachers. At the same time my father was an amateur photographer and my mother was his "supermodel", and gradually my brothers Sergey and Alexandre became his models. So like it or not, I've been associated with literature and photography since I was very young.
For me, the hardest part of photography was the technical aspect, which is why when I was younger I was partial to literature, until I realized later that through photography you could make some kind of film, or aerial photography, such as the air gymnast in the Air Flight project. How do you describe a flight in words? It's best to take a picture and then choose the music and text that are connected to the photo, combined together, and they will bring out each other's strengths and create another layer of "dimension" while being self-sufficient. Taking "air gymnasts" as an example, I think it's best to photograph their flight and then write down other impressions.
Flying in the Air, Red Ribbon (1), Moscow, Flight in the Air series, 2010
Flying in the Air, Luzhniki (4), Moscow, Flight in the Air series, 2016
I like to work alternately between working with images and working with text. Some people say that changing your work is the same as resting, and they may be right. Literature and photography are different arts, but they can be friends. To prove this, I am preparing a book tentatively titled Stories and Pictures, which contains about 20 stories and 20 photographs.
On my last day in Buenos Aires in 2009, my friends and I had dinner on the long Santa Fe. We were greeted by a fat guy with blond hair and blue eyes. His slow movement made me suspect he was of Russian descent. I didn't guess wrong. Evgeny, the waiter's name, came to Argentina in the early 1990s from Voronezh , a city in the southwestern Soviet Union — when Russia was in crisis. He wasn't very talkative and didn't share his other stories with us. I decided not to ask him any more questions. When Evgeny finished his work and said goodbye to us, I dared to ask him if he had returned to Voronezh since moving to South America.
"No, I didn't plan to go there after moving to Argentina," he replied, pausing for a second before leaving, adding, "and there's no reason to go back now... There were almost no people I could visit. ”
He turned and walked along Santa Fe Avenue. I watched him leave. It was late. It was late at night. Only Evgeni, from Voronezh, walked on the desolate and endless Avenue of Santa Fe at the end of the Americas.
I watched him leave and thought about how difficult it was to migrate between the American continent and Russia in the 90s. I thought about Yevgeni's decision to stay in Argentina to start his life, how immigrants in the 16th and even 19th centuries felt when they set out for distant and unknown shores, and how they made those decisions. I think of the determination and sadness in Evgeni's eyes as he reminisced about his hometown, which we can always see in the eyes of Russians. How would such a story be filmed? I think it would be better to write it down and attach the text next to a photo from the Far Away from Home series.
《“...... At the end of the road, a small boat stopped by the river. A sailor sat inside. He left the riverbank, and the waves took him to where the clear gray waters meet the lead clouds—leading him into a world he didn't know...", "Far from Home" series, 2004-2020
《“...... And on frosty nights, when the stars twinkle above the river and the countryside stoves emit wisps of smoke, they often put on sheepskin coats and boots to go to the river, in the middle of the river, lying on the snow-covered ice, quietly looking at the stars..." "Far Away from Home" series, 2004-2020
The Paper: As Far From Home shows us, the Russian nation is always in a tension between separation and homecoming, as if they are eager to leave and want to go home. How do you understand this national identity of Russia and portray it in your work?
Valery Kasuba: "They both desire to leave and want to go home" is a good description of the state of some of my Russian friends and russians scattered around the world. Some will indeed come back. I remember the 1990s when I had tea and vodka with the famous ballet dancer Alla Osipenko at a Russian restaurant in New York called Samova, who had danced with Rudolf Nuriev and later immigrated to the United States. She was over sixty years old. At the end of the night, she suddenly said, "Valery, please understand, I have to go back to Russia." "She really went back.
Not long ago, I was in a laboratory in Moscow, and I was testing colors for an exhibition in Shanghai with my partner anna Nova at the St. Petersburg gallery. I also met with some friends, half of whom said they were considering leaving Russia.
Why is that? Probably because Russia is part of both Europe and Asia, both and neither. It is also a national identity, as is the drastic climate change on Russia's map, and Russians tend to express it in literature, music, film, and photography.
During and after the Revolution, a large number of Russians were forced to emigrate, including writers, musicians, singers, ballet dancers, etc., and such geniuses as Vladimir Nabokov and Alexander Vertinsky were among them. I think they have made the theme of "Russian immigration" to a certain extent part of world history and culture. The 20th century was also a very special time for Russia – not long after that, and the memories are still fresh. As soon as the possibility of unpredictable new changes emerged, many Russians began to think about leaving their homeland.
I remember one time we were filming with reindeer herders in the tundra and hills near Murmansk. One night, I was having tea with the innkeeper, and she told me the story of the northern flowers: how they showed themselves to the world in such a short northern summer, how the leaves of the birch trees trembled in the cold wind, and how precious and subtle this subtle beauty was to her.
As for what you said about "both longing to leave and want to go home," I would like to add to the Russians' idea that they want to learn about the world and not want to go anywhere. However, the sailor in the story of "Far From Home" decides to learn about the world and plucks up the courage to start his journey. In his story, I think that the way home is to find the way back to self.
Showroom scene
The Paper: Do you consider yourself a contemporary artist? Speaking of Russian art history, it seems that we are still stuck on the past achievements left by people such as Malevich, how do you see the contemporary art environment in Russia?
Valery Cassuba: Of course, I'm a contemporary artist.
Malevich has become known worldwide as a symbol of Russia's avant-garde artistic revolution, and rightly so. But in his time and in the years that followed, there were always great artists in Russia. I look at Russia's art from within, and at the same time I compare it to the process in the context of global art. In malevich's years, the excellent Natalia Goncharova or Ilya Mashkov were also working on their own. There is also artist Alexander Rodchenko and director Sergei Eisenstein. Meanwhile, on the European continent, Sergei Diaghilev's troupe created a ballet revolution; Alexander Deineka and Alexander Samokhvalov also began their own artistic journeys.
Returning to "Malevich's Revolution", I would like to point out that Zinekka's reappraisal of the academic tradition in the 1930s or Timur Novikov in the 1990s and avant-garde artistic thought were equally a soft revolution, as well as the creation of new art forms. The 1960s and 1970s also had their own painting revolution. Grigory Kozintsev and Sergei Parajanov made a great breakthrough for the film. I think these directors had an impact on world culture.
For various reasons, I don't evaluate Russian art today. At the beginning of the interview, I said that I found figurative art in the works of Picasso and Dalí. This can also be seen in Malevich's works in the early 1930s, such as his self-portrait and his wife's portrait. I greatly value the figurative art that emerged in this period, which was based on the combination of colors that Malevich had discovered earlier, thus announcing a new era of art. But that may also be just one of my romantic views on art history.
The exhibition "Valery Kasuba: Russian Romantic Realism" will run until August 29, 2021.
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