Digital photography. Limited edition prints size 125x108 cm, 77x66 cm
In Russian, "home" and "house" are the same word. So, in the minds of the older Russian-speaking generation, these concepts quite often replace each other. But, even now, given two different words with distinct meanings, do we really understand the difference? It seems that our ancestors knew it, but we do not.
Our first home was our mother's womb. This is a space where we were always warm and comfortable, where all our needs were met and we didn't have to ask for it. Birth is always a trauma for a child. This is the "expulsion from Paradise" into the dry, cold and dangerous world of a totally adult-dependent creature that must learn to take care of itself. Somewhere deep inside we all remember and yearn to return home, in the state we felt before we were born. Perhaps, behind all the technological achievements of humanity, lies this unconscious desire - to recreate the mother's womb: safe & comfortable, where needs are satisfied instantly upon thinking about them. But, as you have probably already proved yourself or you are on the way to it, it will not make us happy. Our inner potential is much higher than this and it will never give us peace.
Our first home was our mother's womb. This is a space where we were always warm and comfortable, where all our needs were met and we didn't have to ask for it. Birth is always a trauma for a child. This is the "expulsion from Paradise" into the dry, cold and dangerous world of a totally adult-dependent creature that must learn to take care of itself. Somewhere deep inside we all remember and yearn to return home, in the state we felt before we were born. Perhaps, behind all the technological achievements of humanity, lies this unconscious desire - to recreate the mother's womb: safe & comfortable, where needs are satisfied instantly upon thinking about them. But, as you have probably already proved yourself or you are on the way to it, it will not make us happy. Our inner potential is much higher than this and it will never give us peace.
For Ukrainians, the war was like a second birth. After all, no matter how well we adapted to the conditions after the first, on February 24, 2022 or 8 years earlier, we woke up in an even colder and more dangerous place, where we are again totally dependent on others. Now it became obvious that the walls and roof that protected us from the environment, where we felt comfortable, cannot give us feeling of safety any more. So, we must restore our integrity and find our true home: the state we have been striving for all our lives. In the conditions of war, when the surrounding world is completely destroyed, and there is no way to predict anything and feel safe, the only support you can still lean on is inside. In this meat grinder, where everyone to whom you can still be useful, who wants something from you and can get a piece of your attention, is hitting the keys on your emotional piano, the only chance to remain a human being in common sense is to realize your true self. Because for every false one, an electrode will be soldered.
At this very moment, our collective "I’m Fine-Express", after finishing another big circle, arrives at the same station from which our past generations started. They are all standing here on the platform, waving to me. They were there, in occupied Kherson: in lines for Russian humanitarian aid and passports, in looted warehouses and shops. I finally understand them. I finally forgive them. Everything is familiar here. The war has been going on all past years inside every heart of past and present generations, in someone it was louder, in someone it was a quiet echo. Enemies have always been around: among relatives, colleagues, neighbors and, first of all, among the closest people and parts of own psyche. Anxiety became the background state of mind and the best solution for them was emotional alienation: muting their own feelings, ability to empathize and sense their own bodies. Most of them, having experienced cruelty, became cruel to others, and, first of all, to themselves. Their children did not feel safe around them and fully experienced their emotional coldness, anxiety, hypervigilance and brutality. And then their children's children.
At this very moment, our collective "I’m Fine-Express", after finishing another big circle, arrives at the same station from which our past generations started. They are all standing here on the platform, waving to me. They were there, in occupied Kherson: in lines for Russian humanitarian aid and passports, in looted warehouses and shops. I finally understand them. I finally forgive them. Everything is familiar here. The war has been going on all past years inside every heart of past and present generations, in someone it was louder, in someone it was a quiet echo. Enemies have always been around: among relatives, colleagues, neighbors and, first of all, among the closest people and parts of own psyche. Anxiety became the background state of mind and the best solution for them was emotional alienation: muting their own feelings, ability to empathize and sense their own bodies. Most of them, having experienced cruelty, became cruel to others, and, first of all, to themselves. Their children did not feel safe around them and fully experienced their emotional coldness, anxiety, hypervigilance and brutality. And then their children's children.
The train will roll further. The longer the war lasts, the more men will go to the battlefront. Many of them will not return, some will return incomplete. Many of those who succeed living will not know where and how to adapt their combat experience for peaceful life, for example, disassembled comrades bodies. Like many years ago, the most competent psychotherapist who will help them not in a year or five, but here and now, will be Comrade Alcohol, or maybe Mr. Cannabis, or maybe they will lead the rehabilitation program together. They will have a large company of men who did not join Armed Forces for the same reason. To a large extent, they will become the parents of our next generation, along with women who, left without husbands, will be engaged in traditionally male work, often supporting the family alone. They will become better men than most men, so they will treat them with contempt. They will psychologically "castrate" their little boys at the start, and they will teach their girls to follow their example. Their personification will be the “Father-Motherland” monument, an iron transgender with a sword and a shield, on which the Ukrainian trident has already been installed, and something like "I am a horse, I am a bull, I am a woman and a man!" as their motto. They will live their entire lives in anticipation of catastrophe: with cellars and basements full of tinned cans and cryptocurrency stuffed in digital glass jars for their funeral.
I guess I know where and how this train goes - I don't want to go there. At this intermediate station I may thank my ancestors, friends and enemies, leave my empty suitcases, quietly exit and sit on the different train. On the train going home. But I really want to do it with you!
I guess I know where and how this train goes - I don't want to go there. At this intermediate station I may thank my ancestors, friends and enemies, leave my empty suitcases, quietly exit and sit on the different train. On the train going home. But I really want to do it with you!