Kateryna Aliinyk

The contemplation of nature and the presence of war are two of the most vivid and sensual experiences in my life, and there are endless variations of their combination. Luhansk, my home, has been occupied since 2014 and almost for all these years I've been distanced from nature that fed my body, imagination and hugely formed me. 

Now the view of the landscape from a distance contains a lot of room for imagination and a space that beckons. There is a lot of tension, especially when you can't get close to it. Here comes the idea of a stolen landscape which you cannot approach even if it’s in front of your eyes because it’s either mined or occupied.  Despite the presence of war, there is also a striking beauty and majesty in the abandoned landscapes in the east of Ukraine. Before the war they had some practical function, temporarily lost it and now live their own lives, taking on other forms. The feeling I often want to convey through my paintings is a feeling of a dense piece of landscape that hospitably unfolds before our eyes but at the same time is so thick, almost without space for us. I have always been terrified and amazed by how fully nature shows itself, and carries a level of truth that is sometimes even difficult to bear and even when there is a war, the sky does not stop being blue and the grass is green. Without a human figure, the landscape ceases to be a background and becomes the main character.