“I'm not a photographer in the broad and banal sense of the word; I'm more of a shaman with a camera.”

Q: Hedyah

A: Roman

December 2025

A: I come from a poor mining family. In the Donetsk region, after the collapse of the USSR, there was almost nothing in the stores except margarine and bread. The bookstore still had Soviet books, but there was nothing about art except one book about art, an album of seascapes by Aivazovsky. I copied seascapes. My teacher taught me to make my own brushes and paints because it was impossible to buy them anywhere. We did everything ourselves, including our own canvases. My first teacher inspired me to be an artist; he believed in my talent.

A: Yes, before the war, I had a team of 12 people, three studios, and one 350-square-meter hub where I could afford to open my doors free of charge to teach young artists contemporary art, photography, painting, and digital art. We were the most advanced hub in Kharkiv, and many knew us. I spent a lot of time and effort developing contemporary art in Kharkiv, but now that page has been turned, and I've started a new life in Europe.

It's very difficult for me to start over. But now I have the opportunity to take a break from active social activity. I think a lot and am writing a book. I found work in Belgium, and now I'm the curator of the art residency "Bubble House." In Ukraine, I was a teacher for many, but in Europe, I found my own teacher, and here I am apprenticing with a wonderful stained glass master. I really value this new experience.

A: Yes, once in 2012, Banks bought one of my compositions to use in his "Anti Disney Land" exhibition. In 2012, I was very poor, and thanks to this wonderful opportunity, I was able to survive the winter. I am very grateful to him.

If we talk about money, now during the war there is an opportunity to serve propaganda and earn a lot of money, but I don’t want to serve the propaganda of war, and therefore now I am simply on the brink of survival.

A: In 2010, in a mining town, I taught children how to draw on walls. The theme of our work was "Dreams." While talking to the children, I learned that 90% of them dreamed of leaving the Donetsk region and living anywhere but in this depressing, dirty, and industrialized region. During this period, I came up with the idea for a monumental composition, "Escape Plan from the Donetsk Region." An escape plan implies a secret, so I encrypted my poems and came up with a special font. It's easy to translate; it's the first level of encryption difficulty. Many can read my poems, which I write in this font. Since then, I've also hidden treasure maps in my paintings. I'm very happy when people find the treasures I hide. It's a kind of game; I like this childhood game. I've been hiding treasures since childhood.

A: Photography for me is an experience with augmented reality. I try to convey my existential experiences, my predictions that are difficult to describe in words. I feel something but can't express it, so I have to use a camera to convey my sensations. I use a medium format, 6x6 cm, because this format is convenient for drawing. I draw directly on the film. It's augmented reality, created by hand. I use alcohol markers. I use different lenses; for two series of photos, I had to buy a fisheye lens; this was crucial.

Working with photographs for me is a metaphysical, almost mystical process, I won't say much about it. Believe me, I only take photos when I need to. I never work for commissions or for galleries, so in the eyes of professional photographers, I'm not a professional. Yes, I'm not a photographer in the broad and banal sense of the word; I'm more of a shaman with a camera.

A: That's a difficult question, I don't know. I take each series of my photographs as if it were my last. I don't have any plans to pick up a camera yet, but I keep film in the refrigerator just in case inspiration strikes again that I can only express with this tool. I'm also curious: will I ever pick up a camera again, and for what?

I like my camera; it's a Pentagon; I bought it new, still in oil, with its original box and passport. The camera's passport shows the production date, and it coincides with my birthday, 1981. I find this a pleasant coincidence. I have great respect for film, and I'm very glad that medium format film only has 12 exposures; you have to think very carefully about whether to press the shutter or not. It's a completely different level of responsibility than using the endless possibilities of digital technology. When working with film, I trust chance, which means I trust God.

A: Several years before the war, I began creating typographic compositions called "OPTIMISM." Sometimes I don't quite understand why I do this, but I really wanted to do it for the future, for the long term. I felt it could be useful to people. When the war began, I began creating hundreds of small "optimism" paintings. I sent hundreds of them as gifts to Ukraine to support those in need. I also hung these paintings as street art in Paris and Brussels. I haven't counted how many unique typographic compositions I've created, but I think it's a lot, definitely over 1,000. At the Council of Europe building in Strasbourg, I was asked to paint one of my typographic compositions, "OPTIMISM," right there in the building. I continue to create these paintings, but I don't have enough money for paint. If I receive paint as a gift and can afford inexpensive canvases, I happily create these paintings again to give away to random people.

There's a touch of meta-humor in this process, because I'm a huge skeptic. I don't believe in what I'm doing; I just feel like I have to. Perhaps I sometimes believe in every tenth picture, and it heals my soul. This process is like reciting mantras. So, I believe these paintings are a wonderful souvenir for those who live to see a new stage in human development. We're once again going through a time of war and world re-division. Not everyone will live to see another period of peace. But for those who are lucky, this painting on the wall will sparkle with new colors and meanings.

A: 7. This is a difficult question. I currently live in Europe and see books by classic Russian writers and poets on people's shelves. Russia's influence on Europe is enormous, spanning at least 200 years, which is why many intellectuals are displeased by the barbaric ban on Russian culture in Ukraine. Banning any culture seems very strange to people who live far from this war.

I understand what is happening in Ukraine now: the process of creating a new nation. In the process of forming a new state and a new nation, everything old must be cleared out and urgently replaced with something new. Ukraine now needs new cultural heroes. I am "made in the USSR"; I must leave the Ukrainian airwaves with dignity for a neutral space where multiculturalism is part of cultural policy. I believe I acted fairly and honorably; I simply ceded my place in the information space to new cultural heroes. I do not want to change myself and adapt to new rules and trends. Perhaps I am an overly proud person, but I want to feel creative freedom, which does not exist in Ukraine and will not exist for many years, so I went to live in Belgium.

A: Belgium, like all of Europe, is a highly bureaucratic place. It's very difficult to develop here. Europe is lagging far behind the rest of the world because it's become a bureaucratic backwater. I'm certainly grateful that Europe accepted us as refugees; I should be grateful for that. But there's no talk of creative success or projects.

I'm currently working a lot as a simple worker, and in my free time, I paint optimistic paintings and send them to Ukraine as gifts and for auctions to support volunteer movements. Some artist friends and I raised money to buy ambulances; we bought 60. But I'm tired; I can't work that much anymore. I want to write a book. Of course, I have ideas for new projects, but I need funding and support. I can't find this intellectual support in Europe yet. Well, I'm glad I have a roof over my head. My hometown in Ukraine was completely destroyed, and I have nowhere to return to. The world is big, and I want to meet good people who will be interested in my projects.

A: Monumental artist Roman Minin.