«On the outside, I am calm and respectful. But inside there is a kind of madness…»

— What do you think of Vienna?

— There’s a saying that goes, «Where you’re born, that’s where you live best». But I think that living in other countries and getting to know other traditions is a chance to broaden your horizons. 

Living in Vienna means being permanently involved in history and culture. You might not do anything, but the culture will influence you. When I wrote my essay on Vienna, «Mirror of the Ancient Capital», I had these images in mind: “Vienna is sublime, and if you don’t resist, to submit to this city is to become a dome or at least a frieze, to reincarnate as a treble clef or at least a B minor”.  Austria is a place that I think comes close to the ideal. The architect of the world has left this country out, perhaps only the sea is missing. What the Austrian capital perhaps lacks is an energetic rhythm and passion. Even if some see that as another of the city’s assets.

— Have you ever lived abroad?

— As fate would have it, I lived in Prague for a long time before Vienna.  I love this city and can’t get enough of it; I always discover something new. My impressions of this place are summarised in the surrealist essay «The Bermuda Triangle of Watercolour Streets». For me, Prague’s architecture is a boundless flow, as if it were dissolving in a drizzle without beginning or end.  

— What about Vienna, the Austrians?

— Every change of residence, even a flat in a city, means a new phase of life. And when you move to another country, it’s like turning everything upside down. A move is like a quick means of self-improvement. A new country favours inner changes, personal growth and new experiences. From my observations, most Austrians are intelligent and tactful — even in the simplest jobs. Children are not yelled at either. Parents have enough patience to deal with their children’s moods and patiently explain to them how to behave. I learn from the Austrians all the time.

— Why Vienna?

— It is human nature to love one’s homeland, and I am no exception. I never made plans to leave Minsk, my hometown. Although once, when I was reading books about travelling, I dreamed of new countries, which I guess everyone dreams of when they are young. And at some point in my life, like in the movies, “something went wrong”…. Or was it the other way around? — It went exactly according to plan. 

How can I understand the logic of events? Why am I here? When I was 16, I was passing through Vienna. The spire of the Gothic cathedral, illuminated by the moon and the stars, gave me such a feeling at the time, as if I had seen a UFO. There is something surreal about the gothic vision of youth becoming reality and part of everyday life.

— What did you do in Minsk?

— I studied international law in Minsk and graduated from the law faculty.

— Are you also active in this field in Vienna? 

— Not at all. I have always loved to draw. When I came to Vienna, my path led me from jurisprudence to art history. I studied art history at the University of Vienna — the place where art is everywhere and present at every turn.  

— Was it difficult to learn a foreign language?

— Maybe it wasn’t easy, but the main thing is that it was insanely interesting. The Austrian education system is very different from the Belarusian one. The student controls the learning process himself and takes the initiative. Moreover, there is no “indulgence trade“ here. If you don’t study, no one will give you a grade “for beautiful eyes”. The University of Vienna is also a school of self-organisation, discipline, willpower. I admired the teachers, I appreciate the lecture material and sometimes come back to it.

— Do you travel a lot?

— Austria is the perfect starting point for travelling through Europe, to countries that preserve the heritage of the Roman Empire. It’s amazing: a few hours by car or a night on the train, and you’re strolling through Venice, riding the vaporetto among the luxuries, where “one beautiful sight makes another even more beautiful”, I quote Joseph Brodsky’s «Quay of the Incurables». Bavaria, Bohemia —you could say around the corner. And Austria itself is a book you can read endlessly: breathtaking nature, rich culture.

— I know you describe your travel experiences. 

— The feelings that overwhelm me are recorded in travel notes. I combine my own observations with historical and cultural information. Some of my stories are overloaded with images — especially in the essays about Vienna and Prague. But what can I do when these places are complex, multi-layered and even whimsical — it is even inappropriate to approach them with a simple vocabulary.

— What kind of people do you like to communicate with the most?

— Sometimes I find myself living in fantasies and figments of my imagination and distracting myself from real news and events. I like people who are not quite adults yet, who can joke and fool around. And it’s great when a person has something to do with creativity — professionally or through a hobby. Or at least they love art. These are completely different personalities who have a different mental organisation. Although I have great respect for people who really do something, who start foundations, who are workaholics. Everyone needs “bread and games” in one way or another. Although bread and entertainment can sometimes be combined. That’s my attitude to food — I don’t just want to make it tasty, I want to serve it beautifully.  

— You said you always liked to paint. And now in Vienna?

— “Painting is a need of the body”, my art teacher used to say. Probably the same as musicality or dance. I attended a music school, but unlike painting, playing the piano was not a physical need. Sometimes I open the piano, but as soon as I pick up a pencil and a brush, everything around me ceases to exist. You become absorbed in one thing, your concentration when painting is enormous. It’s important to sit down and start, not wait patiently for the muse. This lady comes whilst one is working. 

Now I want to paint something quickly. Although once I could work on a painting for months. How many detailed and masterly landscapes there are, which unfortunately rarely touch the modern viewer. In museums they often hang in several rows, like in the Belvedere in Vienna on the upper floors. Most of the time, you can’t see them up close. The viewer merely gazes at the painting on which the artist has worked for months, perhaps even years.

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it was as if a time shift had taken place, and the modernist masters responded to it. They went through different stages of painting, from careful detail work to large brushstrokes. Consider, for example, the works of Gustav Klimt or Pablo Picasso from the early and late phases. Time-consuming, realistic, meticulously painted pictures were replaced by fast, imaginative and almost etude-like works.

It was as if the hands of the clock were moving faster. The artists who were aware of this were probably in a hurry to express their talent. And then photography came along, so that it was no longer necessary to reproduce reality accurately in colours. There was a tendency for the artist to go beyond the meticulous craftsman. Some people like that, others don’t. If Malevich marked the beginning of a new epoch with the black square in 1915, then I think this symbol has already become old. What we need is a new symbol — speed. My imagination draws a white spiral leading to black infinity. The general tendency — and I don’t just mean painting — is that working on a “project“ for a long time is no longer for modern people. The world continues to accelerate. In about five to ten years, we may be in for something amazing and, today, still incomprehensible.

— What do you paint? Copies of great paintings?

— In the past, it was part of the compulsory programme of art lessons to copy the high works, especially of the Renaissance. Nowadays this method still exists, but there has also been a big change. The most important thing about a painting is not even the craftsmanship, but the energy that comes from the canvas. 

I could never copy, I find it boring. You don’t get inspiration and an inner lift when you paint that way. That is, you don’t get the emotions for which there is creativity in reality. And if you repeat something, you have to do it at least as well as the original. Or you shouldn’t do it in order not to disappoint yourself and not to disappoint others. I feel the same way about musical remixes — there is very rarely anything worth doing. I was once in the Albrecht Dürer Museum in Nuremberg. One room there is dedicated to copies of Dürer’s self-portrait. If you don’t see the original, these works have a right to exist. But in comparison to the master’s self-portrait…. I simply don’t want to offend anyone…

I was extremely impressed by Wan Gogh’s works in the museum dedicated to him in Amsterdam. There was something very powerful about the originals…. And the paintings themselves are so much stronger than the photographs. I write a film blog, and while I was reviewing a film about Van Gogh «On the Threshold of Eternity» (which, by the way, was also my coursework in film studies), I remembered an episode from my life: I happened to paint a copy of a Van Gogh sunflower on the white wall of ahouse. Despite the simplicity of the painting, it turned out to be a very difficult task. Not technically, but emotionally. I was in a bad mood, waking up in the night and desperate to finish my work, which had become a real pain, soon. It seems that Van Gogh’s rebellious spirit has in a way passed on to me. For this reason, too, one has to be careful when copying.

Icon painting is another matter. In this fast-paced, escapist world, I have my personal corner of peace. I am beginning to contradict myself. Here I have written about speed, and now about slow motion. I claimed I couldn’t copy — and I do. Icon painting is a quiet work, akin to meditation. You know what you want the end result to look like, so you don’t have to worry about composition, colour and so on. And copying a sacred image is touching the light that the icon brings. Of course, one has to know about the technique of the process and much more. But when you learn the secrets of icon painting, the work becomes a real pleasure.

— Viktoria, you amaze me with your versatility!

— There are so many interesting things and so many possibilities that sometimes I don’t know what to do.  I have to scatter: I want to paint watercolours, icons and oil paintings, write stories and travel … (I keep quiet about everyday life and family commitments). 

I am a big fan of cinema. I started making small films myself — mainly about Austria. I would even risk becoming a film director…. Do you think I’m joking?  Maybe that’s the effect Vienna has on me. I am a bit like it. On the outside, I’m calm and respectful. But inside there is a kind of madness…. 

Interviewed by Irina Muchkina

February 2022