Braiding hair, unbraiding meanings. An interview with the artist Katya Kosa.

In issue 37 of our #ourstudents series we introduce you to an artist whose work opens up themes of female strength, inner support and cultural identity — Katya Kosa. In this interview she shares her thoughts on the Russian cultural code, the fear of not making art, sincerity as a value, and names the artists whose work “inspires” and “moves” her. Katya tells us where she finds the strength to create and what drives her to make art that changes the way we see.

 

 

1. Please introduce yourself. How should we describe what you do? A contemporary artist who…?

My name is Katya Kosa. I’m a contemporary artist, constantly pushing the boundaries of my own awareness and trying to rein in a mind that keeps putting new questions in front of me. Through art I hold a dialogue with the world, expressing my thoughts and feelings openly and honestly.

2. Tell us about the themes you explore in your art.

For several years now I’ve been working with female strength and the finding of inner support. I began my path as a contemporary artist during an oppressive period of inner ruin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What genuinely troubles me is the conflict between a woman’s nature and the expectations society places on her. It’s striking that in an age of accessible psychology, questions like “What can trigger self-destruction? Where can you find support within your own female nature?” have lost none of their urgency. I see plenty of examples around me of women who are alone in their inner collapses and need support. And art, as we know, can heal the soul. I can say for certain that art is one of my own points of support.

3. How, or what, pushed you toward exploring Russian identity?

 

At the beginning, piecing myself back together, I leaned on the prism of personal experience, which let me go deeper into the question of identity and at the same time reach the larger, universal question of self-identification and how a cultural code shapes both the individual and society. Looking back at my ancestors’ difficult, forced history of migration, I can say with confidence that the place where we are born is not always the place that feels like home; it doesn’t warm you the way loving maternal hands do. The call of blood is very strong and you have to learn to listen to it. Understanding your roots is the strongest support a person can have.

4. What is the “Russian cultural code” to you, what is it about? And do we have any single cultural code today?

The way I see it, a cultural code isn’t a rigid organism. We look at the present by returning to our heritage and rethinking it, and it isn’t always one particular period from the centuries of our country’s eventful history. A cultural code has its vivid landmarks, but they’re something like the sum of all the rethinkings we’ve lived through and can reach now. It’s ornament and the imagery of folk tales, the history of costume, of music, and so on. Honestly, take the chthonic — every generation has its own. For me the chthonic has nothing to do with Soviet-era tower blocks, the way it’s being framed en masse right now; it’s the figure of Baba Yaga from our Russian tales. And if you recall our country’s difficult history, our cultural code has obviously lived through the influence of other cultures more than once. Which makes this a very deep question, worth long reflection.

 

 

5. Are there stereotypes about Russian culture that irritate you?

Nothing irritates me, because everyone has the right to be as mistaken as they please.
But I have heard more than once that we’re too severe. That even the word “friend” has to be earned with us. To which I always answer, laughing: “What did you expect, a fairy tale? Before you come into my house, wipe your feet, then wash your hands, show me who you really are in moments of joy and sorrow — and then we’ll decide whether you’re fit to be a friend.” And I genuinely don’t mind whether anyone likes that approach or not. Selectiveness is a wonderful trait. Behind it lies real sincerity and a heart that knows how to love.

6. What do you think is the biggest difficulty today for artists developing ideas around Russian national identity?

Slipping into outright cliché. Staying hostage to bright, familiar images that can eclipse the abyss of meaning the artist is trying to open up.

7. How would you define your mission as an artist? And the mission of your art?

 

 

The mission of my art… that sounds so grand. Pompous, even. I just want to make things, even when there’s no strength left. In spite of everything. Which is exactly what’s happening right now.
My great fear of all fears is not being able to make art. If art has become a serious support for me, it can certainly become support for someone else. I sincerely believe that.

8. Are there artists who inspire you within your subject?

Once I’d found the cultural code as my support, I dived into this subject here and now, of course. Plenty of individual works by different artists spark my interest. I deliberately don’t limit my attention to artists working with this subject. But I can say for certain that the art of Ulyana Podkorytova and Anastasia Pribelskaya, and Liza Volgina’s incredible watercolors, move me. Recently, for instance, at the “Svoyasi” exhibition, I discovered the work of Natalia Rozhkova, Anna Filippova, Elena Kuznetsova and many others. Oh! Wait! Sasha Palm’s art always gives me goosebumps. I honestly can’t say which of the things she makes I like more or less. What happened to me with her art is total love.

9. What are your immediate plans? What strategy have you chosen for yourself after the program?

 

 

To finally realize my project as a solo show, “Braiding hair, unbraiding meanings”.
And maybe take over the world along the way — not necessarily with this particular project. We’ll see how it goes. (I’m smiling wryly as I write this.)

 

10. Was our program useful to you and, if so, how?

Absolutely yes. For far too long I really couldn’t get near realizing the project “Braiding hair, unbraiding meanings”, which came to me a year before the program in one furious rush, all in a single night. I needed a long, careful unpacking of many inner questions. The answers are found, it’s time to act. Now I’ve finally understood why the neat/beautiful/decorative always felt too tight on me. Now I clearly see the difference between the commercial artist’s path and the institutional one. Both paths are wonderful.

11. What would you advise artists who are just starting out?

Whoever is born to make art can’t live any other way. Creative people are finely sensitive and easily wounded, so let me share an observation that has become a fact for me: nobody owes you their support, not even the people closest to you. Nobody. Look for support inside yourself. Full stop. And if there is someone beside you who does support you — thank them sincerely! You’re genuinely lucky.
The best choice you can make for yourself is DON’T GIVE UP! Choose yourself and keep moving forward. I betrayed myself once, and it burned me to ash — I didn’t like it. Make your work: you’re the one who chose to show up in this world exactly like this.