Svetlana Valueva
Born in Moscow on October 24, 1966.
From 1978 to 1985 – studied at the Tomsky Moscow Secondary Art School affiliated with the Surikov Institute.
From 1987 to 1993 – studied at the Surikov Moscow State Academic Art Institute.
1991 – Internship in Germany at the Stuttgart Academy of Fine Arts, in Professor Schafrat's class.
Works in collections
Works are part of private collections in Belgium, Germany, Japan, the USA, England, and France.
Exhibitions and auctions
1993 - Solo exhibition. Central House of Artists, Moscow;
1994-1995 - Three solo exhibitions. Central House of Artists, Moscow;
1995 - Exhibitions in Japan and Germany;
1996 - Created a collection for the State Academic Bolshoi Theatre of Russia for the theater's permanent exhibition, Moscow;
1997 - Solo exhibition. Central House of Artists, Moscow;
1997 - Moscow International Art Fair “ARTMANEZH 97”. Central Exhibition Hall “Manezh”, Moscow;
1998 - Exhibition in Japan, Kagoshima;
1998 - Exhibition at the “Albatros” gallery, Moscow.
Author about himself
I was born on October 24, probably a completely ordinary day of which there are no memories left, except maybe an unpleasant cold and endless drizzling rain. Just as ordinary days follow after a carnival, with their fatigue, sadness, and pain, after long, intoxicatingly hot summer days comes a kind of gentle calm, a kind of nostalgia for what has passed. This time is filled with poetry; that’s why my 'autumn' paintings are not accidental. They are born as a reflection of my feelings, they come into this world in autumn, as did I. I can't even remember when my passion for 'Art Nouveau'—the style in art that appeared at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries—began, but I think I was destined for this love from birth. Everything that lived and breathed in this elegant, sophisticated, truly aristocratic style was permeated by a certain aching melancholy, an aesthetic of dying, a reminder of the fragility and impermanence of everything on this Earth, be it summer, youth, feeling... How similar this all is to my autumnal experiences, how close 'decadence' became to me, and perhaps it is not at all accidental that its echoes appear in my paintings, also born at the turn of the centuries...
The academic school and institute in which I studied for fourteen years gave me the foundation of painting and drawing, but the path from which one truly becomes an artist remains unknown to anyone. Longing for sublime and beautiful times constantly made me look back to the past, to the era of the 'Silver Age' in Russia, called 'Art Nouveau' in the West, 'Jugendstil', 'Liberty'. It was there that the characters of my paintings were meant to live. My heroes are women, some bred from my imagination, others real existing people. Every new face is unique and unrepeatable—a whole world that arises in my mind and then is transferred onto canvas. Very often, in my paintings they live in a fantasy mystical world surrounded by strange forms, signs, and objects, but for them this world is quite real, and they accept it seriously. My first collection was called 'Mirror of Modernity'. Twelve paintings about love, about life, about beauty. The models for my heroines were three of my friends—an actress, a fashion designer, and a photo artist. I sewed costumes for the work with models, did many preliminary drawings, and after six months my ladies appeared before the audience, but already so unlike their real selves; they lost their earthly worries and modern businesslike ways, or perhaps I peered into their spiritual worlds and they told me their stories. Then came a series of paintings dedicated to spring and the mysteries of being; its bright, radiant colors delighted the eye; it was a light, joyful time, which passed quickly and irrevocably, leaving behind rainbow clusters of paintings...
Why do I paint women? Because I find it interesting, I am fascinated by beauty, its transformations, its variety, its metamorphoses. Sometimes it is the iridescence of skin, layered over the helpless pallor of a woman's hand, the soft matte sheen of flesh shining through yellow cadmium as a light mist over a naked body. Sometimes it is the ultramarine of the night sky and the white of the stars, or the emerald of river grass on a misty morning in a Japanese garden... droplets of water on sedge—I've seen this so many times. The brush with a most delicate stroke touches the canvas, creating illusory moisture; no, the brush does not move over the surface, it carefully invades the space of another world, crosses a boundary that exists for everyone else. Beyond this subtle border, like a mirror, there is space and life—I tell about it every day, about its ordinary days and holidays, and about its women inhabitants.
Works 16
