Milana Braslavsky
June 2, 2009
Selection of photographs from portfolio.
I work with domestic settings and distorted figurations.
I moved to the United States from the Soviet Union during my formative years, and I express the feelings of alienation and detachment and the wish to assimilate into a strange society that I experienced, through the tension and discomfort conveyed in the artwork.
You can see more of my work at braslavsky.blogspot.com.
Hi Milana,
I’m interested in how your images center on patterned domestic objects. How did ornate rugs come to figure in your exploration of assimilation? Although the decorative objects are very extravagant and often paired with female bodies the images also have images of men in them as well. Is this aesthetic informed by decorative practices in the Soviet Union?
Some of the images remind me of the rococo style home of my Cuban grandmother who left the island soon after Fidel Castro came to power in the early 1960s. Many Cuban immigrants decorated their homes in the U.S. with chandeliers, patterned wallpaper, and plush furniture, even if they were working class.
Thanks for sharing your work.
Jillian
Jillian,
That’s exactly the situation with my relatives (and most immigrants I know from the former USSR). There is a strive to portray oneself as well-off, particularly because any luxury goods were such a limited commodity (and were literally not available, so any piece resembling stature was highly valued). This wish for opulence transferred to their new homes, and was greatly facilitated by the availability of material in the United States, which means heaps of Persian rugs, gold ornate clocks, and yes, rococo-style bed linens.
It is a comfort for my family, and a tradition to have extravagant furniture and environments. The Russian culture was a Francophilic one, and I’m convinced our house was decorated to be a miniature Versailles palace.
For me, the patterns and imitation mahogany serve as both formal elements in the work and as contextual building blocks for the environments which the figures inhabit. I embrace the kitsch factor of the decor, and find myself nostalgic for it when I’m away (not even ironically).
Recently I have left the old world glamour for more sparse settings, but I’m sure there will be a portrait series in the future with laquered furniture as the subjects.
Thanks for the comment! Here I was worried no one cared.
Milana
Dear Milana,
I’d like to know more about the element of distortion in your work. Could you talk about how you stage the photographs? Are they digital manipulations? What is the relationship of scale to the effect you are seeking? In some ways, the freakish nature of the poses and the skewed proportions remind me of photographs by Diane Arbus.
Milana-
I am wondering if you have read Svetlana Boym’s “The Future of Nostalgia”? It is a really intriguing book that, in part, examines some of the feelings of immigrant detachment and desire you reference in talking about your work. Her analyses cover Vladimir Nabakov and artist Ilya Kabakov, as well as her own experiences.
I can see a bit of Arbus too in the distortion of the body, though I don’t think the comparison extends to the blatant antagonism of her work. There is also a relation to fashion photography (which, I suppose, is where Arbus started…). Is that something you consciously think about?
Nice images,
Kate
Cathy,
The distortion is something that I’m naturally drawn to. It’s possible that it has a basis in the difficult political times of my childhood, or in the dark folk tales and stories I grew up reading. It seems that it’s more commonplace in Northern European art, and less so here in the States. I was always attracted toward the grotesque and strange (not in a carnival freakshow way, in a much quieter, subtler way). The photos are not digital manipulations. In fact, they’re barely touched digitally at all. Maybe for a bit of contrast or exposure, much like one would do as basic darkroom changes. I am influenced by Arbus and many other photographers, but also by painting (Mannerism and northern European renaissance in particular), film (Charlie Kaufman, Todd Solondz) and literature. And you’re right, I do enjoy playing with and manipulating scale in my work. It adds to the strangeness of the image, or allows for a tiny surprise or shift in composition.
Kate,
I have not read Svetlana Boym, but I will now. I am often excited by or intrigued with fashion photography (the thema-based series, not really any catalog work or worse, bikini shoots). I was the lucky recipient of hand-me-down Vogues as a teenager, and pored over their spreads. Some of those are incredible, and some are incredibly creepy. It’s true that for the most part my photos are, for lack of a better term, clean (as in, there’s no pile of laundry on the floor, no mess), which is similar to the settings of fashion photography. This is something that I haven’t thought about, so thank you… for making my life difficult. Just kidding! It’s always good to hear new perspectives.
Milana
Thanks for your notes, Milana.
Now, I’m curious about that book, myself!
Another that I’ve read and reread is “On Longing,” by Susan Stewart. She writes brilliantly of the imaginary body and the grotesque.
Take a look and let me know what you think.
Best,
Cathy