After much reflection, I decided to focus my research on my childhood in Ukraine during the 1990s, as it was a significant period both for myself and for the country. My personal development unfolded in parallel with the nation’s transformation, meaning that my identity was being shaped at the same critical moment as the emerging collective identity of Ukraine. Through this connection, I aimed for my work to reflect not only my personal memories but also the broader atmosphere and spirit of that time and place.
I aimed to visually represent the flow of time and the distinctive character of that period in my life by using photographs from my family archive, featuring my younger self and other family members. These materials hold profound personal significance, as some of the images include people who are no longer alive. My intention was to find a meaningful way to work with these photographs without reducing them to simple nostalgic reflections on the past.
To achieve this, I transferred the images onto ceramic blocks cast from old wooden pieces. I felt that using wood taken from old furniture provided a fitting foundation for my idea. I combined the photographs with monoprints made from children’s clothing, allowing me to convey the emotional atmosphere of that time in a more associative and visually accessible way. Both the fragments of clothing and the photographs serve as symbols of a distant past.
I was particularly drawn to the idea of presenting the works as blocks, as this format offered flexibility in arrangement and composition. One of the most important aspects was to express the right mood through visual form. My goal was to create a surreal space reminiscent of an apartment—intimate yet non-functional—something that could exist only through fragile fragments of memory.
To reinforce this concept, I placed the ceramic blocks into improvised drawers, echoing the real spaces where photo albums and clothing might once have been stored.
Another important material I used as the foundation of my work was my childhood drawings. I wanted to present them not merely as children’s artworks, but as visual fragments that evoke a distant and fragmented past. I believed that the drawings could represent a specific time and place, while the process of printing could serve as a connection to the present.
This idea deeply resonates with my approach — my prints and laser-cut plates act as a kind of stage where forgotten memories are re-enacted. Through them, I seek to uncover what remains buried beneath the surface of time, transforming childhood spontaneity into deliberate reflection.
The etchings were designed not only to symbolise childhood memories but also to visually echo the appearance of genuine children’s drawings — imperfect yet proudly displayed on the walls. While printing, I deliberately tried to preserve the slightly messy and intuitive quality that characterised my early creative expressions. I combined soft ground and aquatint techniques, as this approach best conveyed the tactile and emotional atmosphere I aimed to evoke.
I also used colours similar to those found in the ceramic blocks. This choice helped create a sense of visual and emotional continuity between the elements, reinforcing the impression that they all belong to the same imagined “home” space.
Another element of my visual exploration of space was the use of fragments of actual old furniture. I incorporated them in two ways: as printing objects, which I hand-printed, and as physical components within the installation itself. This approach also became a way to connect time and place — my past in Kharkiv and my present in London. Just as I exist between these two spaces, my artworks also inhabit both. Simply displaying the furniture as found objects did not feel sufficient; I wanted to transform them so that they became integral to the conceptual and visual structure of the work rather than serving as mere decoration.
There are numerous possible configurations for how the overall installation can be built and arranged. It can evolve and expand into different forms and dimensions, taking the shape of tables, drawers, or abstract, non-functional constructions. Through this variability, the installation reflects the fluidity of memory — constantly shifting, reforming, and resisting fixed boundaries.
The shapes of the furniture, which are both distinctive and evocative, combined with the laser-cut images derived from my childhood drawings, effectively support the idea of creating symbolic objects that exist between categories — neither functional furniture nor children’s artwork. They occupy an ambiguous space, containing elements of both yet belonging fully to neither. These hybrid forms serve as metaphors for memory itself: fragmented, reinterpreted, and suspended between material reality and emotional recollection. Rather than functioning as practical objects, they hold value as reflections of personal history — a means of preserving and evoking the atmosphere of a specific time and place.
Another part of my practice is a short animation that incorporates various elements I used previously. In this work, I combined old photographs and etchings, adding simple animation to weave them together. Through movement, I aimed to connect the past and present, giving a sense of life to still images and extending the narrative of memory beyond physical form.
Rserch Festival Artists Book “Home”
For the Research Festival, I decided to create an artist’s book titled “Home.” It continues the themes explored in my previous artworks while also standing as an independent project.
As a starting point, I chose to combine materials from the workshop I conducted at the Ukrainian Social Centre in Richmond with my own photographs taken in Ukraine. Later, I also invited a group of Ukrainian children currently living in the UK to take part in the project.
The first step was selecting the materials I wanted to use and composing them into a visual narrative. I used prints to build collages that connected the children’s drawings with my photographs.
One of my main goals for this work was to shift the focus away from myself, unlike in my previous projects. I wanted to take the position of an observer, simply translating the children’s words without adding anything of my own.
During my experiments, I tried to combine diferent type of papper, as well as other materials, such as fabric and treads.
One of my main goals for this work was to shift the focus away from myself, unlike in my previous projects. I wanted to take the position of an observer, simply translating the children’s words without adding anything of my own.
During my experiments, I tried to combine diferent type of papper, as well as other materials, such as fabric and treads.
Concluding Reflections
After completing all the visual work and research, I cannot say that I have arrived at a single, definitive conclusion to the main question — how much the environment, time, and place of one’s early years affect the future and the formation of personality. Throughout the project, I tried to explore this question from as many perspectives as possible. I conducted interviews with different groups of Ukrainians in each stage of my research. In the first group, I spoke with people who emigrated from Ukraine at various times before the full-scale war; in the second, with individuals who were adults in my hometown during the 1990s; and in the third, with prominent local artist who continue to live and work in Kharkiv today. I tried to speak with people with different experiences and from different generations to understand the theme from multiple perspectives.
After some reflection, I decided to focus exclusively on Ukrainians, as I wanted my research to remain closely connected to my own personal and cultural experience. The final stage of my social research involved workshops and communication with children. After analysing their thoughts, drawings, and perceptions — together with my own memories and artworks — I came to understand that, even though historical context plays a role, it is not what matters most. Even in the darkest times, children often perceive the world as an exciting journey toward the future.
However, this does not mean that growing up in extreme circumstances is not traumatic — the realization of its impact simply comes years later, along with an understanding of the fundamental beliefs that were formed within a distorted reality. As I see it now, perhaps children adapt more easily to difficult environments than adults do; yet, at the same time, it may be much harder for them to later unlearn or overcome the wrong or unstable “norms” that shaped their earliest experiences.
In the end, my project became not only a study of memory but also a reflection on human resilience. Even within instability and loss, there remains a deep instinct to adapt, to rebuild, and to search for meaning. Through this journey, I realized that the concept of home is not defined by a fixed place or time — it is made of people, memories, emotions, and tiny fragments of everyday life.
About the author
Olesia Kryvolapova is a printmaking artist and illustrator from Ukraine, currently living in the UK. In her work, she uses a variety of traditional and experimental techniques. The themes she explores often include nostalgia, reflections on childhood and youth, and various social issues. Another recurring motif is the emotional state and inner thoughts of individuals. In 2025graduated from MA Fine Art: Printmaking at Camberwell.