Vitaliy Matukhno. Looping Cycles or Going in Circles
13.02 — 9.03.2025
Author's text
I'll start with a brief clarification for myself. Among the various labels (such as 'curator' or 'artist') that describe my practice, the most fitting one is 'enthusiast'.
Lysychansk, in Luhansk Oblast, is my hometown. I was born there and lived there until I was 23. My identity, worldview, and way of thinking are shaped by the clay from the banks of the Siverskyi Donets River and the black coal from the depths of Lysycha Balka. Since childhood, I have absorbed the steppe noises and winds, the industrial hum emanating from the horizon, and the gray solitude of abandoned factories. I have always understood how much Lysychansk means to me. To this day, my entire practice and enthusiasm remain devoted to it.
I stumbled into photography unintentionally. My main motivation was simply to document my observations of the city and the region. It may sound cliché, but as an ordinary resident, I just wanted to capture my own vision of my hometown. I still can’t say for sure whether I chose analog photography or whether the city chose it for me. On one hand, I wanted to continue a family tradition—my father took countless photos in his youth. At home, we still have stacks of albums filled with his photographs, along with his Zenit ET camera, the one I used to take most of my own pictures. On the other hand, it was as if the city itself guided me toward this camera—when I found an undeveloped roll of film in an abandoned apartment building on Zelenyi Hai Street, it felt like a sign. Exploring Lysychansk through the lens of a Soviet camera and film seemed fitting, as the echoes of Soviet occupation still lingered in the air. A kind of photographic occultism compelled me to search for ghosts in places I had long known. Now, for occupied Lysychansk, I, myself, am the ghost.
The feeling of loss is monolithic, inevitable, and requires no explanation.
A full-scale war, forced displacement, and the subsequent occupation of Lysychansk—all of it merged into a clear, tangible boundary that defines my visual research and explorations. Familiar landscapes have been replaced by a series of fleeting images, shifting too quickly to become familiar. My sense of belonging, uprooted, is displaced by a state that feels like the only thing I truly know—perpetual transit.
A landscape framed by the window of a Ukrzaliznytsia train car. The people around me share a single goal—to get from point A to point B. Among the passengers, there is only waiting, a silent bond that unites them all. In transit, everyone is equal, and the sense of the road serves as a constant reminder that the tracks leading home remain out of reach.
As time passes, the landscape etched in my memory begins to blur, like the view from a train window. The farther the journey, the harder it becomes to hold onto my connection with home; memories grow more abstract and hazy; the more difficult it is to have a dialog about what is important to me.
I continue to take pictures out of inertia, even though I no longer have access to Lysychansk. The camera in my hands has become both a means of seeking familiar landscapes and a way to preserve myself.
About artist:
Vitaliy Matukhno is an artist, curator, activist, musician, and enthusiast from Lysychansk, in Luhansk Oblast. In his work, he explores the identity and cultural context of his hometown and the region. His goal is to develop, document, and represent the local and grassroots cultures of Luhansk and Donetsk. He addresses themes such as the (post)industrial landscape and the preservation of "disappearing memory." His practice incorporates text and storytelling with both analog and digital photography, as well as found materials. Matukhno is the founder and curator of the nomadic, self-organized group Galereya Neotodryosh, which previously served as an experimental exhibition space for young artists from the eastern regions. He is also the creator of the 14-8-22 project, an online archive of personal stories from residents of Luhansk and Donetsk oblasts, capturing their reflections and memories of Russia’s war against Ukraine.
Project managers: Olena Kryvoruchko, Illia Turyhin
Translation: Burshtyna Tereshchenko
The exhibition will open at 12:00 p.m. on February 13 and last until March 9, 2025, in the Mala Gallery (Lavrska St., 10).
Working hours:
Wednesday to Sunday, from 12:00 to 19:00
Free admission.
❗ We care about everyone’s safety, so in case of an air raid alert, the exhibition will be closed. At this time, you can go to the nearest shelter. The exhibition will start working after the end of an air raid alert.