The following text is the third in a line of entries into Oksana Yushko's artist diary, a format we introduced to share more insights of her and Arthur Bondar's stay hosted by ARS BALTICA and the Nordkolleg Rendsburg. We hope you enjoy the read!
As I write these words, I am passing the black mountains of the Caucasus covered in white snow, which gives me both an aesthetic pleasure and a sense of a monochrome world. The stark contrast of black and white seems simple and absolute, yet it obscures the depth of what lies beneath.
I recently visited an exhibition in Vienna about weather research, climate studies and disappearing snow. The weather data collected in Europe over the past two centuries shows that it has gotten hotter faster since the Industrial Revolution. Alongside the scientific data, the exhibition shows the paintings and photographs of great old masters depicting snow in city squares and parks in the past, revealing many fabulous details and ever-changing winter landscapes.
Looking out at the misty, snowy fields now, I am reminded of how easily we are seduced by black and white narratives, by neat conclusions offered without question. The landscape outside is monochrome, but is it really? Beneath the snow is earth, roots, decay and growth. Beneath the black stone lie stories, pressures and time itself compressed into form. What seems simple is never so. I think about how ideas and knowledge can often be treated differently out of context, when they are not tangible and perceived by many only from the pages of newspapers or the television screen.
This thought brings me back to weather data - a collection of numbers, trends and warnings. Out of their scientific context and without visualisation, these data risks becoming just another story in the endless stream of headlines and warnings. But the exhibition did its best to me and stays in my mind.
As the bus moves forward, I see the snow changing - blurring and melting - and I understand that world is never static. It is dynamic, contextual and always just below the surface. To look deeper is to reveal not only the land, but the stories and those who tell them. This is the paradox of our monochrome perception: the closer we look, the more we realise how much we miss when we do not question what we see.
Winter teaches us to pause, to listen, to notice the beauty. The lights of upcoming holidays remind us that even in the coldest months, there is warmth to be shared. The winter pause is a moment to rest, to look inward, and looking forward to light and hope in the turning of the seasons.
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For her current artistic research project "Where have all the birds gone?" exploring the links between migratory birds, language, territory and conflict, Oksana Yushko is looking for different global/local stories and possible collaborations with people willing to share their experiences on these topics. Scientists, ornithologists, birdwatchers, enthusiasts, socio-linguists, historians, artists and anyone interested in telling their stories are invited to write to oksanayushko[at]gmail.com.
