Halfway through the interview in the Paulus pub, she holds up her telephone and shows photographs of a pitch-black street in Kyiv, where she visited friends three weeks ago. The power was out. Not one person to be seen in the street. Deserted, while this used to be a lively place in the city, she says. “Just like here,” and she points out the window to the Grote Gracht, where a group of FASoS students, gesturing and laughing, leave the faculty building.
Maria Vtorushina (29) has worked as a researcher in the same building since the end of September, she has a guest appointment until April. Vtorushina grew up in Kyiv, in the centre. Just before the war broke out, she found an apartment in Bratislava, in Slovakia, for her mother and grandparents, where they still live. “My mother now wants to return to Kyiv at all cost. It is their choice.”
Some of Vtorushina’s friends have not survived, most of them men who voluntarily went to the front. “In the first month, I lost five friends.” Others moved through the country, going from one city to another, to work and to avoid the constant missile attacks. There are also those who stayed in Kyiv and have done everything to help keep daily life in the city going.
Vacancy
Mid-March, after Russia invaded Ukraine, Vtorushina took refuge abroad, in a small town on the border in Slovakia. “I first wanted to travel on to Berlin or Amsterdam, but I couldn’t handle living in a large city at that time. I lived in a cocoon, felt nothing. Past, present and future, my whole life was in ruins. Living in a super relaxed city like Amsterdam, I would be constantly asking myself why people could just continue living normally without a care in the world while my country was being bombed.”
Via non-profit organisation Artists at risk, she ended up in Tilburg, where she lived and worked in De Pont Museum for a couple of months. That is when she discovered the vacancy at FASoS. She applied for the job and was accepted.
Sodomy
Within the department of liberal arts, Vtorushina is doing research into Ukrainian art, that the Soviet Union appropriated. Moscow considered Gogol and Malevich as Russian artists but they were Ukrainian, she says. “Art that was not in keeping with Soviet ideology, was suppressed. This happened on a large scale from 1937. Many Ukrainian writers, poets and artists were tortured and executed under Stalin.”
For LHBTIQ+ artists, there was definitely no place and Vtorushina is zooming in on them. A famous case was that of film director Sergei Paradjanov, who made a breakthrough in 1964 with Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. “He was imprisoned on the charge of sodomy and all his films were banned. This, despite sharp protests by many foreign, mainly French intellectuals, such as Louis Aragon.” Paradjanov was only released in 1977, but remained a persona non grata.
Vtorushina is focusing in particular on the female LHBTIQ+ artists. “They have remained completely under the radar. I hope I am able to find enough information to portray five of them.”
No plans
About her visit to Kyiv, a couple of weeks ago: that was an “emotionally intense experience,” she says. “People are bucking each other up, are remarkably tolerant towards each other, and they form small, close-knit communities in order to provide water, electricity and Internet. I felt part of something very meaningful, I felt important and I noticed… that dispels the fear”
What the future holds? She burst out laughing. What future, she asks. “I may live abroad, but emotionally I am still part of Ukrainian life. And that means that you can’t make any plans, that you live day by day. My family and friends in Ukraine are still alive today, but they could be dead tomorrow.”