Where beauty is created: in Bella Pokrova's studio

CAN YOU TELL US HOW YOU STARTED GETTING INTO ART?

At one point, I thought I didn’t have enough “talent” to pursue it, so I wanted to study art history and follow an academic path. I got accepted but couldn’t continue my studies, and after some time, I ended up at the British School of Art and Design.

I always say that people choose art only because they can’t do anything else, because they can’t not create.

WHAT IS YOUR TYPICAL WORKDAY LIKE?

I try to be here in the studio every day unless I’m teaching at the university. I’ve even moved my daily routine here: I read, work, and relax in the studio. I often work on multiple projects at once — something happens at one end of the table, and something else at the other. That’s what my routine consists of.

USUALLY, WHEN WE VISIT AN ARTIST’S STUDIO, WE ASK IF HAVING A STUDIO HELPS THEM MAINTAIN A WORK-LIFE BALANCE. IT SEEMS LIKE YOUR ENTIRE LIFE HAS MOVED INTO THE STUDIO, AND THE BOUNDARIES HAVE BLURRED.

I used to have my studio at home — there was a kiln on the balcony for a long time. Everything happened at home, and it was terrible. When you work and rest in the same place, you don’t understand when the day begins and when it ends. Now, I can leave the studio, so there’s some degree of separation.

The studio is like a garden — there’s always something to do here. But I wouldn’t say I come here every day and create art — sometimes I don’t even touch the clay all day. Maybe that’s what discipline is — coming here regardless of what’s happening.

YOU STUDIED IN THE UNDERGRADUATE PROGRAM AT THE UNIVERSITY OF HERTFORDSHIRE. WHAT WAS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING YOU GAINED FROM YOUR EDUCATION?

After ninth grade, I left to finish school in England, where I also enrolled in an art history program, but due to certain circumstances, I couldn’t complete it. When I returned, the British School of Art and Design was my only option. It turned out to be the perfect opportunity for my background — I enrolled in the illustration program but transferred to fine art after three days.

YOU MUST HAVE SPOKEN WITH ARTISTS WHO RECEIVED THEIR EDUCATION IN DIFFERENT SYSTEMS. DID YOU DISCUSS THE LEARNING PROCESS? DID ANYTHING UNEXPECTED COME UP?

Yes, the systems are completely different. It’s not about craftsmanship — we were taught to answer questions, write texts, and organize exhibitions. I discussed education with other fine art graduates, and we agreed that you need to have a clear understanding of yourself and your goals to succeed in this program. Many people struggle with this type of education because, during the process, it can be unclear what’s happening and what the instructors expect from you. At some point, many want to drop out, and I did too, but by the end of the last year, I finally understood what they were trying to teach us all along.

I got the impression that in the Russian system, teachers tell students what to do without leaving any choice: there’s a right way and a wrong way. If you want a good result, you follow the right path. At the British School, they asked us questions that provoked movement and action.

YOU TEACH NOW, DON’T YOU?

Yes, I teach at the British School of Art and Design and the Moscow School of Contemporary Art.

WHAT COURSES ARE YOU TEACHING NOW?

Different courses, all related to ceramics and sculpture in some way. The academic year is divided into rotation blocks, giving students the opportunity to try different methods of artistic expression. The course always starts with an introductory lecture that sets the context and direction for research, and then we move on to practice. It’s important to me that students have a theoretical foundation and want to understand the materials they’re working with.

WHAT ROLE DOES TEACHING PLAY IN YOUR LIFE?

A big one now. It seems like an important aspect that I can’t imagine myself without. There’s always an exchange with my students. I don’t limit them; instead, I try to guide them.

HOW DID YOU START WORKING WITH CERAMICS?

During the first two years of my studies, I was constantly trying something new, often encountering things that didn’t work out. I felt like nothing was right. That time was a search for my own language, tools, and form.

I found that form in ceramics, in porcelain. My graduation project was made of porcelain, and for the past five years, the material hasn’t let me go. I don’t know when it will.

YOU OFTEN WORK WITH THE SAME IMAGERY — GRIDS, CAGES, OR COCOONS. WHY IS THIS IMAGERY SO IMPORTANT TO YOU?

I have this idea about creative people who often find that it’s not enough just to want to make something or give something — they feel an overwhelming need to take something beyond their personal space, an irresistible desire to express something.

For me, cocoons, cages, and grids have become images of soft limitations. A cocoon or a cage is a space within a space, both limiting and protecting at the same time.

IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE AN IMAGINATIVE WORLD THAT YOU DON’T LIKE TO DIVIDE INTO THEMES, LETTING IT LIVE ITS OWN LIFE.

I have my own imaginative world and a certain set of themes, but I wouldn’t say it lives its own life. It’s a planned, conscious world where every detail matters. Right now, I’m trying to control the process a little less, allowing myself to sometimes create first and think later. But one way or another, whatever doesn’t work or doesn’t fit into the system will be filtered out. Only recently did I start to realize how connected everything I’ve done is.

When I create something, I don’t try to explain it, because that immediately makes the work less alive for me.

At the same time, I’m very interested in the mythology of creating works. I’ve only recently been alone in the studio; before that, there weren’t any of my works here. The hanging and gathering of my works began just about six months ago.

YOU WORK WITH FAIRLY ABSTRACT THEMES BUT SEEK TO EMBODY THEM IN MATERIAL FORMS. IT’S INTERESTING THAT THE MATERIAL YOU USE — PORCELAIN — IS VERY CONCRETE AND TANGIBLE. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS PARADOX?

I think porcelain has an intangible aspect. It immediately brings to mind street artists — they know their work will disappear. I feel that fragility and use it in my work: I believe that it’s the fragility and whiteness that make porcelain such an abstract material.

On the other hand, after firing, it turns into stone, and I want to build with it, although it’s a rather strange choice of material for construction. It brings to mind images of crystal castles, things not meant for living. For example, porcelain cups and sets that are always kept behind glass — no one touches them except on special occasions. Porcelain is a material that isn’t integrated into daily life; it has no real function.

YOU ALWAYS WORK WITH THE COLOR WHITE AND HAVE EMPHASIZED SEVERAL TIMES THAT THIS CHOICE IS NOT ACCIDENTAL. CAN YOU EXPLAIN WHAT DRIVES THIS FOCUS AND WHAT IT MEANS TO YOU?

During the exhibition “Cup of Harmonies. Toward Rozanova” at GES-2, I led a mosaic workshop where I planned to create a work together with the participants. They were supposed to work with smalt (colored opaque glass), and I was going to fill the gaps with porcelain mosaic. This would have been my first attempt at using color. It seemed like the right time — I had just started exploring mosaics, particularly the Soviet tradition where nothing happened without color. When those boards came back to me, I scraped off everything that had been done. Most likely, everything will be white this time too.

In the color white, there’s both absence and presence — duality that’s very important to me. I like that my works can get lost in space, which usually happens in a white cube. Sometimes they completely blend with the walls — they’re very hard to photograph as they merge with the white background. This is the limitation I mentioned before, something that exists and doesn’t exist simultaneously.

THE VIEWER HAS TO LOOK CLOSELY: IF YOU WANT TO SEE SOMETHING, YOU REALLY NEED TO FOCUS.

Yes, the works aren’t noticeable until the light hits them. They interact best with sunlight, but in a gallery setting, that’s not always possible.

SPEAKING OF THE GES-2 EXHIBITION, CAN YOU SHARE HOW YOU WERE INVITED TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS PROJECT AND WHAT YOUR IMPRESSIONS WERE?

I was invited by Andrey Parshikov, who was the curator of the fifth season of Open Studios, where we met. I’m glad I was part of that season because everything Andrey taught us was close to my heart and important to me — it was truly a priceless experience. At that time, my cocoon form was already in process — I had begun using a mesh structure.

At some point, every artist collaborates with a large institution. For me, it happened fairly early, and at first, it seemed like I wasn’t ready for that level of attention and responsibility. However, despite all the challenges, the exhibition was an important step for me, one I would definitely repeat.

CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT YOUR WORK "CRADLES"? IT LOOKS QUITE EXPERIMENTAL — YOU REALIZED SUCH AN UNUSUAL FORM THROUGH CERAMICS.

The most challenging part was creating the cavities inside the cocoon because porcelain becomes soft at high temperatures. For a while, I was focused on solving this technical problem.

DO OTHER ARTISTS INSPIRE YOU?

During my studies, I wrote a paper on Louise Bourgeois, and her influence is obvious since her creative method resonates with me. But I would prefer not to know anything about her personal life — let her thoughts remain encoded for me. When I read about her father and mother, I feel like knowing her biography dictates a certain interpretation of her works, leaving no room for other readings. I think it’s important to leave some space between the artist and their work.

YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT DROVE HER TO CREATE?

Of course, sometimes I feel the urge to learn how another artist works, what recipe they use. But this closes off the possibility of interpretation. I wouldn’t want to talk too much about myself — what I read, what inspires me. I want to remain a bit of a witch.

YOU RECENTLY STARTED COLLABORATING WITH THE GATHERING GALLERY, AND A SIGNIFICANT PORTION OF YOUR WORKS HAS ALREADY BEEN SOLD. IS IT IMPORTANT FOR YOU TO KNOW WHO BUYS THEM?

Before working with The Gathering, I hadn’t sold anything. If I create something and I’m happy with the result, the work lives on, but if it doesn’t meet my personal standards, it’s very likely to shatter into thousands of pieces. At one point, I had very few works — only a handful met the standards. I preferred exchanging works with other artists whose art I value.

WHO DID YOU EXCHANGE WORKS WITH?

For example, with the artist Katya Gerasimenko. I don’t remember what I gave her, but she gave me something very beautiful. Nastya Prakhova gave me her plaster sculptures. That’s how I gathered a small collection of contemporary art that now lives in my home. I easily give and exchange art, but it’s hard for me to turn it into a commodity.

HOW DID YOU EVENTUALLY COME TO TERMS WITH THE CONCEPT OF SELLING ART?

It’s part of growth and has to happen. I understand that everything is a commodity in one way or another — I understand this and try to accept it.

CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT YOUR NEW WORK?

I want to build a pigeon loft in Moscow. Remember how there used to be unauthorized structures made of scrap metal in many courtyards? And white pigeons would circle above the high-rise buildings. I wanted to recreate such a structure, and my friend, architect Vova Izakson, and I created a project. The plan is for the pigeon loft to be completely covered in mosaic, but there’s currently no budget or opportunity to implement it. Someday, I’m sure it will happen.

DO YOU HAVE AN IDEA OF AN IDEAL EXHIBITION? WHAT WOULD IT LOOK LIKE?

I really want to go beyond the white cube and create a project outside the walls. It would be great to find an unexpected place in some residential area or forest, although I understand that such a project would already be public art, meaning it would live its own life.