Adolf Kuvshinov is one of the first in a series of cinema-objects. Based on the real-life architect Adolf Kuvshinov, who lived in Bishkek in the 1970s, the film creates a character named Adolf Kuvshinov who undergoes absurd and surreal situations among the city’s ruined spaces and architecture.

Adolf Kuvshinov is one of the first in a series of cinema-objects. Based on the real-life architect Adolf Kuvshinov, who lived in Bishkek in the 1970s, the film creates a character named Adolf Kuvshinov who undergoes absurd and surreal situations among the city’s ruined spaces and architecture..

In this short, ironic film Ugay draws on his family’s roots in the Far East. The artist performs in Tea Ceremony himself, using music from Okinawa, Japan. Tea Ceremony is one of Ugay’s signature “cinema- objects”, in which the artist records performances on old Soviet-made 8mm and 16mm cameras and films.

The video-novel Mourning was produced by the collective “Bronepoezd” (“An armored train”), founded and run by Alexander Ugay (Almaty, Kazakhstan) and Roman Maskalev (Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan). The group was established in 2000 and has since then produced “cinema-objects” in the form of short, experiential film-parables and – performances, recorded on 16mm film using cameras manufactured in the Soviet period. The whole process of development and montage-making is carried out manually. As the result, the production quality of films is unpredictable, evoking a retro, even nostalgic, aesthetic. The group’s latest works relate to the actualisation and mobilisation of the inheritance of the Soviet Union. This inheritance often has a thin coating of a new form of Romanticism, and Mourning seeks to display this.

Mourning consists of three parts. The first part – “Universal Sorrow” – consists of a bride riding a bicycle by a dull cemetery, evoking the Romantic nostalgia of sentimental Soviet movies. This is mixed with a parody of the children’s game “War Fighting” in the film’s second part, titled “Death of a Hero”. The third part, “Love to Eternity”, completes the piece, culminating in black irony with the hanging of a character named “Genius”. The eclecticism of Mourning is finessed by, and is a consequence of, Ugay’s recording all three parts using his favorite tool, the 16mm camera, and cutting the action with brief snapshots of gloomy city landscape.

The deliberate eclecticism of Mourning is emphasised by the unpredictability of the sound. “Universal Sorrow” is accompanied with folk music per- formed by Peruvian violinists, and in “Death of a Hero” sounds of gunfire are accompanied by Slovenian throat singing. A Blues about love to extend- ing to eternity, composed by Ugay himself, sounds as a final chord in the third part, “Love to Eternity”. Yet for all its eclecticism Mourning is surprisingly simply viewing, capable of simultaneously arousing a smile, surprise, sadness and excitement. Mourning is sort of microcosm, representative of the identity of artists who grew up in the multicultural environment of the Central Asian Republics during the post-Soviet Period – the identity of a cosmopolitan generation for whom the global post-Soviet context is more important than reflecting forms of indigenousness.

Yuliya Sorokina

The video-novel Mourning was produced by the collective “Bronepoezd” (“An armored train”), founded and run by Alexander Ugay (Almaty, Kazakhstan) and Roman Maskalev (Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan). The group was established in 2000 and has since then produced “cinema-objects” in the form of short, experiential film-parables and – performances, recorded on 16mm film using cameras manufactured in the Soviet period. The whole process of development and montage-making is carried out manually. As the result, the production quality of films is unpredictable, evoking a retro, even nostalgic, aesthetic. The group’s latest works relate to the actualisation and mobilisation of the inheritance of the Soviet Union. This inheritance often has a thin coating of a new form of Romanticism, and Mourning seeks to display this.

Mourning consists of three parts. The first part – “Universal Sorrow” – consists of a bride riding a bicycle by a dull cemetery, evoking the Romantic nostalgia of sentimental Soviet movies. This is mixed with a parody of the children’s game “War Fighting” in the film’s second part, titled “Death of a Hero”. The third part, “Love to Eternity”, completes the piece, culminating in black irony with the hanging of a character named “Genius”. The eclecticism of Mourning is finessed by, and is a consequence of, Ugay’s recording all three parts using his favorite tool, the 16mm camera, and cutting the action with brief snapshots of gloomy city landscape.

The deliberate eclecticism of Mourning is emphasised by the unpredictability of the sound. “Universal Sorrow” is accompanied with folk music per- formed by Peruvian violinists, and in “Death of a Hero” sounds of gunfire are accompanied by Slovenian throat singing. A Blues about love to extend- ing to eternity, composed by Ugay himself, sounds as a final chord in the third part, “Love to Eternity”. Yet for all its eclecticism Mourning is surprisingly simply viewing, capable of simultaneously arousing a smile, surprise, sadness and excitement. Mourning is sort of microcosm, representative of the identity of artists who grew up in the multicultural environment of the Central Asian Republics during the post-Soviet Period – the identity of a cosmopolitan generation for whom the global post-Soviet context is more important than reflecting forms of indigenousness.

Yuliya Sorokina

For Ugay The Monument to the Third International by Vladimir Tatlin is a symbol of the 20th century’s utopian ideals, wars, revolutions and social upheavals that have changed the social paradigm of our time. In an artistic context, Tatlin’s Tower is a symbol of modernism - great and terrible, a time when demiurges created new worlds and utopias were manifested. Bastion is therefore a kind of reverse nostalgia for inevitable, new utopias.

For Ugay The Monument to the Third International by Vladimir Tatlin is a symbol of the 20th century’s utopian ideals, wars, revolutions and social upheavals that have changed the social paradigm of our time. In an artistic context, Tatlin’s Tower is a symbol of modernism - great and terrible, a time when demiurges created new worlds and utopias were manifested. Bastion is therefore a kind of reverse nostalgia for inevitable, new utopias.

For his video installation “Bastion” Ugay used a camera manufactured in the Soviet Union and manual processing and film editing. The video depicts a bright beach setting with images of family and leisure that blend into each other. The lethargy of the scenes, the absence of colour, and the disregard to details comprise a reflection of how we form memories. The viewer sees flashes that seem to capture a beautiful family outing, but only one audio “channel” from the day lasts - the sound of the tide. The climax of the video is the appearance of Tatlin’s Monument to the 3rd International – a historic symbol of victory from the birth of the USSR.

The physical interruption of the family outing reveals the transcendent quality of memories, and in particular, the tendency of the mind to be entrenched in certain symbols, many from cultural influences, that have personal significance.

The video is projected onto 24 transparent acrylic sheets, emphasizing the layered nature of our memories.

For his video installation “Bastion” Ugay used a camera manufactured in the Soviet Union and manual processing and film editing. The video depicts a bright beach setting with images of family and leisure that blend into each other. The lethargy of the scenes, the absence of colour, and the disregard to details comprise a reflection of how we form memories. The viewer sees flashes that seem to capture a beautiful family outing, but only one audio “channel” from the day lasts - the sound of the tide. The climax of the video is the appearance of Tatlin’s Monument to the 3rd International – a historic symbol of victory from the birth of the USSR.

The physical interruption of the family outing reveals the transcendent quality of memories, and in particular, the tendency of the mind to be entrenched in certain symbols, many from cultural influences, that have personal significance.

The video is projected onto 24 transparent acrylic sheets, emphasizing the layered nature of our memories.

This video is, in a way, an illustration of Albert Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus. Here, the “break” is one of the rare moments of a return to consciousness, amid the stream of useless and hopeless labor.

Waltz is made up of illustrations from a book on self-defense. It is a book that suggests to the reader a way to become strong and courageous over a short period of time. The drawings themselves are reminiscent of frescos or vase-paintings, retelling some ancient myth about famous exploits, or the practice of some magic dance designed to strengthen the fighting spirit. Books on self-defense were popular in the early 90s in post-Soviet countries, amid an orgy of criminality and lawlessness. People could only place their hope in themselves and miracles. This needed, in a way, a kind of moral karate.

Waltz is made up of illustrations from a book on self-defense. It is a book that suggests to the reader a way to become strong and courageous over a short period of time. The drawings themselves are reminiscent of frescos or vase-paintings, retelling some ancient myth about famous exploits, or the practice of some magic dance designed to strengthen the fighting spirit. Books on self-defense were popular in the early 90s in post-Soviet countries, amid an orgy of criminality and lawlessness. People could only place their hope in themselves and miracles. This needed, in a way, a kind of moral karate.

In 2011 Kazakhstan hosted the Winter Asian Games. In preparation, several large facilities were built (stadiums, sports complexes etc.) that after the Games look like empty symbols of power (the buildings are hardly used). The photos of the workers that make up Workers in Emptiness were made during the construction of sports facilities, but in the finished piece they have been abstracted from the landscape.

Emptiness is a state before shape and content – which might be an exact description of the mystical sacredness of power.

In 2011 Kazakhstan hosted the Winter Asian Games. In preparation, several large facilities were built (stadiums, sports complexes etc.) that after the Games look like empty symbols of power (the buildings are hardly used). The photos of the workers that make up Workers in Emptiness were made during the construction of sports facilities, but in the finished piece they have been abstracted from the landscape.

Emptiness is a state before shape and content – which might be an exact description of the mystical sacredness of power.

In 2011 Kazakhstan hosted the Winter Asian Games. In preparation, several large facilities were built (stadiums, sports complexes etc.) that after the Games look like empty symbols of power (the buildings are hardly used). The photos of the workers that make up Workers in Emptiness were made during the construction of sports facilities, but in the finished piece they have been abstracted from the landscape.

Emptiness is a state before shape and content – which might be an exact description of the mystical sacredness of power.

In 2011 Kazakhstan hosted the Winter Asian Games. In preparation, several large facilities were built (stadiums, sports complexes etc.) that after the Games look like empty symbols of power (the buildings are hardly used). The photos of the workers that make up Workers in Emptiness were made during the construction of sports facilities, but in the finished piece they have been abstracted from the landscape.

Emptiness is a state before shape and content – which might be an exact description of the mystical sacredness of power.

In 2011 Kazakhstan hosted the Winter Asian Games. In preparation, several large facilities were built (stadiums, sports complexes etc.) that after the Games look like empty symbols of power (the buildings are hardly used). The photos of the workers that make up Workers in Emptiness were made during the construction of sports facilities, but in the finished piece they have been abstracted from the landscape.

Emptiness is a state before shape and content – which might be an exact description of the mystical sacredness of power.

In 2011 Kazakhstan hosted the Winter Asian Games. In preparation, several large facilities were built (stadiums, sports complexes etc.) that after the Games look like empty symbols of power (the buildings are hardly used). The photos of the workers that make up Workers in Emptiness were made during the construction of sports facilities, but in the finished piece they have been abstracted from the landscape.

Emptiness is a state before shape and content – which might be an exact description of the mystical sacredness of power.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

We Are from Texas consists of two parts. The first part was shot during 2002-2005 in the southern region of Kazakhstan. People call this region – ironically – “Texas”. It is called Texas not only because of the natural landscape and oil wells reminiscent of Texas, USA, but because its citizens are also famous for organising their society by a kind of informal folk-logic rather than national law. The second part was shot in 2010 in in the U.S. state of Texas.

In the process of globalization the discourse of “East-West” is dominant, and the two merge into a single space. But in fact, in our time, the border between justice and injustice, natives and immigrants, runs North-South. Ugay finished the project, symbolically, in 2010 in Houston. He had a tattoo drawn on his right shoulder that combines the two symbols of the one community of the friends*.

*The name “Texas” is based on the Caddo word tejas meaning “friends” or “allies”.

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

For his photo project Memory Objects Alexander Ugay took pictures of photographs that once belonged to prisoners of concentration camps.

“Yet Ugay is not interested in the image side of the archive cards. Rather, he is drawn to their reverse sides, which document eloquently the fragility and perishability of the artifact, the memory of the trauma committed. The objectified photographs – torn, fused, fragmented, bearing traces of the devastating effects of time, moisture and dust – appeal to our memory like archaeological artifacts, activating the pain of loss more directly than the narrative of images. The artist creates an image that becomes a conceptual object, consisting of more images, archival context and the memory of historical trauma.”

Yuliya Sorokina

The nonlinearity of the perception of history today is due to the non-linear paradigm of modernity. On the one hand it is free from the imposition of the authority of the “main line” of collective memories, and allows us to easily modulate the genealogy of our individual and cultural memory. On the other hand, every authoritative grand narrative begins with the construction or deconstruction of history. In this regard, the discreteness of history is similar to the discreteness of machines.

Since Simonides and Cicero it has been widely known that a good way of remembering important pieces of information is to link each to a specific, familiar place. Then, to remember, you simply mentally revisit these places. In the same way, history (as a process of the development of productive forces) can be tied to important places, and the cultural memory located by following these paths between them. Model for the Assembly was executed after Ugay’s research into the Korean diaspora in Kazakhstan, and it is a kind of iconographic form of the collective memory of this diaspora in the present moment in history. The surface of this sentence-icon reflects evolution through time (Diachronicity), and the size of the images reflects their value at this single moment (Synchronicity) – the larger the image, the bigger the event occupies in the space of collective memory.

This collage is based on the answers to a questionnaire given by people of the Korean diaspora in Central Asia. The location of the images in the collage corresponds to history and the flow of history in time (Diachronicity). The size of the individual images indicates the importance of the historical event to the group at present (Synchronicity).

The nonlinearity of the perception of history today is due to the non-linear paradigm of modernity. On the one hand it is free from the imposition of the authority of the “main line” of collective memories, and allows us to easily modulate the genealogy of our individual and cultural memory. On the other hand, every authoritative grand narrative begins with the construction or deconstruction of history. In this regard, the discreteness of history is similar to the discreteness of machines.

Since Simonides and Cicero it has been widely known that a good way of remembering important pieces of information is to link each to a specific, familiar place. Then, to remember, you simply mentally revisit these places. In the same way, history (as a process of the development of productive forces) can be tied to important places, and the cultural memory located by following these paths between them. Model for the Assembly was executed after Ugay’s research into the Korean diaspora in Kazakhstan, and it is a kind of iconographic form of the collective memory of this diaspora in the present moment in history. The surface of this sentence-icon reflects evolution through time (Diachronicity), and the size of the images reflects their value at this single moment (Synchronicity) – the larger the image, the bigger the event occupies in the space of collective memory.

This collage is based on the answers to a questionnaire given by people of the Korean diaspora in Central Asia. The location of the images in the collage corresponds to history and the flow of history in time (Diachronicity). The size of the individual images indicates the importance of the historical event to the group at present (Synchronicity).

The nonlinearity of the perception of history today is due to the non-linear paradigm of modernity. On the one hand it is free from the imposition of the authority of the “main line” of collective memories, and allows us to easily modulate the genealogy of our individual and cultural memory. On the other hand, every authoritative grand narrative begins with the construction or deconstruction of history. In this regard, the discreteness of history is similar to the discreteness of machines.

Since Simonides and Cicero it has been widely known that a good way of remembering important pieces of information is to link each to a specific, familiar place. Then, to remember, you simply mentally revisit these places. In the same way, history (as a process of the development of productive forces) can be tied to important places, and the cultural memory located by following these paths between them. Model for the Assembly was executed after Ugay’s research into the Korean diaspora in Kazakhstan, and it is a kind of iconographic form of the collective memory of this diaspora in the present moment in history. The surface of this sentence-icon reflects evolution through time (Diachronicity), and the size of the images reflects their value at this single moment (Synchronicity) – the larger the image, the bigger the event occupies in the space of collective memory.

This collage is based on the answers to a questionnaire given by people of the Korean diaspora in Central Asia. The location of the images in the collage corresponds to history and the flow of history in time (Diachronicity). The size of the individual images indicates the importance of the historical event to the group at present (Synchronicity).

The nonlinearity of the perception of history today is due to the non-linear paradigm of modernity. On the one hand it is free from the imposition of the authority of the “main line” of collective memories, and allows us to easily modulate the genealogy of our individual and cultural memory. On the other hand, every authoritative grand narrative begins with the construction or deconstruction of history. In this regard, the discreteness of history is similar to the discreteness of machines.

Since Simonides and Cicero it has been widely known that a good way of remembering important pieces of information is to link each to a specific, familiar place. Then, to remember, you simply mentally revisit these places. In the same way, history (as a process of the development of productive forces) can be tied to important places, and the cultural memory located by following these paths between them. Model for the Assembly was executed after Ugay’s research into the Korean diaspora in Kazakhstan, and it is a kind of iconographic form of the collective memory of this diaspora in the present moment in history. The surface of this sentence-icon reflects evolution through time (Diachronicity), and the size of the images reflects their value at this single moment (Synchronicity) – the larger the image, the bigger the event occupies in the space of collective memory.

This collage is based on the answers to a questionnaire given by people of the Korean diaspora in Central Asia. The location of the images in the collage corresponds to history and the flow of history in time (Diachronicity). The size of the individual images indicates the importance of the historical event to the group at present (Synchronicity).

In his project Anonymous Archive, Alexander Ugay “collected photographs of various people – friends, relatives, strangers who threw out their neglected photograph albums – all taken by amateurs who wanted to capture the most important moments of their personal lives. There is often nothing special about them to the objective viewer – they usually feature some happy, unknown group of people on vacation, at work, on a walk, during a journey, etc.. These photos are not important artifacts, even though they are probably the most accurate and detailed reflections of their era. Ugay accentuates these ‘unimportant’ details by making use of a technique that refers to the Antonioni film Blow-Up (1966). He selects a peripheral element of the photograph and zooms in on that minor detail as closely as possible. It turns out that an image contains not only a flow of information, but also the emotional register of an entire era. All these zoomed-in details, these traces of time, convey the sentimental essence of the captured moment.”

Yuliya Sorokina

In his project Anonymous Archive, Alexander Ugay “collected photographs of various people – friends, relatives, strangers who threw out their neglected photograph albums – all taken by amateurs who wanted to capture the most important moments of their personal lives. There is often nothing special about them to the objective viewer – they usually feature some happy, unknown group of people on vacation, at work, on a walk, during a journey, etc.. These photos are not important artifacts, even though they are probably the most accurate and detailed reflections of their era. Ugay accentuates these ‘unimportant’ details by making use of a technique that refers to the Antonioni film Blow-Up (1966). He selects a peripheral element of the photograph and zooms in on that minor detail as closely as possible. It turns out that an image contains not only a flow of information, but also the emotional register of an entire era. All these zoomed-in details, these traces of time, convey the sentimental essence of the captured moment.”

Yuliya Sorokina

In his project Anonymous Archive, Alexander Ugay “collected photographs of various people – friends, relatives, strangers who threw out their neglected photograph albums – all taken by amateurs who wanted to capture the most important moments of their personal lives. There is often nothing special about them to the objective viewer – they usually feature some happy, unknown group of people on vacation, at work, on a walk, during a journey, etc.. These photos are not important artifacts, even though they are probably the most accurate and detailed reflections of their era. Ugay accentuates these ‘unimportant’ details by making use of a technique that refers to the Antonioni film Blow-Up (1966). He selects a peripheral element of the photograph and zooms in on that minor detail as closely as possible. It turns out that an image contains not only a flow of information, but also the emotional register of an entire era. All these zoomed-in details, these traces of time, convey the sentimental essence of the captured moment.”

Yuliya Sorokina

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

Everything is moving, is in permanent formation: from the idea to the image; the image to objects; objects to new states. Therefore the image (as the main element of movement) needs fixing during a time of deceleration or deconstruction if its movement accelerates. For example, in these collages illustrations from the Soviet magazine Designer-Modeller exhibit both scientific and technological progress as one form of movement (into the future), yet they have been suspended in time through the Soviet fixing of the idyllic image of the “future in the present”. They create a space between the whole and a fragment, construction and deconstruction, emptiness and fullness, maintaining a dynamic tension between the Image, the Thing, and the New Condition.

The series More than Dreams, Less than Things started in 2013. Ugay explains: ‘I was considering the motion of an idea (desire) towards an image, then further, from an image to a thing, and from a thing to a new state, in various structures. In this work I am considering and comparing this motion as it is found in three different systems:

1. The binary system of Ying-Yang, as described in the I-Ching

2. Modern mythology, based on images, memory, psychoanalysis and identity

3. Imagination in the mass media.

The constellations in this case act as a metaphor for “the surface of motion“; it creates a situation but does not either freeze the situation (the things) or change it (dreams).’

The series More than Dreams, Less than Things started in 2013. Ugay explains: ‘I was considering the motion of an idea (desire) towards an image, then further, from an image to a thing, and from a thing to a new state, in various structures. In this work I am considering and comparing this motion as it is found in three different systems:

1. The binary system of Ying-Yang, as described in the I-Ching

2. Modern mythology, based on images, memory, psychoanalysis and identity

3. Imagination in the mass media.

The constellations in this case act as a metaphor for “the surface of motion“; it creates a situation but does not either freeze the situation (the things) or change it (dreams).’

The series More than Dreams, Less than Things started in 2013. Ugay explains: ‘I was considering the motion of an idea (desire) towards an image, then further, from an image to a thing, and from a thing to a new state, in various structures. In this work I am considering and comparing this motion as it is found in three different systems:

1. The binary system of Ying-Yang, as described in the I-Ching

2. Modern mythology, based on images, memory, psychoanalysis and identity

3. Imagination in the mass media.

The constellations in this case act as a metaphor for “the surface of motion“; it creates a situation but does not either freeze the situation (the things) or change it (dreams).’

The series More than Dreams, Less than Things started in 2013. Ugay explains: ‘I was considering the motion of an idea (desire) towards an image, then further, from an image to a thing, and from a thing to a new state, in various structures. In this work I am considering and comparing this motion as it is found in three different systems:

1. The binary system of Ying-Yang, as described in the I-Ching

2. Modern mythology, based on images, memory, psychoanalysis and identity

3. Imagination in the mass media.

The constellations in this case act as a metaphor for “the surface of motion“; it creates a situation but does not either freeze the situation (the things) or change it (dreams).’

The series More than Dreams, Less than Things started in 2013. Ugay explains: ‘I was considering the motion of an idea (desire) towards an image, then further, from an image to a thing, and from a thing to a new state, in various structures. In this work I am considering and comparing this motion as it is found in three different systems:

1. The binary system of Ying-Yang, as described in the I-Ching

2. Modern mythology, based on images, memory, psychoanalysis and identity

3. Imagination in the mass media.

The constellations in this case act as a metaphor for “the surface of motion“; it creates a situation but does not either freeze the situation (the things) or change it (dreams).’

The series More than Dreams, Less than Things started in 2013. Ugay explains: ‘I was considering the motion of an idea (desire) towards an image, then further, from an image to a thing, and from a thing to a new state, in various structures. In this work I am considering and comparing this motion as it is found in three different systems:

1. The binary system of Ying-Yang, as described in the I-Ching

2. Modern mythology, based on images, memory, psychoanalysis and identity

3. Imagination in the mass media.

The constellations in this case act as a metaphor for “the surface of motion“; it creates a situation but does not either freeze the situation (the things) or change it (dreams).’

The video as a collage combines disparate spaces in a single plan. In this plan there is no east and west or north and south. Moving through different countries the camera captures spaces, architectural shapes and the situation, containing layers of memory and desire.

Geography is not confined to providing historical form with a substance and variable places. It is not merely physical and human but mental, like the landscape. Becoming is always double, and it is this double becoming that constitutes the people to come and the new earth. The philosopher must become non-philosopher so that non philosophy becomes the earth and people of philosophy.

Gilles Deleuze

The video as a collage combines disparate spaces in a single plan. In this plan there is no east and west or north and south. Moving through different countries the camera captures spaces, architectural shapes and the situation, containing layers of memory and desire.

Geography is not confined to providing historical form with a substance and variable places. It is not merely physical and human but mental, like the landscape. Becoming is always double, and it is this double becoming that constitutes the people to come and the new earth. The philosopher must become non-philosopher so that non philosophy becomes the earth and people of philosophy.

Gilles Deleuze

During his residency in Lublin in 2017 Alexander Ugay started a new series of photo-installations “Obscurations”. “Obscuration” is “the artist’s own innovation, allowing him to capture and ‘objectify’ the image of one place in the space-time continuum, while adding extra meanings and narratives. In reality, an obscuration is a physical structure made by the artist, serving as a key to the semantic realization of its author's hypothesis. It works using the same principle as a pinhole camera – the simplest analogue camera, where the walls are not only the structure and the surface of the object, but also the receiver of the photographic image (inside the object is coated with a layer of photosensitive material). Installed in a symbolic place, an obscuration becomes a part of its architectural space, a symbolic object, and a photographic image at the same time. After an image is captured the object is opened and developed, creating a situation where the internal, photographic, surface enters into spatial relations with the external, symbolic, form and density of the object.”

Yuliya Sorokina

One of the first Obscurations “Documentation of the Place of Promise” (2017) is linked to Lublin’s problematic history. According to cartographic sources the Lublin cemetery was East of the Market Square and stretched to the edge of the Great Pond. In the 19th century the cemetery was enlarged to its final form. Photographs from the interwar period show parts of the cemetery with tombstones typical of that era, indicating that the cemetery was still in active use until World War II. In March 1940 the Nazis began the deportation of Jews from Wieniawa. The destruction of houses and municipal facilities, including the cemetery, followed soon after. Tombstones taken from Lublin cemetery were used to pave the streets. The Nazis build a sports stadium on the site of the synagogue and parts of the cemetery. In the 1950s the stadium was expanded to meet the needs of the Lublinianka sports club. It is still operational today.

During his residency in Lublin in 2017 Alexander Ugay started a new series of photo-installations “Obscurations”. “Obscuration” is “the artist’s own innovation, allowing him to capture and ‘objectify’ the image of one place in the space-time continuum, while adding extra meanings and narratives. In reality, an obscuration is a physical structure made by the artist, serving as a key to the semantic realization of its author's hypothesis. It works using the same principle as a pinhole camera – the simplest analogue camera, where the walls are not only the structure and the surface of the object, but also the receiver of the photographic image (inside the object is coated with a layer of photosensitive material). Installed in a symbolic place, an obscuration becomes a part of its architectural space, a symbolic object, and a photographic image at the same time. After an image is captured the object is opened and developed, creating a situation where the internal, photographic, surface enters into spatial relations with the external, symbolic, form and density of the object.”

Yuliya Sorokina

One of the first Obscurations “Documentation of the Place of Promise” (2017) is linked to Lublin’s problematic history. According to cartographic sources the Lublin cemetery was East of the Market Square and stretched to the edge of the Great Pond. In the 19th century the cemetery was enlarged to its final form. Photographs from the interwar period show parts of the cemetery with tombstones typical of that era, indicating that the cemetery was still in active use until World War II. In March 1940 the Nazis began the deportation of Jews from Wieniawa. The destruction of houses and municipal facilities, including the cemetery, followed soon after. Tombstones taken from Lublin cemetery were used to pave the streets. The Nazis build a sports stadium on the site of the synagogue and parts of the cemetery. In the 1950s the stadium was expanded to meet the needs of the Lublinianka sports club. It is still operational today.

During his residency in Lublin in 2017 Alexander Ugay started a new series of photo-installations “Obscurations”. “Obscuration” is “the artist’s own innovation, allowing him to capture and ‘objectify’ the image of one place in the space-time continuum, while adding extra meanings and narratives. In reality, an obscuration is a physical structure made by the artist, serving as a key to the semantic realization of its author's hypothesis. It works using the same principle as a pinhole camera – the simplest analogue camera, where the walls are not only the structure and the surface of the object, but also the receiver of the photographic image (inside the object is coated with a layer of photosensitive material). Installed in a symbolic place, an obscuration becomes a part of its architectural space, a symbolic object, and a photographic image at the same time. After an image is captured the object is opened and developed, creating a situation where the internal, photographic, surface enters into spatial relations with the external, symbolic, form and density of the object.”

Yuliya Sorokina

One of the first Obscurations “Documentation of the Place of Promise” (2017) is linked to Lublin’s problematic history. According to cartographic sources the Lublin cemetery was East of the Market Square and stretched to the edge of the Great Pond. In the 19th century the cemetery was enlarged to its final form. Photographs from the interwar period show parts of the cemetery with tombstones typical of that era, indicating that the cemetery was still in active use until World War II. In March 1940 the Nazis began the deportation of Jews from Wieniawa. The destruction of houses and municipal facilities, including the cemetery, followed soon after. Tombstones taken from Lublin cemetery were used to pave the streets. The Nazis build a sports stadium on the site of the synagogue and parts of the cemetery. In the 1950s the stadium was expanded to meet the needs of the Lublinianka sports club. It is still operational today.

Rustam Khalfin’s ‘Pulota’ (1) are simple optical devices capable of fragmenting the field of view, like an Obscuration. The Obscuration placed on Republic Square (2) combines an artistic context, an architectural image and a place of memory, forming a plastic object located on the symbolic border between late Soviet modernism and nomadic modernism (3).

(1) The elementary objects installed along with Khalfin’s video pieces are called ‘Pulota’, referring to a central concept of Khalfin’s, meaning ‘a void in a fist’. They represent the hollow space within a fist; a bodily camera obscura. The word itself is a combination of the Russian words pustota (void) and kulak (fist), and refers to nomadic wanderings through one’s inner space – an exploration which occupied Khalfin throughout his professional and personal life.

(2) Specifically the 16-storey buildings on Republic Square. Architects: M. Pavlov, Y. Tumanyan, R. Khalfin. The project was awarded the gold medal of the VDNHKh of the USSR in 1981.

(3) Nomadic modernism is Khalfin’s main concept.

Rustam Khalfin’s ‘Pulota’ (1) are simple optical devices capable of fragmenting the field of view, like an Obscuration. The Obscuration placed on Republic Square (2) combines an artistic context, an architectural image and a place of memory, forming a plastic object located on the symbolic border between late Soviet modernism and nomadic modernism (3).

(1) The elementary objects installed along with Khalfin’s video pieces are called ‘Pulota’, referring to a central concept of Khalfin’s, meaning ‘a void in a fist’. They represent the hollow space within a fist; a bodily camera obscura. The word itself is a combination of the Russian words pustota (void) and kulak (fist), and refers to nomadic wanderings through one’s inner space – an exploration which occupied Khalfin throughout his professional and personal life.

(2) Specifically the 16-storey buildings on Republic Square. Architects: M. Pavlov, Y. Tumanyan, R. Khalfin. The project was awarded the gold medal of the VDNHKh of the USSR in 1981.

(3) Nomadic modernism is Khalfin’s main concept.

Rustam Khalfin’s ‘Pulota’ (1) are simple optical devices capable of fragmenting the field of view, like an Obscuration. The Obscuration placed on Republic Square (2) combines an artistic context, an architectural image and a place of memory, forming a plastic object located on the symbolic border between late Soviet modernism and nomadic modernism (3).

(1) The elementary objects installed along with Khalfin’s video pieces are called ‘Pulota’, referring to a central concept of Khalfin’s, meaning ‘a void in a fist’. They represent the hollow space within a fist; a bodily camera obscura. The word itself is a combination of the Russian words pustota (void) and kulak (fist), and refers to nomadic wanderings through one’s inner space – an exploration which occupied Khalfin throughout his professional and personal life.

(2) Specifically the 16-storey buildings on Republic Square. Architects: M. Pavlov, Y. Tumanyan, R. Khalfin. The project was awarded the gold medal of the VDNHKh of the USSR in 1981.

(3) Nomadic modernism is Khalfin’s main concept.

Established in a courtyard, this Obscuraton becomes a piece of street furniture in a Khrushchev-era microdistrict. The “Khrushchyovka”, based on the Le Corbusier’s principle that “a house is a machine for living in”, has morphed from being a functional building to taking on an ideological, symbolic register. Now, it has become an aesthetic, anonymous object – in other words, a conceptual object.

The Obscuraton combines the images of Stalin’s high-rises (one of which was realized in Astana) and the literal, tautological image of Tony Smith's sculpture We Lost. It shows a disturbing relationship between the functional, the ideological and the conceptual – both inside the object as well as in ‘mezzo-space’ (1).

(1) Mezzo-spaces – places in the urban landscape not only visible with the eye, but in which man feels responsibility for events occurring before his eyes and for his participation in them.

Established in a courtyard, this Obscuraton becomes a piece of street furniture in a Khrushchev-era microdistrict. The “Khrushchyovka”, based on the Le Corbusier’s principle that “a house is a machine for living in”, has morphed from being a functional building to taking on an ideological, symbolic register. Now, it has become an aesthetic, anonymous object – in other words, a conceptual object.

The Obscuraton combines the images of Stalin’s high-rises (one of which was realized in Astana) and the literal, tautological image of Tony Smith's sculpture We Lost. It shows a disturbing relationship between the functional, the ideological and the conceptual – both inside the object as well as in ‘mezzo-space’ (1).

(1) Mezzo-spaces – places in the urban landscape not only visible with the eye, but in which man feels responsibility for events occurring before his eyes and for his participation in them.

Established in a courtyard, this Obscuraton becomes a piece of street furniture in a Khrushchev-era microdistrict. The “Khrushchyovka”, based on the Le Corbusier’s principle that “a house is a machine for living in”, has morphed from being a functional building to taking on an ideological, symbolic register. Now, it has become an aesthetic, anonymous object – in other words, a conceptual object.

The Obscuraton combines the images of Stalin’s high-rises (one of which was realized in Astana) and the literal, tautological image of Tony Smith's sculpture We Lost. It shows a disturbing relationship between the functional, the ideological and the conceptual – both inside the object as well as in ‘mezzo-space’ (1).

(1) Mezzo-spaces – places in the urban landscape not only visible with the eye, but in which man feels responsibility for events occurring before his eyes and for his participation in them.

This Obscuraton is a horizon line, absorbing the vanishing points of the photographic images inside the object. A photograph’s unfolded, depressurized form gives the maximum difference between the horizontal and vertical. Yet the minimal difference between the object and the image in a photograph does not allow us to take the “homogeneous view” of the homogeneous optical space shown. Tactility, colliding with optical perception on the surface of the external and the internal, brings out the worrisome outlines of another, hidden landscape.

This Obscuraton is a horizon line, absorbing the vanishing points of the photographic images inside the object. A photograph’s unfolded, depressurized form gives the maximum difference between the horizontal and vertical. Yet the minimal difference between the object and the image in a photograph does not allow us to take the “homogeneous view” of the homogeneous optical space shown. Tactility, colliding with optical perception on the surface of the external and the internal, brings out the worrisome outlines of another, hidden landscape.

For his project ‘More than Dreams, Less than Things. Kinetic Object’, Alexander Ugay cut sewing patterns of Korean national costume out from a wooden filing cabinet – a cabinet that once stored slides in a library. The carved patterns, assembled into a new object, are then bisected with a cut. This linear cut emphasizes even further the complexity of the dressmaking patterns. Exhibited nearby is the copy of the dressmaking patterns. In the installation two ways of organizing information therefore co-exist: the 'universal', structured library catalogue, and traditional costume as the guardian of national memory and identity.

For his project ‘More than Dreams, Less than Things. Kinetic Object’, Alexander Ugay cut sewing patterns of Korean national costume out from a wooden filing cabinet – a cabinet that once stored slides in a library. The carved patterns, assembled into a new object, are then bisected with a cut. This linear cut emphasizes even further the complexity of the dressmaking patterns. Exhibited nearby is the copy of the dressmaking patterns. In the installation two ways of organizing information therefore co-exist: the 'universal', structured library catalogue, and traditional costume as the guardian of national memory and identity.

For his project ‘More than Dreams, Less than Things. Kinetic Object’, Alexander Ugay cut sewing patterns of Korean national costume out from a wooden filing cabinet – a cabinet that once stored slides in a library. The carved patterns, assembled into a new object, are then bisected with a cut. This linear cut emphasizes even further the complexity of the dressmaking patterns. Exhibited nearby is the copy of the dressmaking patterns. In the installation two ways of organizing information therefore co-exist: the 'universal', structured library catalogue, and traditional costume as the guardian of national memory and identity.

This project has direct links with the Aral Sea, where my ancestors settled after Stalin's massive deportation of Koreans in 1937. My grandfather became a captain of Kommuna ship. As part of my inheritance from him I received a book entitled Sailing Directions for the Aral Sea and photos. This was a starting point of my expedition to Aralsk.

I tried to grasp something that exists in the geological, collective and individual memories simultaneously. Hence the multilayered image, revealing weak connections between the symbolic surface of geography, the surface of the site, and the photographic surface of memory.

All sites, as well as their toponyms, navigation and landscape descriptions were taken from the book Sailing Directions for the Aral Sea. Then they were located through Google Earth using latitudes and longitudes specified in the book and combined with archive photographs from my family, which were made in Aralsk and the Aral Sea area between 1947–1975.

This project has direct links with the Aral Sea, where my ancestors settled after Stalin's massive deportation of Koreans in 1937. My grandfather became a captain of Kommuna ship. As part of my inheritance from him I received a book entitled Sailing Directions for the Aral Sea and photos. This was a starting point of my expedition to Aralsk.

I tried to grasp something that exists in the geological, collective and individual memories simultaneously. Hence the multilayered image, revealing weak connections between the symbolic surface of geography, the surface of the site, and the photographic surface of memory.

All sites, as well as their toponyms, navigation and landscape descriptions were taken from the book Sailing Directions for the Aral Sea. Then they were located through Google Earth using latitudes and longitudes specified in the book and combined with archive photographs from my family, which were made in Aralsk and the Aral Sea area between 1947–1975.

This project has direct links with the Aral Sea, where my ancestors settled after Stalin's massive deportation of Koreans in 1937. My grandfather became a captain of Kommuna ship. As part of my inheritance from him I received a book entitled Sailing Directions for the Aral Sea and photos. This was a starting point of my expedition to Aralsk.

I tried to grasp something that exists in the geological, collective and individual memories simultaneously. Hence the multilayered image, revealing weak connections between the symbolic surface of geography, the surface of the site, and the photographic surface of memory.

All sites, as well as their toponyms, navigation and landscape descriptions were taken from the book Sailing Directions for the Aral Sea. Then they were located through Google Earth using latitudes and longitudes specified in the book and combined with archive photographs from my family, which were made in Aralsk and the Aral Sea area between 1947–1975.

Koryoins labor migrants show the movements of their working process in South Korea. Monotone and "infinite" nature of the activity immerses a human into a meditative state of mind, where alienated time turns into the inner time and wandering memory fills existential voids. The repetition principle in an unalienated form brings out the Difference as in the case of craftsmanship or a regained time. Automatism, boredom, anxiety arise in an alienated form. The conventionality and ritualism of the performance connects external and mental sides of the industrial labor in a mirror image on the social surface.

This video may be an attempt to capture an image of collective anxiety in the imagination and memory of the Koryoin community which is in the process of reinventing the Earth during deterritorialization.