DIMA FILIPPOV | Brink


17.01.2024 - 28.01.2024

When I return home, more than anything I value the fading away of one control and the appearance of
another. Other vital rhythms come to the fore, a place where things can remain incompletely defined.
In depicting landscapes, I do not focus on the details. I want to show that which never comes into the
frame. Those events that remain beyond its perimeter represent the potential for meeting.

Gradually, a system of signs forms, and a set of tools which can help to describe these impressions.

Each tool has its own intonation. The choice of tool and the configuration of material and place
produce a large proportion of the work. It may be that the work is defined long before the beginning.
Selecting, sorting through variants, trying all possible combinations along the way: this process forms
the basis of the artwork and is an important part of my method.

Working with drawing begins from the child’s idea of the relationship between paper and pencil,
from how (and how fast) a single sheet of paper will be filled and the next begins to be sketched out.
Repetition reveals what I cannot see. Drawing cannot be approached speculatively, without practice,
and this surprising detail keeps bringing me back.

For me, drawing was always something casual, something involving sketching, but now I have
a much stronger relationship to it. Today, some means of producing art make me doubt my resilience.
Drawing is a starting point that can lead to other art forms and to a different view of art as a whole.

It could be said that I always draw the same subject. An averaged perception of the basic relationships
of the horizon line, the boundaries of the frame and the airy perspectives form the space of a ‘world’
that is vaguely reminiscent of my travels and images of the place I am from (the town of Gornyak in
Altai Krai).
All of my previous works are indirectly embodied in drawing, and for this reason I do not use
photographs or preparatory sketches. Sometimes I make a rough outline of the composition, ideas
about the relationship between empty and full. It might be a sudden rupture of the boundary of
the drawing within the sheet of paper, a repetition of the movement of sun-like dots, a scattering of
looping lines that ‘staple’ the viewer and the paper, or schematic images of space (lakes, frameworks
of buildings, smoke). The opposition of near and far, sharp and blurred. All of this forms a dictionary
that I use and supplement from time to time.

The relationship between humans and the landscape forms the basis of my practice. While observing
existing places I discover the story of interaction and also the desire for division and transformation.
In what way one influences the other, how the space itself is able to change a person and how a person,
in turn, is open to finding possibilities for existence within a defined territory. In my field work I aim
for places that have ‘average’ qualities, that cannot interrupt my gaze or my artistic gesture.

Drawing was always on the periphery of my pursuits, a supplementary element that filled the spare
time between field work and activities at Elektrozavod Gallery. At the gallery I focus on the dialogue
between the artist and the exhibition space. Drawings are too independent. They are the carriers
of their own space, and this quality demands a different type of interaction: close contact, personal
discussion. I always saw drawings as a ‘ticket’ to the rest of my practice.

By drawing I can return to that state in which the relationship between the world and me had not yet
formed, when I perceived art as a distant pursuit for people with special knowledge or a gift. Today,
I really need this return.