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Your art is closely connected with the theme of wars and first of all with the war in Ukraine. As far as I understand, the first works of 742 appeared just about 2 years ago and since then you have been constantly talking about war crimes and incessant casualties. Was the war in Ukraine really a turning point for you? Did your life before the war have anything to do with art or politics?
My pre-war art experience is really different from what I do now.
In 2022, something happened that should not have happened – the war between Russia and Ukraine. Then everything turned upside down: your Maslow pyramid turns into V. Vereshchagin’s “Apotheosis”, and you roll from the top called “culture” to its very base.
Many people then came out in single pickets or groups and painted the surface with words that are now forbidden to say in Russia. We made a 15-meter stretching board with these words and placed it on a federal highway. But this was not an artistic gesture – it was a basic need, a need to speak.
For me, any war is a huge mountain of human casualties and broken destinies, where grief has a special place. It is this theme that has become the main theme in my works.
I would like to talk about the process of creating works and the technical side. I have been following what you do for a long time and I see that some works appear instantly – as a response to current events, such as “Mourning” on Moscow road near the Greek cathedral in memory of the victims of the terrorist attack in Crocus. But much more often your works give the impression of very labor-intensive and pre-planned actions. Tell me, please, how do you find places for your works? How long does it usually take you to prepare a project, what difficulties do you encounter, both technical and emotional?
Spontaneous works are rather the exception. More often the creation of a work is a very labor-intensive process, and even if a good idea came instantly, the preparation can take a long time. So, for example, it happened with the memorial “100 Years in the Shadow of War. The Poetry of Numbers”, where it took almost a year just to find a suitable location.
Another dilemma is legal versus illegal. The legal way in 90% of cases is to refuse or compromise. For example, in September there were plans to place black mourning ribbons on the caryatids that guard the entrance to The Crypt of St Pancras Parish Church gallery. The Brainwashing Machine, an exhibition exploring propaganda techniques, was recently held there. The organizers of the exhibition helped us to negotiate a venue, but were eventually refused – the church justified the refusal by the fragility of the architecture. It was suggested that we instead put performers with ribbons between the statues, but this was a half-measure that we didn’t go for.
A similar situation happened with the weathervane “In the world the winds of war rage”, which was to be installed 102 meters from the prime meridian in Greenwich Park. However, the park sent a refusal, citing that the work might not appeal to some visitors.
The illegal way is shorter and more honest. Another park was chosen for the weathervane, and it was mounted quickly and without any approvals. The minuses of this approach are that the objects disappear quickly, and the closer you work to the city center, the more you are seen and the more questions you are asked.
What happens to your works after they are made? Do you get to follow their fate or see how people react to them? How difficult is it to create such labor-intensive projects and keep your anonymity?
Usually the process is designed to involve as little direct interaction with people as possible, but this was not the case with the 100 Years in the Shadow of War memorial. The memorial was created over 40 days: the dates of life and death of those who were born after the First World War and suffered during military and political conflicts between 1924 and 2024 were hand-painted on the concrete wall. There were 5050 dates in total, with work starting at 8am and finishing around 7pm. There was a hiking trail next to the wall, so there was bound to be communication with people several times an hour. Over time there were regular visitors who watched the process of creating the work. One day we came and saw that the locals had cleared a path along the memorial – it was very nice.
There was a peculiar dialog with the work “Important Words”. It was made in response to the news that on April 25, a biography of the Italian director and poet Pier Paolo Pasolini was published in Russia with several dozen pages of text blacked out. The work “Important Words” depicted an open book with censored paragraphs on a black background. Someone carefully covered the book with black paint, it turned out quite interesting. However, we quickly reacted and applied white vertical stripes on top. We are looking forward to the sequel.
By the way, let’s talk separately about anonymity. Why is it important for street artists, and for you in particular, to hide your identity? Is it due to security considerations or is it more about creative principles?
Vera, it is impossible to remain completely anonymous, and I have no illusions about it. Everyone has his or her own reasons for keeping a low profile, but practice shows that it gives you a sense of security, even if it is imaginary. My decision was primarily due to this, there is no mystification here, and of course I wanted to shift the focus to art rather than identity.
In your art you often refer to the works of other artists – Vereshchagin, Goncharova and Grosse. Why do you do this? Do you think it gives an additional layer of meaning to your works?
I think the main point here is to “resurrect” these works – to reinterpret them and apply them to today’s reality.
I am interested in how my colleagues in the field experienced this kind of experience. How emigration, war and the post-war period were reflected in their work. They faced the same issues 50, 100, 200 years ago as I do now. Sometimes you can find statements so precise and powerful that you realize “you can’t say it any better,” so all you have to do is repeat it.
There are such findings not only in literature and art. The experience of the musical anti-war movement is important to me. Music has a very strong influence on me. We recently launched an online radio where we collect anti-war music from different years and styles. The playlist is intentionally randomized, which creates a time-traveling effect. But sometimes it’s a very difficult journey, especially when you go from British hip-hop of the early 2000s to country music of the 60s, which you don’t really like (laughs).
Do I understand correctly that the image of the First World War is also important to you? You mention it in 100 Years in the Shadow of War and when you quote Goncharova and Grosse. Do you see any parallels between our current state and the history of the First World War?
We cannot think back 300 years, but we can certainly think back 100 years. The consequences of the First World War can still be heard and felt today, they are transforming and germinating.
The war that was supposed to “end all wars” showed that we hadn’t learned and understood everything. “Where have all the flowers gone? – sings a famous anti-war song. – They’re all on the graves.”
Today, military conflicts continue to erupt around the world, as Mona Hatoum’s work “Hot Spot” illustrates perfectly, showing the constant tension on our planet.
Lastly, I want to thank my friends and family for their help and support at all hours of the day and night!
More work by artist 742 can be found at Seel Netoo’s link (@742artist)
