Dmitry Cockloft. I Belong Here / Ma Place Est Ici
24th April – 23rd May
Tuesday – Saturday, 11:00 – 19:00
Serene Gallery, 5, Rue Jacques Callot
Serene Gallery, 5, Rue Jacques Callot
For me, the studio is not only a place of work. It is a space you can pass through. You can knock on the window. Invite yourself in. So that people come by, pass through, stop for a moment.
Over time, I realized that this is a very important part of my existence. The studio is a public space: people constantly come here. Most often friends, sometimes strangers. Some come in and stay, others simply pass by. And in this movement a feeling of home appears. A real, living home.
Friendship, for me, is the possibility of being together in different states. Sometimes to sit in silence together. Sometimes to shout. It is a space where you can be anything and not have to explain yourself.
Love... the very word “love” sometimes feels like it should remain in silence. But if I have to say it, then perhaps love is the same as friendship, only you also have sex. It is absolute mutual understanding and respect for one another. Above all - respect.
Over time, I realized that this is a very important part of my existence. The studio is a public space: people constantly come here. Most often friends, sometimes strangers. Some come in and stay, others simply pass by. And in this movement a feeling of home appears. A real, living home.
Friendship, for me, is the possibility of being together in different states. Sometimes to sit in silence together. Sometimes to shout. It is a space where you can be anything and not have to explain yourself.
Love... the very word “love” sometimes feels like it should remain in silence. But if I have to say it, then perhaps love is the same as friendship, only you also have sex. It is absolute mutual understanding and respect for one another. Above all - respect.
With age I think about this more and more. When you are young, it seems that you owe something to everyone: the country, your parents, the older and the younger, strangers on the bus. You must give up your seat, hold doors, and meet expectations. But rarely does anyone ask what you yourself want.
Only later does the possibility appear to meet a person - a partner, a friend - who respects you. And that is probably the most important thing.
For me, the past is first of all a feeling. I have an ability to return to moments I have lived through: I remember the smells, the temperature of the air, what people were wearing, their gestures. Sometimes it is traumatic. Most often it is the difficult, painful memories that return.
But over time the bad things seem to fade. The past becomes something else - a space of searching. Searching for myself, for what I will do, for my language. And in this search there must be space for lightness, for play, for fun.
The future? The future is something almost fairy-tale-like. Sometimes it seems that it simply does not exist.
But the question of place remains open for me. What does “my place” mean? Sometimes I think I have finally found it, but time passes and it feels as if an internal timer goes off. After three years I again need to go somewhere, change location, look for a new space.
Maybe it is because once I settle somewhere, I begin to feel that it becomes too small for me. Or maybe I need new challenges. I like learning languages, arriving in new countries, meeting artists and people. Every city has its own stars, its own stories, its own scene.
And each time everything begins again.
Perhaps it is precisely in this movement that my place exists.
Only later does the possibility appear to meet a person - a partner, a friend - who respects you. And that is probably the most important thing.
For me, the past is first of all a feeling. I have an ability to return to moments I have lived through: I remember the smells, the temperature of the air, what people were wearing, their gestures. Sometimes it is traumatic. Most often it is the difficult, painful memories that return.
But over time the bad things seem to fade. The past becomes something else - a space of searching. Searching for myself, for what I will do, for my language. And in this search there must be space for lightness, for play, for fun.
The future? The future is something almost fairy-tale-like. Sometimes it seems that it simply does not exist.
But the question of place remains open for me. What does “my place” mean? Sometimes I think I have finally found it, but time passes and it feels as if an internal timer goes off. After three years I again need to go somewhere, change location, look for a new space.
Maybe it is because once I settle somewhere, I begin to feel that it becomes too small for me. Or maybe I need new challenges. I like learning languages, arriving in new countries, meeting artists and people. Every city has its own stars, its own stories, its own scene.
And each time everything begins again.
Perhaps it is precisely in this movement that my place exists.
Interview by Aleksandr Blanar
