“If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”
– Vincent Van Gogh
Galina Krasskova is a Hudson Valley based artist. As a photographer, she experiments with IPhone photography, and as a painter she works in a variety of media incorporating inspiration and ideas from her “other” life as a Classicist and Religious Studies scholar. She also does delightful glassworks. Her work is vibrant, evocative, and raw.
"First and foremost, my art is my statement. Art for me is about transcending boundaries, courting the sacred, and bringing beauty to life, letting that force spin itself into existence through the fire of my creativity, the work of my hands, and the agitation in my spirit. It is a sacred thing, a living act of evocation, invocation, and prayer." says Krasskova.
When she sits down to draw, or stand at an easel to paint, she is taking part in an expression of reverence that goes back to the neolithic. She joins hands and mind, will and creativity with those first painters who pressed their palms into red ochre and anointed the walls of initiatory caves. Art is a homage to the ancestors, a celebration of the best of the human experience. Like the shaman whose head has been broken open by the fire of Gods, an artist is to serve the flow of that creativity into and upon her world. Art transforms. It preserves us from spiritual and emotional desiccation and to be an artist is, in some way, to be a servant of that which is sacred.
"It's always been there in me, that yearning to step into the flow of that sacred power, to be of service." says Krasskova. The first quarter of her life was spent chasing its shadow through the brutal discipline of ballet which is why the figure so attracts her as a painter. For her the body has always been first and foremost a conduit for that vital current, that force of creative expression. When she paints a woman dancing, or a nude, or a seated figure, she can feel in her own body the taut stress and pull of the musculature, the arc of bone, the resonance of the movement itself. It connects me more viscerally with her art. It is a reminder that she is stepping into a long line of men and women who, via music, painting, photography, sculpture, dance, and a thousand other means of expression, worked magic upon their world. She is taking her part in a lineage.
In the end, it is the frenzy of a Dionysian bacchante that she seeks in her painting: let there be color and fire and the breaking down of all walls, anxieties, and fears that keeps us from ourselves, and joy, and pain, and longing. Her art is eating fire, an ongoing bacchanalia and for that, she is grateful.