In intimate portraits, Ukrainian artist Sergey Kononov (b. 1994, Odesa) captures quiet moments in time. His tender, introspective scenes are imbued with a sense of familiarity and longing. Transitioning from an early practice filled with fiery, often melancholic imagery, Kononov’s recent paintings unveil glimpses of solitude or togetherness: silent figures gaze into empty space; a girl sleeps beside her dog; a couple lie entwined on a carpeted floor. Something of their inner-selves becomes conveyed on their outer-parameters, where light rebounds off the contours of their faces or bodies. Their eyes never meet the viewer: we remain on the outside looking in.
Light-drenched and pooled in grainy, ochre tones, Kononov’s canvases are reminiscent of film-stills from early cinema. ‘It’s important for me to capture a luminosity. I want to recreate the look of old films – that grain, that warm light – which I’ve loved my whole life,’ he explains. The canon of art history is another important influence on his practice, from Botticelli’s use of light without shadow, translated in Kononov’s work through his use of flash to take preparatory photographs of his subjects, to Egon Schiele’s elongated figures, Balthus’ dreamlike portraits, and the palette and framing of Lucian Freud. In defiant contrast to the socio-political turmoil of his homeland, Kononov’s paintings offer searingly vulnerable moments of respite.
‘Kononov’s paintings, much like the fleeting moments they capture, seem to linger just out of reach, suspended in a quiet glow. Whether it’s the light filtering through his studio windows or the connection he shares with his subjects, everything he touches seems imbued with warmth and care. And perhaps that’s the magic of his work: in a world filled with rushing, it invites you to pause and find a fragment of your own life embedded within the scenes.’
I. Bilkus, ‘Sergey Kononov doesn’t like to be rushed’, Plaster Magazine, October 2024.
