{"id":1179,"date":"2024-10-16T14:14:08","date_gmt":"2024-10-16T11:14:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/photoartdoc.com\/?page_id=1179"},"modified":"2024-10-26T12:31:42","modified_gmt":"2024-10-26T09:31:42","slug":"dutca-and-sidorenko","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/photoartdoc.com\/2024\/en\/dutca-and-sidorenko\/","title":{"rendered":"Dutca and Sidorenko"},"content":{"rendered":"
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PHOTOARTDOC 2024<\/strong>
best project<\/p>\n\n\n\n

OPEN NOMINATION<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

all results<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Duo Carolina Dutca and Valentin Sidorenko<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Artists who work with photography, video and text.
Since 2019 they have been living and working in Moldova.
Karolina was born and raised a stone's throw from the river, in 1995, in Moldova (Transnistria). She studied art and documentary photography at the Fotografika Academy (Saint Petersburg, Russia). Valentin was born in 1995, in the small town of Gornyak (Russia). He studied at VGIK (Moscow, Russia), in the animation and multimedia department, and at the Academy of Documentary and Art Photography \"Fotografika\" (Saint Petersburg, Russia).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Karolina likes to experiment and walk on the edge of the genre. Sidorenko likes to dig through found archives and play detective. In their works, they create sacred worlds, observe the breakdown of the usual course of things, in which the boundaries of good and evil, life and death are violated. In this torn world, they try to form connections through art.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

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No Man\u2019s Wedding<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

No Man\u2019s Wedding is a twisted wonderland filled with symbols, rituals and games, which from time immemorial imitated life and death. When working with the theme of war, Valentin and Caroline used the form of a fairy tale. Fairy tales contain archetypes and mythological scenarios. In this story, the man goes to war like fianc\u00e9 goes to wedding. He goes down to the afterlife trying to cheat death, hides out away from it and laughs. He collects shells (an ancient symbol of baptism). But is he worth of holy communion or his baptismal font is filled with soil?

The project was created with the support of the German foundation for contemporary art The Alexander Tutsek Stiftung Foundation<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Once upon a time a snake came to crawl in a soldier\u2019s mind, and so she spake, mother-like:\n\u201cGo to the place I dreamed of last night. There\u2019s a bride for you, and her family ain\u2019t too\nlowly. Take her as your wife, and you\u2019ll live a life of good and plenty. And should anyone ask\nyou when the last time was you kept your own counsel, look him in the face and dark will\nfall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A soldier\u2019s meek as a lamb: so, he did put on his soldier boots and out he stepped, as if\ncrossing the threshold of day. For they weren\u2019t in the habit of latching the latch. \u2018Round he\nlooked and nigh he saw a stranger\u2019s home on a steep hill with nobody\u2019s wedding in full\nswing. At the head of the table was an ill wheel, spinning the guests as it pleased. The only\nguests were five hundred heads of peasant men, two priests, and an old dog under their\nfeet. They each had a place at the table, and on the table, I tell you, between a pork rib and\na herring tail, a lone short candle sat rocking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m nobody\u2019s guest here, but I won\u2019t strand my soul any-old-where either,\u201d the soldier said to himself and stepped on the fine red road, where he and the guests ate gruel with one and the same spoon and washed in the same stove under birch twigs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So he guested-about for a year and a few, and once he settled down, he heard the old dog ask him: \u201cDo you know any fools among soldiers?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The soldier-man looked into the dog\u2019s eyes, and dark fell. The candles died and the spirits changed. It was time to pick a bride to plight his troth. Soon, the soldier stood at the altar in his dress jamket. He had an icon in his hands and a white towel under his feet. The groomsmen led a maid-bride to him. But that maid was dead-mute. Even the veil over her\nface hung breathless. The ill wheel spun ever faster and the priests cheered up. Now, the groom could keep it no longer: \u201cDo you want that I should eat a nail?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He took out a nail and shoved it down his own throat; but the nail freed itself and struck\nagainst the wheel. The wheel rolled over the doorstep; under the doorstep, forefathers awoke from sleep; and the forefathers felt wroth for the men; and the men got a taste of the dirt; and the dirt showed the gifts of the earth; and the gifts were bequeathed to the priests; and the priests took to prayer at once; with the prayer, the candle awoke; and with\nfire the candle burst forth; and the fire undressed the soldier\u2019s bride, and the bride\u2019s snakeskin scales gleamed. The old snake howled and burrowed into the deepest burrow. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The castle ended, the platters emptied, the red wine was stanched. The men saw what had\ncome to pass \u2013 and all their cheer died. They called for a hatchet and spades. The hatchet came walking and made a bed. The spades came hopping and dug a hole. The soldier looked down into the cold nothingness and fell to his knees. He knew at once that the end of his living was near. And then, the skies opened above him. A hoary heron flew down from that crack, dropped a seed into the hole, and out of that seed a tree grew tall, of the kind\nthat grants but one wish.

\u201cI thirst!\u201d the solder-man wished so, and the hill broke in two like a stale loaf. The soldier threw himself on the hard bread and turned into a samovar. So he sat there: no arms, no legs. He would cry, but he had nothing to cry with. And then, it was God\u2019s daylight, and a warm rain came down. And that was solace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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PHOTOARTDOC 2024<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

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