Prisma Art Prize | Sasha Kochetkova

Sasha Kochetkova: “Glitch and digital error are not only artistic tools for me, but expressions of the human within the non-human, which is a central concept in my artist statement.”

by Marco Crispano

How and why did you start your artistic career?

My path was long and crooked. I started seriously dedicating myself to art in 2021.
I graduated from the University of Graphic Arts in 2008, then worked in graphic and digital design for over ten years. During that time, I began taking steps toward a personal artistic practice: I graduated from the School of Contemporary Art at MMOMA and took painting lessons in artists’ studios.
In 2021, I made the final decision to stop “standing in the doorway” and shifted my priorities fully toward art. I felt there was something unspoken, unfulfilled—something I truly wanted to do. At that point, design had run its course for me, and I was looking for deeper and more honest exploration in areas that interested me. I wanted the freedom to realize my ideas. Of course, my previous experience greatly influences both my artistic method and my statement. Although I started seriously engaging in art relatively late, I am grateful for my journey and find inspiration and support in my background. I feel that an interesting period in my practice is now beginning.

How did you discover your medium and why did you choose it?

I can’t say I’ve completed my search for a medium. I see artistic practice as a process of ongoing transformation. There was a time when I experimented with public art and installations. Currently, my practice focuses on oil painting, digital projects, and experimentation in those areas. Regardless of the medium, all my projects explore the human being and their fragility. I earned my degree in graphic arts, so I started with graphic work. But I was always drawn to color, which I introduced into my graphic work through acrylic and oil pastel. I truly fell in love with oil painting thanks to Andrey Volkov and later, lessons in Anna Tagantseva-Kobzeva’s studio. Probably due to my background and training, I enjoy working quickly, making the painting more dry and graphic, and developing themes through series of 10–15 pieces.

Another important part of my practice is digital. Technology has continued to inspire me since my design days. Digital tools are deeply interwoven with my traditional material practice. For example, I don’t sketch by hand for my oil series; I use 3D scans or modified photographs instead. Glitch and digital error are not only artistic tools for me, but expressions of the human within the non-human, which is a central concept in my artist statement. Sometimes I use digital technology as the sole medium in some projects. Depending on the concept, I use different technologies or involve specialists when I lack a particular skill. I love these collaborations because they bring in an external point of view, and something completely new can emerge through dialogue. One example is my participation in the online Digital Air residency, where I created a VR game about digital immortality, working with a team of professionals. It was an amazing experience, and I plan to further develop that project.

Can you tell us about your creative process? How did your work come about? How long does it take you to create a piece? When do you know it’s finished?

My creative process is divided into two parts: the first involves research and idea/image development; the second is the actual creation of the work.
The research phase is part of my everyday life, constantly running in the background. I might be reading, walking, or about to go to sleep when suddenly an idea strikes. I write it down, take a photo, or make a 3D scan. Over time, this creates a personal library of texts, 3D scans, and photographs. Sometimes it takes a while for an idea to take shape as an image, other times it happens instantly. The “La plage privée” series, for instance, was born from 3D scans I made on a beach in Turkey, during my exciting move to France. I started working on the series immediately. It was different with the dog series. It was created in Paris in 2024, but the first image came years earlier. We were teaching our little boy to swim and had left a float ring on the beach. A local stray dog grabbed it and, of course, bit into it right away. Some time later, while reflecting on the themes of safety, escaping the system, and fragility, that image returned to me, and everything clicked. Then I begin to see many possible solutions—that’s a really exciting and energizing moment. When do I know a piece is finished? It’s like with coffee. You slowly and pleasantly sip it from a cup, and then suddenly you look down and realize it’s gone.

Who are your favorite artists? Which ones inspire you?

My preferences shift over time. It’s often happened that I didn’t appreciate an artist’s work initially, but later found great value in it. Here are some who come to mind and are important to me right now. They’re all very different.
First, in a category of his own, is Leonardo da Vinci. Then Botticelli, Theophanes the Greek, and Rublev. Right now, I’m rediscovering Gauguin and Monet. I admire the virtuosity of Francis Bacon. I love some surrealists: Magritte, Tanguy.
There are also Soviet-era artists who are fundamental to me—Deyneka, Petrov-Vodkin, the brilliant Golopolosov, and many others. Among contemporary artists, I would mention Bill Viola, Antony Gormley, and Santiago Sierra. I follow Metahaven, Anna Uddenberg, Mariam Cahn, and about a dozen other contemporary artists with great interest. If we’re talking beyond the visual arts, I’d mention the director Romeo Castellucci. As for writers: Kafka, Marquez, Cortázar, and Dostoevsky.

THE ARTIST