Galina Krasskova is a Hudson Valley based artist and photographer. As a photographer, she prefers to experiment 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. Her work is vibrant, evocative, and raw.
If you are interested in purchasing any of the pieces in the gallery, please contact Ms. Krasskova at krasskova at gmail.com.
Photo by Mary Ann Glass.
“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
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. When I sit down to draw, or stand at my easel to paint, I”m taking part in an expression of reverence that goes back to the neolithic. I’m joining 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 for me 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, my job as an artist is to serve the flow of that creativity into and upon my 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. The first quarter of my life was spent chasing its shadow through the brutal discipline of ballet. I think perhaps that’s why it is the figure that attracts me the most as a painter. For me, the body has always been first and foremost a conduit for that vital current, that force of creative expression. When I paint a a woman dancing, or a nude, or a seated figure, I can feel in my 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 my art. It is a reminder that I am 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. I am taking my part in a lineage.
In the end, it is the frenzy of a Dionysian bacchante that I seek in my 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. My art is eating fire, an ongoing bacchanalia and for that, I am grateful.