WORST ADVICE — Masha Reva

CH Masha, throughout an artist’s career, advice comes from many different directions: from teachers, peers, institutions, critics, but also from broader expectations about what an artist should be. Some advice can open new perspectives, while other advice can create limitations. Looking back at your own path, what role has advice played in shaping the way you approach your work today?

MR I was lucky to be born into a family of artists. Firstly, full support came from my dad, a sculptor, who taught me to be fearless when it comes to experimenting. Observing him building his independent practice was inspiring. However, accepting myself as an artist back then was scary. Later, during the time I devoted to studying fashion design, including graduating from the MA Fashion course at Central Saint Martins, I met my harshest mentor to date — Professor Louise Wilson. Louise literally broke me into pieces so I could later understand that I’m an artist. Fashion was just one of many things I wanted to explore. The critical sessions were something I had never experienced before CSM; they were hard to handle. However, later on, they became a base for building my confidence and part of my independent art practice. I’ve learned to question myself in very uncomfortable ways — this skill gave me the opportunity to become more independent. The nature of advice sometimes is about knowing the dark side of your lows — what is it that you can’t not be?

CH You told us that the worst piece of advice you have received came only recently and was about being “too explicit” — both in your personal style and in your artistic practice. You also said that there is quite a lot to unpack in this comment. What do you think this advice reveals about the expectations placed on artists today?

MR People pleasing is something I’m trying to avoid. Challenging opinions come as a part of the plan, almost like another test that examines the ground you’re standing on. As someone who experienced sexual abuse in my childhood, I’ve spent many years in order to be able to regain my power, finally accept my sexuality and talk about it all openly — that’s why my work is body-centred, where self-acceptance and diversity are celebrated. Every time I create something, it is an act of freeing another part of myself in order to expand the notion of strength, but also, by doing so, hopefully share it with others. Confidence doesn’t come in a day; it should be built with perseverance. It’s important to remember that advice that makes you smaller either comes from people with a lack of confidence of their own or people who want to challenge your beliefs to provoke you; the latter can sometimes be practical. It’s up to you whether you get hurt or fight back — in any case, keeping moving forward is important.

CH The idea of being “too explicit” touches on questions that are central to your practice: the body, identity, intimacy and self-expression. Do you think artists are still often encouraged to make their work easier to accept or more comfortable for others?

MR With the start of the full-scale war in Ukraine, my art practice has changed on many levels, with the notion of the collective taking up more space. I’ve come to the point where I can’t ignore the environment in which I’m actually creating; it’s an act of resistance itself — nourishing life where death is literally flying above your head. To some, my new chapter has become too heavy; for others, I’m not explicit enough. In my opinion, if the work isn’t fully honest, it simply won’t bring you to the new chapter of self-development; imitation is not something that earns you the work your soul should have done. That sometimes includes expressions that are not pleasant to the eye, so being honest isn’t always about being liked. The love of the audience is something that comes and goes, while the joy of the process is intimate; it won’t change its mind if you’re aligned with your instincts and work hard — this is also something my dad taught me when I was in my twenties. I like to play on my own terms and do respect others who have the courage to do so too.

CH Another common expectation in the art world is that artists should define themselves through one clear language or medium. Your practice has moved between drawing, painting, fashion and other forms of expression. Have you ever encountered the idea that you should focus on one direction, and how did you respond to it?

MR The only person who would have this kind of doubt would have always been myself. I’ve always been a little confused by how soon focusing on one medium makes me bored. From accepting myself as someone who has ten jobs, I gradually came to the understanding that each medium, in its own shape and form, is actually a part of the body of my art practice, where fashion is a language standing on the same level as monumental painting and so on, and is equally a tool of self-expression. Working across a number of disciplines sometimes gives me keys to very unexpected solutions and I quite enjoy it — to build a world which has different facets. This approach reminds me of a game I create for myself where every skill is a tool to surprise myself with and therefore get joy out of the process. More tools — more joy.

CH Before this interview, you mentioned that you are interested in the comfort zone as a space of contradiction. We often associate comfort with safety, but artistic development also requires uncertainty and change. What does leaving the comfort zone mean to you as an artist?

MR To be frank, I’ve always been a big fan of comfort, sometimes in quite hedonistic ways. No matter how much I love to chill, transformative experiences have always found me — to create a contradiction that gives space for re-examination of my inner state. There’s no creative movement forward when everything is too familiar, and there’s no movement at all if there’s no energy. In pre-war life, I would create challenges to get over myself to avoid stagnation; these days, war makes day-to-day existence pretty stressful, almost like the space of comfort and safety outside of your inner creative process doesn’t exist anymore. But the process itself isn’t always cosy, so sometimes you end up in a battle within a battle. The notion of safety in a wide sense is not available to everyone who lives and works in Ukraine right now, as I do. In other words, safety has become illusory and comfort is running inward; it becomes something not physical — it’s a bond with loved ones, it’s joy out of the process of creating, it’s something you cherish but can’t touch; or even if you can, there’s a chance of losing everything in a second. You learn to build a metaphorical stability within when the outside world becomes unstable. Living in war means you can’t regulate its brutality, you can only respond — a space where the artist is much needed. Giving myself permission to be whatever I want and celebrating others in their diversity is liberating; a sense of comfort within myself gives me energy to hold the pressure of reality.

CH You have continued to live and work in Ukraine throughout the full-scale invasion and have spoken about wanting to use opportunities like this interview to draw attention to what is happening there. Has this reality changed the questions you bring into your artistic practice?

MR I started to challenge my function as an artist — from creating rapid first reflections of my state to projects that include interaction with different communities and complex art direction. I’ve chosen to focus more on help and how I can turn my artworks into a real force supporting those who are fighting or have suffered from the consequences of war. From a charity exhibition with my husband, artist Ivan Grabko (Under The Open Sky, Berlin, May 2022), to fundraisers and later to a series of workshops and multimedia installations requested by UNICEF (You’ve Got a Letter, 2024, and Lighthouse, 2025), devoted to working with kids as one of the most unprotected groups. This practice gave me another multitasking experience I never thought I’d have, which definitely brought me to an understanding of the importance of making the moment we’re experiencing more bearable. Whether it’s a series of objects, the design of shop windows, a workshop with kids close to the frontline or a fashion collection, the notion of community has become more present. However, monitoring my inner state by periodically creating series of paintings is a mandatory reality check; this is when I gain energy and send a message outside.

CH You recently returned to fashion with your first collection in nine years after focusing primarily on your art practice. You have described fashion as something deeply political and documentary. What made returning to fashion feel meaningful at this point in your practice?

MR The idea of creating a fashion collection came to me during last winter in Kyiv, which was pretty challenging for everyone. The frequent absence of electricity, water and heating resulted from the deliberate targeting of our critical energy infrastructure by the Russian army, which caused shortages and cold days and nights when the only place you could get warm was the kitchen, thanks to gas stoves, or fireplaces if you were lucky enough to have one. In these conditions, I thought that I’ve always perceived fashion as a process of designing a certain type of shell that brings me joy, and I was willing to create a joyful project that doesn’t avoid the current reality. I wanted a multifunctional outcome — not only to cheer up everyone who would be wearing the collection but also to pack it as certain documentation of the moment we’re living in Kyiv, which is getting destroyed every day.

CH With Kyiv Люкс, you bring together garments and different forms of storytelling connected to your experience of living and working in Kyiv. What aspects of the city and everyday life became important when developing this project?

MR With the help of a portable scanner, I scanned different surfaces of the city and my personal and work spaces. I used all of these to create textile prints for the collection, which represent surfaces of life and the eclectic aesthetic of Kyiv. In this project, I worked with a long-term collaborator, Kyiv-based streetwear brand Syndicate, which acted as the collection’s production and distribution company. Baby Prod was hired for the creative direction and production of the campaign, as well as casting young creatives originally from different cities across Ukraine, including those that are currently destroyed or temporarily occupied. The campaign was shot by 21-year-old documentary war reporter Margarita Fal. To capture the project from one more angle, I designed a fundraising zine where my images related to the research appeared alongside campaign photographs by Margarita, backstage photographs by Oleg Batrakov, and interviews with our cast. The profits from the sales of the zine are directed to the unit of my close artist friend, who is serving in the Armed Forces of Ukraine. This multidisciplinary project aimed to give a platform to the young creative community in Ukraine, and at the same time, it celebrates the irony of Kyiv’s unique over-the-top style, which definitely has something to say about our spirit. The word «Люкс» is synonymous with luxury, but it is also a unit of illuminance.

CH Looking back at the advice you have received throughout your career, are there any ideas about being an artist that you had to actively unlearn?

MR Definitely, not to be influenced by the expectations and opinions of others, even if it comes to absolutely illogical decisions that come from my intuition.

CH We have spoken about the advice that can limit artists. But there are also words that can create confidence and freedom. What is the best advice you have ever received as an artist, and what advice would you give to someone who is just beginning?

MR The best advice came from my dad: always do the maximum possible — to have no regrets later. Throughout my career, I’ve learned that this maximum depends on many factors. I would say: work hard, but don’t ever forget that joy is a part of the process; self-care and health are always more important than any career ambition. Somehow you learn to balance those things, and that’s the key.