Contemporary art, especially in its postmodern manifestation, cannot be defined by a particular style; instead, it is an individual process. Existing within the current epoch, we can only vaguely realize what is happening to us, our time, and our emotions. The creative process no longer requires reflection, and this is remarkable. It appears that what the artist says is irrelevant as long as the mechanism of History keeps functioning. For some reason, humans no longer have to perceive themselves as part of the Universe; it is enough to simply remain a participant in the process of life.

Eduard Stranadko's work is like a pass to a different form of existence—one akin to a night dream. His characters wander along empty streets or linger in the agony of suspense, almost entirely deprived of joy, energy, or elegance. The figures on the photographic emulsion seem to possess a shadowy quality. They linger in the wind, full of air and consumed by space. Wary of self-preservation, they long to hide, to dissolve into the safety of dusk and sleep. The dull, fading light and mysterious shadows penetrate each other, absorbing people and houses alike, making them part of a sad, universal enigma.

Natalia SCARLATTI