Fragmented Real Emotions——Imperfect in Unfamiliar Contexts

Jenya Datsko, born in 1991, is a Russian artist currently based in Valencia, Spain. She studied at the Valencia School of Arts and Technology (ESAT) and the GAIA Art Research Center, focusing on art and illustration. Her artistic practice explores the inner essence of contemporary women through female figures that go beyond individual identity. Her paintings express both solitude and melancholy, while also conveying mystery and allure. As part of the Corridor Foundation’s Young Artist Program, she is presenting her first solo exhibition in Asia, Her Unlocked Suitcase. During the exhibition, curator Jiin Xu (referred to as “J”) interviewed Datsko (referred to as “D”) to discuss her creative journey and the ideas behind the works on display, offering insight into the experiences that shape her art.



Personal Experience

J: How did you initially embark on the path of artistic creation?


D: I’ve been painting for as long as I can remember—ever since I was a child, it was something I always returned to, no matter what else I was doing. Even while I was following a different professional path, painting was always there in the background: I took classes, attended workshops, and kept it close.


But my journey as a full-time artist began about three years ago. I clearly remember the moment—the first painting that truly felt like mine. It came with a quiet but certain feeling: this is it. That’s when everything started to shift. I felt like I had found my voice and my style, and for the first time, I could really tell a story through my work.



J: We have learned that you used to create illustrations and digital illustrations. Could you elaborate on the motivations that led you to transition to canvas painting?


D: Yes, I used to create digital illustrations, and it was a wonderful experience. I really enjoyed working with that medium; it allowed me to explore ideas and develop a visual language in a very flexible way.

But at some point, I felt a strong desire to switch to traditional painting. I wanted to feel the brushes in my hands, to mix real colors, to work on large canvases—to have a more physical, tactile connection with the process.



J: What do you think has been the influence of traveling on your artistic creation? In addition to traveling, could you share other factors, experiences, or individuals that have significantly shaped your artistic practice?


D: Traveling, for me, is a way of discovering yourself by placing your body and mind in unfamiliar surroundings. It opens up a dialogue between the internal and the external—how you feel, respond, and shift when you’re in a place that doesn’t quite belong to you. These moments of displacement or wonder often echo in my work, which is very much rooted in personal emotion and introspection.

My art is focused on inner states—emotional landscapes, quiet transitions, and private moments. So while travel influences me deeply, it’s less about the places themselves and more about what they reveal in me.

Beyond travel, it’s my personal experiences that shape my work the most—relationships, shifts in identity, solitude, and subtle psychological changes. I often paint from that in-between space, where inner life meets the outer world.



Creative Themes

J: Could you share which artists or works have had a special impact on you, and what it is about them that truly inspires you?


D: I don’t think there’s a single artist or specific work that has influenced me most profoundly. For me, it’s always a combination of mood and place. I remember recently, while working in Tuscany, I visited the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. I had seen some of those paintings before—like works by Botticelli or Leonardo da Vinci—but this time, they resonated in a completely different way. The landscapes in their paintings felt so familiar, almost like part of my own surroundings. To see that same beauty and to be creating my own story in the same place—it was incredibly powerful. These moments really inspire me. And honestly, I also find deep inspiration in literature or music—it’s not only visual art that moves me like this.



J: What motivated you to choose female portraiture as your primary subject matter?


D: I think painting women came very naturally to me—it wasn’t a conscious decision at first, but something that grew from within. I paint from my own experience, and as a woman, I naturally explore themes that feel close to my life and inner world.


What’s meaningful to me is not just portraying women visually, but expressing emotional states that many women resonate with—moments of quiet strength, vulnerability, solitude, or subtle transformation. These inner experiences often go unseen, and I try to give them a form.


Of course, the emotional language in my work isn’t limited to women—it could speak to anyone. But through female figures, I can explore what I know intimately, and that gives the work a certain depth and honesty. It’s both personal and universal.



J: Do the female figures in your paintings take inspiration from your own features or those of people around you?


D: The women I paint aren’t direct portraits—not of myself, and not of others. But there’s always something personal in them. A feeling I’ve had. A moment I’ve lived through.


Sometimes they reflect people around me—their energy, their presence, something unspoken.


They’re a way to express what can’t always be said. And I think that’s why others often recognize something of themselves in the work, too.



J: What symbolic significance do you believe the female figures in your work embody? Additionally, what messages do you intend to communicate to the audience through these representations?


D: The women in my work often stand for quiet strength, internal contradictions, and the complexity of being seen and unseen at the same time. They don’t represent ideals—they represent moments. I’m not trying to deliver a clear message, but rather to hold space for introspection. I want the viewer to pause and project their own story. The women I paint aren’t symbols of perfection—they’re fragments of real emotion, often suspended in between decisions, identities, or places.



J: Recurring motifs such as flowers, wine glasses, and party scenes frequently appear in your works. How these elements first emerged in your artistic practice?


D: These elements came from my own experiences and memories. They are symbols of places and moments I’ve been connected to or left behind. Over time, they became part of my visual language—small signs that hold personal meaning and help me tell stories through my work.



J: In your earlier works, human figures or their fragments were always present, whereas your recent pieces feature more scenes devoid of figures, with a heightened narrative and continuity. What prompted this shift?


D: That shift came from a desire to explore space and story in a different way. Early on, I was very focused on the human figure as a direct expression of emotion and identity. But over time, I became more interested in the environment around the figures—the spaces, objects, and moments that carry their own stories.


Removing the figures opened up room for more subtle narratives and emotions to emerge.


This change felt natural as my work grew; I wanted to invite viewers to imagine and fill in the gaps, making the story more open and personal.



Technique and Materials

J: We’ve observed a notable transition in your choice of materials over the past three years, shifting from acrylic paints to oil paints. What factors have influenced this artistic shift? and what does it signify for your art practice?


D: I felt a quiet pull toward oil—mostly because of its depth, its weight. Acrylic gave me immediacy, but oil lets me stay longer in the painting. The colors live differently, and there’s space to return, adjust, rethink. It also just feels more natural for the kind of work I’m making now.



J: While you have adopted oil paint in your recent works, the layers remain light and not overly textured. Could you describe your painting process in detail?


D: Even though I’ve moved to oil, I still prefer working in one layer. There’s something honest about it —the form stays clear, the gesture remains visible. I like when the painting doesn’t feel overworked, when it holds a certain lightness. This way of working helps keep my language direct. It lets the figure breathe.


But lately, I feel like I might start exploring more layers— maybe staying with a painting a bit longer, letting it evolve more slowly. It’s something I’m curious about, and probably one of my goals moving forward.



J: Your works employ a rich and vibrant color palette, yet the hues are consistently harmonized. Could you elaborate on your approach to color selection and treatment?


D: When I start a painting, the colors and composition come to me almost all at once—I can already see the palette I want to use before I even begin. I’m not exactly sure how this forms; maybe it’s something unconscious, or perhaps it’s inspired by something I’ve seen around me. Sometimes it’s a feeling or a mood that guides me, and other times it’s simply my mind wandering to something else. Then I translate all of that into the painting. So, the process feels intuitive and a bit mysterious, but the colors always come naturally as part of that first vision.



Studio Practice

J: Could you describe a typical day in your studio, from arrival to completion of the work?


D: I usually start quite early—mornings are my favorite time to work. I have breakfast at home, then head to the studio, and on the way I always grab another coffee. When I arrive, I don’t jump in right away. I usually spend the first hour just looking—staring at the prepared canvas, thinking, feeling things out.


And then, gradually, I begin. Once I’m into it, I can work all day. If I’m really in it, I lose track of time completely—I even forget to eat. Sometimes I don’t need anything in the background, not even music—it’s just me and the painting. Other days, I like having music, or I put on a lecture or something just to have a voice in the room.


There’s this moment when everything else disappears, and I’m completely inside the work. I think that’s the moment I wait for.



Current Solo Exhibition in China

J: Could you please share any reflections or expectations regarding this exhibition in China?


D: I feel a quiet excitement about the exhibition in China. It’s quite emotional for me to imagine my work being seen so far from where it was created. There’s something moving about the idea that the feelings I put into the paintings might resonate with someone on the other side of the world—someone I’ve never met.


I don’t have specific expectations, but I hope the work reaches people in a personal way. Maybe they’ll see something I didn’t even notice myself. That unknown response—that space between what I paint and what someone else feels—is one of the most powerful parts of sharing art.



J: Was there a piece or a few pieces in this series that left a particularly strong impression during the creation?


D: Yes, there were definitely a few works that left a strong impression on me during their creation. One curious example is the pair of paintings titled May all dreams come true. The first one I painted two or three years ago, and it stayed in my studio for a long time. I never felt it fit into any of my previous shows—it was like it was waiting for something.


Then, recently, I created the second piece, the one with the broken chain, and suddenly everything clicked. It felt like these two works belonged together, like they were part of the same story all along. It reflected something personal—this moment of change, of stepping into a new chapter with new expectations and energy. It was as if the first painting had been quietly waiting for the second, just like sometimes in life, we’re waiting for something to shift, without knowing it.


And there are also the smaller paintings, like Far from home, where I tried to capture that impression of feeling disconnected, a little scared and anxious, like being in a place where you don’t quite belong yet. I really felt that while creating it—it wasn’t just a concept, it was something I was carrying inside me at the time. I just hope that feeling made it onto the canvas.



J: Do you anticipate that your visit to China this time will influence your future artistic production?


D: Definitely. I already know it will leave an impression on me. I create from experience, from what I see and feel, so even if it’s not immediate or intentional, I’m sure it will find its way into my work somehow—maybe through color, atmosphere, or even just a shift in perspective I won’t fully notice at first.


I’m really curious to observe, to absorb. I don’t want to force anything, but I’d love to explore this new visual and emotional language that might come from being in such a different place. Sometimes it takes time, but travel has a way of planting seeds that grow later, quietly, inside the paintings.


Edit:Sai Wang





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Fragmented Real Emotions——Imperfect in Unfamiliar Contexts