My idea for the painting was born
of rage and fear. On February 24th the Russian Army crossed the
Ukraine border and attempted to slaughter its way to the Capital Kiev. Just a
day earlier our daughter, son-in Law and five-year-old granddaughter had been
living their lives like any other young ambitious family in a free European
City. Natasha dropping Yeva to Kindergarten before meeting girlfriends for
coffee and gossip and Evgeni heading to his office where he works in the Tech
industry. Today they had woken up to air raid sirens, and incoming shells and
missiles.
Our family would remain trapped
in Kiev over the coming weeks spending most of their time sheltering
underground in the basement car park of their apartment building. Incredibly,
we retained communication throughout and we spent hours with them in their
shelter on video calls trying hard to persuade Yeva it was just a game. Not
easy with sirens and sounds of distance explosions invading their sanctuary.
Whilst I wanted to scream my
horror at what was unfolding in our lives as an artist the anger quickly
channeled into protest through creativity. The project became a sanctuary of distraction
from the terrors in my imagination of what could unfold. The concept slowly
evolved from a fleeting idea to a plan and then day by day I sourced and fixed
3600 small skulls to a 48’’ x 48’’ frame.
Over the coming weeks I began to
paint the skulls one by one, slowly raising an image form the rows and columns
of skulls. During this time, events were moving quickly on the ground in Kiev
and the Russian army, in fierce battle with the incredibly resilient Ukraine
soldiers were advancing towards the city and had already captured many of the
outlying towns. With little food or fuel Evjeni decided that staying put was no
longer an option and they decided to make a run for the relative safety of
Lviv, which is just an hour from the Polish Border.
The next 18 hours was probably
the longest of our lives. Lyudmilla (my wife) and I had no sleep that night as
we monitored every step of their journey. Miraculously they managed to secure
fuel and by sticking to the backroads managed to avoid bombed out bridges and
check points and arrived safely to Lviv. They managed another 4 weeks together as
a family in Lviv but the impact of a hypersonic bomb hitting a military base on
the outskirts forced the inevitable decision and Natasha and Yeva distraught,
bordered the bus and waved goodbye to Pappa. Ninety minutes later they were
across the border and on to Krakoff where Lyudmilla had flown out to meet them.
Two days later they were in the safety of our home in Dubai and Evjeni made his
way back to Kiev.
Each painted skull marked every
painful step of this journey and the portrait within the skulls was beginning
to take shape. The news of the horrors that were being unleashed onto the
Ukrainian people was coming to light as the Ukrainian army pushed the Russians
back from Kiev. The newly liberated towns revealed unimaginable brutality and
savagery. Then the horrors of the siege of Mariupol where a whole city was shelled
to ashes. A mass genocide of innocents, hated simply because of their desire
for freedom. Then amidst this horror the revelation of the bombing of the
Mariupol theatre. The security forces had marked a huge sign saying ‘children’
on the ground so it could be clearly seen by the Russian jets. It is estimated
that more than 600 children and women were sheltering, hoping for the humanity
of the pilots. They had none and they bombed it anyway, burying them all under
tons of rubble. I had my title for the artwork, my protest at this invasion, but
now more importantly to remember the death of ‘The Children of Mariupol’.
