"70% of artists are blacklisted." Artist Siarhei Hrynevich after Venice triumph tells about years of silence and the world he found himself in

Self-portrait of the artist Siarhei Hrynevich

In Venice, in an ancient church where this year's Belarusian exhibition "Official. Unofficial. Belarus" is held, visitors are greeted by a cross made of surveillance cameras, organ music, the smell of a village cemetery, books on a bulldozer bucket, and a story about control, fear, and unfreedom. The Belarusian pavilion became one of the most discussed at the Venice Biennale, although in Belarus many of its participants have long been under an unspoken ban.

One of them is Hrodna artist Siarhei Hrynevich. Just a few years ago, he held large solo exhibitions in Minsk, his works were bought by collectors, and the artist himself was called one of the most recognizable Belarusian creators. After 2020, his exhibitions began to be closed, his works — banned, and he himself, according to his own words, ended up "on all possible blacklists." Today Hrynevich lives between different countries, calls his emigration "a long creative business trip" and admits: all he dreams of now is to return home.

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Artist Siarhei Hrynevich (right) at the opening of the Venice Biennale. Photo provided by the exhibition organizers

We spoke with the artist about the Venice Biennale, bans, the Belarusian cultural system, artists who "closely followed" the state, and about paintings that turned out to be prophetic.

"I ended up on all possible blacklists"

"Nasha Niva": World media call the Belarusian exposition in Venice one of the strongest. What did you feel when you stood in the Italian church of San Giovanni next to your works and realized that in Belarus you are practically forbidden to exhibit?

Siarhei Hrynevich: I interpreted it as another exhibition. Of course, it's very prestigious — it's undoubtedly the biggest show in the world. But for me, it was important to feel part of the artistic process. I hadn't exhibited for a long time.

Ultimately, I am satisfied with my participation and how the project turned out. It turned out as the curators intended. We, the artists, were rather part of this work, helping to fill it with art.

"NN": Did you immediately agree to participate in this project?

SG: Immediately. This was last summer when I was first offered to participate. But I was sure that the application would not pass. In recent years, everything related to Belarus has been very difficult. And then suddenly it turned out that we passed the competitive selection. About 460 applications were submitted, and about 30 were selected, and we were among the first.

Well, once I agreed and found out we passed, there was no turning back. I'm that kind of person: if I promised something, I have to do my part of the work.

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Works by Siarhei Hrynevich at the Venice Biennale. Photo from the artist's archive

Everything that is in the exhibition was done literally in a month. Preparation began at the end of February: materials, stretchers, and so on. I started working in March, and already on April 9, we loaded everything into trucks. Two large trucks traveled from Warsaw to Venice. Everything was done in very tight deadlines.

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Virgin Mary. Work by Siarhei Hrynevich at the Venice Biennale

"NN": For many years you were one of the most recognizable Belarusian artists. In 2020, you said that you consciously chose a state of "internal emigration" for yourself to minimize contact with the state. When did you get the feeling that there was no longer a place for you as an artist in Belarus?

SG: The total ban began in 2022. I had a large solo exhibition in Minsk, at the Palace of Arts, right after the start of the war in Ukraine. A lot of people came.

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Large exhibition in Minsk. The last one. 2022. Photo: hero's archive

Initially, some of the works were banned even at the preparation stage. Then the exhibition was closed altogether — it only lasted a week.

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Large exhibition in Minsk. The last one. 2022. Photo: hero's archive

And after that, a complete ban began. I ended up on all possible blacklists. But I'm not the only one, I think 70% of artists today are on one list or another.

"NN": What did this mean for you in practice?

SG: It became impossible to exhibit in Belarus. Abroad — it's possible, but only something "safe." Such pictures for sale. But what really corresponded to me as an artist, it was dangerous to show. Because then returning to Belarus could become impossible.

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"Attack", 2023. Work by Siarhei Hrynevich

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And I worked a lot in the last four years. And it was "in vain" work. A lot remained there. I still hope that someday these works will be shown in Belarus. Because they would sound best precisely there.

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"NN": You say you couldn't show what you really wanted. What kind of works were they?

SG: These were things that reflected what was happening to us in recent years. But I deliberately made them with the thought that someday they would be shown in my homeland. I already have an exhibition practically ready — I just don't have the opportunity to open it. And the same applies to the Venice Biennale. This exposition would resonate most strongly precisely in Belarus.

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"Medical Examination", 2026. Work by Siarhei Hrynevich

"Degradation is felt everywhere"

"NN": Some people said: "Belarus is again shown through themes of violence, repression, and unfreedom." What would you say to that?

SG: There has long been such a discussion: that Belarusian art after 2020 supposedly became art of trauma and victimhood.

But, firstly, this theme is still relevant. And it's hard to say what is more relevant for Belarusians today.

Secondly, the theme of our exposition is not only about Belarus. It is generally about total surveillance, about the restriction of freedom in the modern digital world.

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Of course, I myself would like Belarusians to be concerned with more "normal" problems — ecology, gender equality, or something else. But today we have what we have.

And no one prevents others from holding exhibitions on other topics.

"NN": Do you feel anger towards the Belarusian system for literally driving artists, musicians, writers out of the country?

SG: More like disappointment. Culture in Belarus has long been heading towards this crisis. Degradation is felt everywhere — in music, pop music, visual arts.

Everything becomes very primitive and amateurish.

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Siarhei Hrynevich paints in his studio. Photo from the artist's archive

"NN": What is the hardest thing for an artist away from home today?

SG: Complete uncertainty. Now I'm in Cyprus because my Schengen visa is ending. Then, maybe, it will be Switzerland.

I just carry a suitcase of paints with me. I'll work. What else can I do?

I always believed that you should pursue your own projects, and then find exhibitions for them. That way you limit yourself less.

I didn't take anything out of Belarus. My studio, home, family — everything stayed there.

And I'm not yet allowing myself to think that this is forever.

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It was and…

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…became. Works for the church in Navahrudak

"I'm a humble person"

"NN": Mr. Siarhei, you are one of the few Belarusian artists whose works were bought for tens of thousands of dollars and are in collections. Did you feel like a star in the Belarusian context? And did this professional success affect your relationships with other Belarusian artists?

SG: Regarding tens of thousands of dollars — that happened, but very rarely. Those who know me in Belarus know: I've always had quite reasonable prices. And even a person who wasn't rich could buy my painting. I always met the buyer halfway.

I didn't feel any envy. I think my colleagues treated me normally too — you can ask everyone. Because I'm a humble person, simple. And I never refused to participate in exhibitions.

I never had a star illness. And now, thank God, I haven't caught it yet.

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"NN": Earning a living through art in Belarus is a challenging task. How have you managed to pursue only this profession and live off it your entire life?

SG: In Soviet times, by education, I was a monumental artist, working in an art combine. Everything there was very regulated: there was a state order, we fulfilled commissions from various enterprises — state, and then not only.

I made stained glass, murals, and so on — monumental work. There was even a queue for stained glass orders. Some of that still remains, thank God. Not everything was destroyed by "Euro-renovation."

Then, when state orders ceased, I took up easel painting. This was in the early 90s. I started going abroad, made acquaintances.

And all of this fully arrived in the 2000s, when the internet appeared and I could spread information about myself. New contacts began.

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I always just worked and did what I loved. And I advise both young and all artists to do what they love, so that their creativity is sincere to themselves. Then it's visible to the viewer, to the gallerist, and to the art critic. Falsity will always hold you back.

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"Road Accident", 2021

"NN": You said that you made murals and stained glass for state commissions. What was it? Figuratively speaking — did you paint workers?

SG: No. We often made stained glass in co-authorship with other artists. And we tried to avoid the Soviet style that was common in monumental art.

These were more formal explorations. I have a large cycle of stained glass dedicated to traditional Japanese design. So there wasn't any of that Soviet style there.

Murals were also more lyrical. We didn't paint politics. These were already the times of Perestroika, and both the art council and the clients were more or less favorably disposed to the formal creative searches of artists.

I fondly recall those times. Those were good times when everyone lived with hopes for change. Eventually, they came: Belarus became an independent country. But it all lasted only three years. Not long.

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"Thaw on the Neman", 2023

"I did not allow myself to work directly with the system"

"NN": In the 2000s, you started traveling abroad and made acquaintances. As far as I know, you had a patron in Switzerland?

SG: Yes. He bought my works and created conditions for me to work in Switzerland.

But parallel to this, when some buzz started, when information about me appeared on the internet, other people interested in my art also emerged.

There were many offers. There were also funny cases: galleries and art agents who had rejected me in the early 2000s later started renewing contact themselves.

It's natural. I didn't really do anything for it.

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"Feeding Venus", 2009

"NN": You said that Belarus was independent for three years — and everything dwindled. How has the attitude towards artists in the country changed over the years of independence? Especially after 2020?

SG: I haven't noticed any particular development in attitude.

After 2020, blacklists appeared, artists began to be denied exhibitions. Many planned exhibitions were cancelled.

The period from the early 90s to 2020 was varied. Contemporary art began to develop, various media appeared, private galleries.

Many artists started teaching. Those who didn't find themselves in creative expression went into teaching, because many courses, studios, and art schools appeared.

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"Minibus to Grodno"

But the attitude of society — I don't know. It was as it was. I didn't notice any particular development.

I can compare the attitude towards artists here and abroad. Abroad, an artist who earns a living from their profession is a very respected person. Even unique. Because many artists I know in the West don't earn a living from art: they work in other professions, even as taxi drivers.

When people there find out: "What, you live off art?" — their eyes pop out. It's quite rare. But here, in this sense, the situation might even be better.

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But the status of an artist who lives by their creativity is very high in the West. I saw this when I visited Switzerland.

"NN": You said that a Belarusian artist is almost always forced to seek a compromise between what they want to say and what they are allowed. Did you make such compromises?

SG: In Soviet times, it was different.

I served in the army — I painted Lenin. I also did portraits of general secretaries. Those were the times when they were dying one after another.

But I don't consider that a compromise. It was a normal situation for all artists of the Soviet Union. When money had to be earned at the combine, they made portraits for May 1st and November 7th: portraits of Politburo members, slogans, posters.

I don't know what to call it — conformism or not. It was a general situation.

And then I still tried to do what I wanted and not go against myself.

I will say firmly: recently, I no longer allowed myself to work on large state objects in Belarus. These included the library, the Palace of Independence, and the Museum of the Great Patriotic War, now the historical museum.

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The entire Union of Artists is largely geared towards this money allocated by the state. Artists try to survive somehow, working for the system.

But everyone decides personally. Can this be called conformism — I don't know. I, at least, did not allow myself to work directly with the system. I had enough means to survive without such cooperation.

And it's hard to pass judgment on those artists who participate in state commissions. People need to live. It's hard to blame them.

"NN": Did you feel disappointed in your colleagues after 2020?

SG: Yes.

After 2020, it turned out that some artists stood in close ranks in defense, so to speak, of universal values. Some people turned out to be weak. It was easier for them to go into total cooperation with the system.

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Work by Siarhei Hrynevich, 2020

This primarily concerns our artistic organizations. They became red and green. It's visible: go to the websites — and you'll see everything.

This is probably a way of survival, an attempt to preserve creative unions. Otherwise, the Union of Artists could have met the fate that previously befell the Union of Writers: either division or prohibition.

"NN": You yourself noted that everything that happened after 2020, you had already depicted on your canvases a decade ago. What are you painting or want to paint now? What future do you see for Belarus on your canvases?

SG: I cannot answer that question yet.

The question about creative plans is forbidden. I don't know yet what project I will do. I just haven't come up with it yet. And if I had, maybe I wouldn't voice it, so as not to jinx it.

As for the fact that I supposedly foresaw something… Some works were indeed such that people later marvelled at their creation years. For example, a painting was made in 2010 or 2015, and ten years later it became very relevant.

That happens. Because our life is cyclical — from election to election. Many things repeat.

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Exhibition in Vilnius, 2022

"NN": Can you name specifically which works you're talking about?

SG: I had an exhibition in Hrodna called "The Eighth Region." There was a car license plate with an eight on the poster. From spring 2025, Minsk began issuing license plates with the number "8" to denote the region. You could say I foresaw this ten years ago.

It was an exhibition about internal emigration. There was a large building, nine halls, and in each hall — a separate thematic project.

There were many works that I did back in 2010. I was in a deep depression after the elections then. And when I showed these works in 2020, they turned out to be very relevant. Because everything repeated itself — only on a much larger scale.

"NN": After 2020, Belarusian artists were scattered across different countries. They are experiencing different fates: some are in emigration, some remained in Belarus, some are adapting to the system or serving it. How to avoid mutual grievances? Is it possible to maintain some unity with those who remained in such positions?

SG: With those who are in Belarus and who are close to me in their views, relations have not changed. I feel a lot of support from people. And not just support — many people worry a lot about me, and I appreciate that.

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But with those who simply went against themselves and, so to speak, serve the regime — this was felt before, and I had no particular contacts with them. And now they are so limited that one can say: they don't exist at all.

I have no grievances. It is each person's personal choice.

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"NN": You say that you don't have any new project about Belarus yet. But still: is your outlook now more optimistic or pessimistic?

SG: I remain an optimist.

And at least for that reason, I am not yet doing anything to permanently settle somewhere outside Belarus. I still hope to eventually return home. That is the only thing I dream of now.

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Working in the studio

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