Polina Sokolova’s oil paintings are to repressive socioeconomic-political systems what maggots are to apples. The works do not hesitate to collapse the distances between viewer and subject, yet that seems to be of little help, since the depicted spaces and objects remain inaccessible. Closed doors and drawers. Turned-away figures. A shot woodpecker. Wandering eyes. Venus truncated at her ankles. A tension persists between the hope for revelation and hopelessness generated by their harsh stillness. Simultaneously, being stuck in an elevator implies that one is already inside the building. So does the sight of shut cabinets in the archives. En passant, apples, one of the artist’s favored subjects, though untouched by insects or decay, are no source of comfort either. Contrary to expectation, it is their quiet perfection and attained stillness, evoking an almost lost memory, that brings out their uncanny quality. Sokolova’s apples become more actors than fruits. They are meant to be perceived, not eaten. When set against the artist’s signature metallic surfaces, they raise questions about contemporary legacy. Ultimately, the artist accomplishes something ambiguous: the claustrophobic, solitary spaces retain a certain intimacy. Even what is initially anonymous or devoid of individuality asserts itself as personal. Sokolova succeeds in sustaining attention on images dealing with repression and absence within a culture organized by the economy of attention that privileges spectacle and loudness. The recurring simplicity of the compositions serves as a reminder that an image requires a viewer, even if what remains visible is the desire to see itself. The paintress emphasizes that it is the closed doors that need to be looked at the most.
Iga Lapa · 16 June 2026 · Frankfurt am Main