The Future of Art is an interview series where I speak with artists on the topics of sustainability and climate change in relation to their artistic practices. The series aims to explore a range of viewpoints, not only those of artists working directly with these topics but also how it affects the practices of all artists, no matter their chosen themes or mediums.
Our next artist is Katya Fialka. Katya Fialka was born in Moscow, Russia, and grew up in New York City. She practiced looking and drawing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Randy Williams and studied painting at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, NY. Katya lives and works in Berlin.

Grazing, graphite on paper, 70 cm x 100 cm, 2013
Tell us about your art. What do you create and why?
I make drawings, paintings, and things in between. My work has been described as “dystopian landscapes”: broken highways with crumbling bridges, burning fields, factories abandoned to nature, floods.
I have a lot of interests; some of them are things I find wondrous (like how trees communicate with each other) and some are things I find infuriating or frightening (like mass surveillance, or the climate emergency). Often these topics make it into my work.

Airport, graphite on paper, 60 cm x 112 cm, 2012
How long have you been practicing as an artist?
I have been drawing since I can remember. I don’t remember a division between “I’m making a drawing” and “Now I’m a practicing artist.” I have been making stuff the whole time all the same.

Dome, acrylic and graphite on paper, 50 cm x 65 cm, 2019
Was there a certain point in time that you became more aware/self-conscious of climate change/sustainability issues?
I was aware of these issues since I was a kid. Global warming and the hole in the ozone layer were in the news back then, and people were talking about greenhouse gases and CFCs. Even back then I worried about rainforest destruction, made drawings of us kids coughing in clouds of air pollution, wrote letters to the President, things like that.
In recent years I read ever increasing reports by climate and conservation scientists, and it is fucking frightening. Terrified by what I was reading and frustrated by political inaction, I decided to become more involved in climate activism.
How have the topics of climate change and/or sustainability affected your artistic practice either directly or indirectly?
I usually work intuitively. While there are definite themes and interests, I don’t know what the final result of a piece will be when I start. I like being surprised by what I’m making. That said, the catastrophic effects of climate heating have been a thread through much of my work for years.
In the current series I’m working on, Flooding, the climate crisis was the conscious starting point.

Flooding, one, acrylic and graphite on canvas, 100 cm x 220 cm, 2019

Flooding, two, acrylic and graphite on canvas, 100 cm x 220 cm, 2019
Have you reduced your carbon footprint in your professional practice in any way over the last few years?
I like working with basic artistic materials; the materials I used as a child: pencil, paper, ink, acrylics, etc. I stopped using oil paints and solvents a long time ago, for health and environmental reasons. I like the challenge of making something interesting from just pencil on some paper.

Untitled (from the Landscape Surveillance series), ink and graphite on paper 50 cm x 65 cm 2018
Do you think artists have a responsibility to respond to these issues?
In our personal lives, I think yes. This is an emergency and we need to put pressure on our leaders to act, literally right now.
But do artists have a responsibility to address these issues in their artwork? Thematically at least, definitely not. I was born in the Soviet Union, so that may be why I’m very wary of any prescriptions about what artists ‘should’ be making or doing.
Art, on its own, ends up sparking conversations about a huge range of topics, and pushes people to confront things that they maybe otherwise wouldn’t. It shows us different ways of seeing and thinking. Art is mysterious, ambiguous, uncomfortable; it makes us question our certainty.

Untitled, ink, graphite, acrylic on paper, 2018

North, graphite, conte crayon, chalk 2.5m x 4.5m 2013

South, Graphite, conte crayon, chalk 2.5m x 4.5m 2013





