Ekaterina Bobrova

You began your creative journey with traditional embroidery at the age of 11. How did this early passion shape your artistic identity today?

I began my creative journey with a fascination for traditional embroidery. This early passion now allows me to freely combine various mixed techniques within embroidery, giving my hand a sense of freedom. I can embroider in cross-stitch, satin stitch, with ribbons, and with sequins. In a free form, I am able to merge all these techniques into a single work. Yet embroidery is not just about mastering certain methods and stitches—it is also about the ability to “read” ornaments and understand the deeper meanings of the images. Embroidery traditions of each people reflect both their history and the mutual influence of many cultures that met across the vast territory of Russia.

The oldest “language” shared by all peoples can be considered the ornament. Schematic (and sometimes not so schematic) images existed long before the appearance of writing. To understand the meaning of ornaments, one must dive deep into the past, into the times of paganism. In ancient Russia, many tribes lived side by side. Sometimes they were neighbors, sometimes separated by great distances, but the world around them was one in its manifestations. The surrounding nature, ways of obtaining food, and everyday life of ancient tribes pushed our ancestors toward creating their own vision of the world.

The Tree of Life growing from the underworld, gods commanding the celestial fire, Mother Earth granting life—these symbols were present in nearly every culture. The first ornaments, it seems, appeared when humans wanted to pass on their knowledge of the surrounding world. That is how solar symbols, signs of water, sky, moon, and others emerged. Ornament is not merely a collection of individual symbols—it is a kind of interpretation of the rituals that existed at the time. This perception of embroidery makes it possible to “paint” with threads without relying on patterns, creating entirely new, unique, and incomparable works.

My early passion for embroidery gave me the opportunity to master different techniques, solidify them, and, a little later, step away from rigid patterns. It allowed me to form an inner understanding of how ornament looks and how it is created. At first, I worked on the simplest pieces, following pre-designed patterns. Over time, however, I began to feel that these patterns limited me. At a certain point, once I reached a particular level of mastery, I was able to move beyond them and start creating my own original designs. This discovery of freedom in creativity is extremely important for any artist.

Ekaterina Bobrova | Cosmic Blue | 2025

Your works often combine painting with embroidered elements. What do you think embroidery brings into painting that other techniques cannot?

I often combine embroidery with painting. At first, I would simply add some embroidered elements—like a sign, a kind of concentration of the idea embedded within the painting. Over time, I moved away from that style; now I try to integrate embroidery directly into the canvas. Threads, unlike paint, have a completely different texture—they are more tactile, raised, and they create a certain warmth. They make the painting feel very alive, something you want to touch and sense. If you look at works with textured embroidery, they appear completely different. Mixing paints with threads, beads, and ribbons allows me to create a one-of-a-kind pattern, to freely shape a unique art object without thinking about any limitations.

Ekaterina Bobrova | Jewelry Set Baba Yaga

In your artistic path, you also work in the library and have a background in philology and literary studies. How does your academic experience influence your art?

Let me begin with my scholarly work. After studying at the Philological Faculty of Minin University, I entered postgraduate school, successfully completed it, and wrote my dissertation. The dissertation explored a fascinating and complex topic, dealing with mythopoetic imagery and archetypes, as well as the work of the Silver Age poetess Elizaveta Yuryevna Kuzmina-Karavaeva (Mother Maria). Mythopoetics opens the way to studying a very intriguing layer in both literature and psychology, allowing one to explore how archetypes are closely interwoven with artistic creation. As a poet or artist, one can easily transform traditional archetypal images into an entirely new perception of them.

The artistic and historical fabric of the Silver Age is multilayered and contradictory: it intertwined numerous literary movements, individual unconventional styles, refined aestheticism, and profound religiosity; a paradoxical combination of the old and the new, the fading and the emerging. These years were marked by an exceptional intensity of passions, beliefs, and illusions, as well as a strong subjectivism tied to the author’s desire to proclaim their “word” in this polyphony and to express their vision of reality. Out of these contrasts arose a harmony of opposites and contradictions—the hallmark of the Russian Renaissance, with its common essence and guiding principle: the striving for synthesis.

Important features of this artistic period included the acute question of the meaning of human existence in the world, the pursuit of a worldview synthesis that shaped a rich symbolic density, and the revival of mythmaking as a cultural force. N. Berdyaev wrote that “Russian literature is Renaissance in spirit. We create out of grief and suffering.” Yet the models of perceiving reality embodied in the mythopoetic motifs of the Silver Age works reveal a subjective view of the world, one that was unique to each remarkable artist at the turn of the century.

Such an artist was E. Y. Kuzmina-Karavaeva (Pilenko, Skobtsova, Mother Maria). On one hand, she was a typical representative of the Silver Age: in her personal fate (noble background, excellent education, fascination with modernism, emigration) and in her multifaceted creativity (poet, painter, publicist, critic, philosopher), she reflected traits common to many of her contemporaries. On the other hand, her destiny was extraordinary, vivid, and perhaps even contradictory. Her life and work combined deep religiosity with rebellion and humility, a constant search for her own creative and spiritual path.

Studying this is deeply engaging. You immerse yourself, you live through it, and at some point, you begin to feel that your perception of the world is unique and original. The task is simply to find ways to embody it—whether through painting, poetry, dance—it does not matter. What matters is discovering your own style. While I was studying the work of Elizaveta Yuryevna Kuzmina-Karavaeva—who was not only a remarkable painter and poetess but also an exquisite embroiderer—I found many points of connection. At that time, however, I was not engaged in painting, and I often said that although we were very much alike, she was an artist and I was not. Today I can say that I, too, have become an artist, and I am very glad for that. In a sense, Elizaveta Yuryevna became a motivator for me to take the step toward painting and artistic perception.

For many years, I have worked at the Nizhny Novgorod Regional Scientific Universal Library named after Lenin. This is the main library of Nizhny Novgorod, with an enormous collection of scientific literature and book monuments. Working there has allowed me to study a vast body of literature, which greatly supported me in writing my dissertation on one hand, and on the other—it gave me the realization that creativity—whether painting, poetry, or any other form—is not just a way to express oneself, but a way to understand that you are part of something larger, something shared. You can say your word to the world, leave your trace, but this requires tremendous dedication: working diligently on technique, on style, reflecting deeply, and creating tirelessly.

Ekaterina Bobrova | Rose Jewelry Set | 2025

Many of your works include symbolic imagery—eyes, masks, cosmic motifs, and fairy-tale references. Could you explain the symbolism behind them?

My fascination with symbolic imagery began when I immersed myself in the history of traditional embroidery and in the works of the poets of the Silver Age, where symbols permeate everything.

The artists and poets of the Silver Age often “embedded” images of mythological origin into their creations, which fostered a return to myth and an increased interest in the mythologization of the philosophical, cultural, and social processes of that era. Authorial myth-making became a principle of Russian literature at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, a unique part of spiritual existence. Myth attracted writers not merely as source material, but as a “recollection <…> of cosmic mystery” [Vyach. Ivanov], a “transmutation <…> of historical images into something immanent” [Andrei Bely], the ancient myth being “remembered as in the prophetic memory of dreams” [Dmitry Merezhkovsky].

The “flow” of myth into literature and art took place, on the one hand, through the revival of ancient mythology, and on the other, through neomythologism. Neomythologism is understood as the creation of a “second poetic reality,” when a work acquires the qualities of a “myth-text.”

Mythopoetic imagery in any work is represented through conceptual images, a system of motifs, leitmotifs, and mythologemes, which record and designate the subtlest features. It is achieved by combining symbolic and concrete images through a special memory that refers to something else, emphasizing nuances (shades, details, particulars) of something general and well-known, not requiring special mention.

It is enough to recall the works of the Symbolists, Acmeists, and Futurists, where the symbol and the archetype became the object of study for many creative individuals, becoming a kind of instrument of creativity.

I truly have many symbolic images, as has been rightly noted—eyes, masks, the cosmos. I would call them esoteric symbols. Concealing one’s face (putting on a mask) compels the viewer to peer into the mysterious image in order to recognize the hero—this is the theme of many of my paintings. Within the framework of Christian teaching, Pavel Florensky considered the face: “the face is what we see,” “the countenance is the manifestation of ontology,” whereas the opposite of the countenance is the mask. The author’s concept is tied to the possibility of recognizing the one who hides behind the masked image, as well as the search for one’s true countenance among various masks, disguises, doubles, and shadows. But how can one see without eyes and a gaze? The eyes reflect the inner light of the soul. “The lamp of the body is the eye. If your eye is pure, your whole body will be full of light…” [Matt. 6:22; Luke 11:34].

As for the fairy-tale references, I greatly enjoy the lubok technique. I especially like working in the style of fairy-tale illustrations, because they contain our traditions. Traditional archetypes can reach the heart of any person who has grown up with these images, since all of us as children heard Russian folk tales read by our grandmothers and lullabies sung by our mothers. All these images and motifs we understand perfectly on a subconscious level. We absorb them with our mother’s milk. Fairy-tale imagery allows thoughts to be expressed, on the one hand, very simply—especially in the lubok style—and on the other hand, it allows one to disguise very complex ideas that make the viewer seriously reflect on what the artist wished to convey, to extract something from their own mind and heart, to look within, to search for understanding.

It must be said that every person will form their own perception of a painting; sometimes their interpretation may diverge from the author’s intent. But the essence of creativity lies precisely in this: to evoke in a person a stream of thoughts, empathy or rejection, emotion and reflection. Only then is art truly alive.

Ekaterina Bobrova | The High Priest

You are also passionate about photography. Do you see photography as a separate practice or as something that complements your textile and painting works?

Yes, I am truly passionate about photography. At first, I thought it was a completely separate practice, one that allowed me to express a particular idea through an image, to convey a certain vision—or rather, my perception of it—and to share my thoughts with the world. Later, I realized that photography is actually a continuation of my artistic practice. My fascination with fine art photography helped me understand that a photo artist can also share their own vision and perception of both reality and imaginary, artistic images. Photography allows me to reveal the inner world of an artist through the lens, letting the viewer see the world through my eyes. And it doesn’t matter what kind of photograph it is. You might notice a small detail that captivates you, recognize its beauty, capture it, and share it. Some may say, “Oh my God, what a trivial thing she’s photographing!”, while others—like the photographer—will see in it a fragment of beauty, a piece of the artist’s soul.

As for photographs based on imagery—which I also create myself, since it’s hard to find something suitable in the mass market—I currently have the idea to create photo cosplay based on my own paintings. This would be a dialogue between the artist and the self. I’ve already taken the first steps in this direction, and I hope that this project will succeed, allowing me to establish a unique dialogue between myself as an artist and myself as a photographer.

Ekaterina Bobrova | The Royal Game

Travel and museums inspire you a lot. Could you share one memorable trip or exhibition that had a strong impact on your creativity?

Yes, indeed, traveling and visiting museums are a tremendous source of inspiration for me.

The most powerful impression and influence on my work came from visiting the Gorgippia Museum in Anapa — more precisely, from the exhibition dedicated to the works of Mother Maria. I remember buying a ticket and entering the exhibition hall. The first thing I saw was a huge full-length photograph of Mother Maria in her monastic habit. At that time, I had just defended my dissertation, and I was still under the strong influence of both her work and the enormous effort I had put into my research. I recall bursting into tears, and the museum attendant could not understand for a long time what was happening to me.

Eventually, I calmed down and began carefully exploring the exhibition. That was when I saw with my own eyes the embroidery of Elizaveta Yurievna and her artistic works. In that moment, I realized that I wanted to live up to her level — to attempt to synthesize all my accumulated creative material, including in painting.

Ekaterina Bobrova | Windows Of Russia | 2025

Being part of over 100 exhibitions worldwide, what do you think is the most important message international audiences take from your art?

Why should an artist even take part in exhibitions? Many people ask me this question. Yes, it is a way of transmitting one’s creativity, yes, it is an opportunity to show viewers one’s inner world, one’s perception of reality, and the results of one’s work.

As for participating in international exhibitions, especially in other countries, it is a chance to enter into a dialogue with viewers of another nationality and to see from the outside how symbolic, archetypal images familiar to locals are perceived by a person of a different faith or nationality, and what emotions they evoke. In fact, archetypal images are to a large extent universal in the world; indeed, there are global artistic symbols that are perceived more or less the same way by people on this planet. Of course, there are differences, there are variations, but still these images make it possible to establish a dialogue with the viewer and to be understood. Common mythopoetic images, which are perceived almost identically, allow us to understand one another despite our differences.

For me, participating in exhibitions, especially international ones, is an opportunity to enter into a dialogue with the viewer, to broadcast Russian art, Russian style, and to convey Russian identity to the audience. Today, this is very important. We are all people of one Universe; we must all understand each other and live in peace and dialogue—both with ourselves and with one another.