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Born in 1998 in the Republic of Buryatia and currently based in St. Petersburg, Anatoly Alexeev works across painting, drawing, video, textiles, and object-based media. His interdisciplinary practice explores themes of instability, fragmentation, and anxiety—examining how we perceive and visually interpret the complexities of contemporary life.
Alexeev is particularly interested in the interplay between materiality, gesture, and repetition, treating the image as a container for fleeting, ambiguous experience. His work often draws on the layered distortions of everyday visual culture, where personal memory intersects with broader cultural systems and aesthetic structures.
Alongside his visual art, he also develops the ongoing project STENOSIS (STENO515), a hybrid platform where fashion, critical theory, and visual experimentation converge to question and reframe contemporary aesthetics.
Hi Anatoly! It’s a pleasure to sit down with you again! First question that I always ask. How does a regular day look like for you in Saint Petersburg?
Anatoly: My days usually start around 11 in the morning and go on until about 1 a.m. I work from a room in my apartment that I’ve turned into a studio — it’s a bit tight, but it works for now. In one corner I paint canvases and do drawings; the rest is taken up by sewing machines, fabrics, and design materials. I’m currently looking for a larger space where I can both work on big canvases and develop the brand more freely. I also divide my focus between visual art and my clothing brand, so part of the day might be sewing samples, editing designs, or just researching weird references online.
I’m curious, growing up, what kind of kid were you? What did you enjoy doing, and how did you spend your time?
Anatoly: I was a pretty calm and reserved kid. I had a couple of close friends and didn’t really go out much besides school. As I grew older, I started noticing that people around me changed — those I used to be close with sometimes changed quite drastically, becoming more aggressive or drifting away. I was always curious about how and why this happened.
Eventually, some of it ended badly. I’m from a small town, and I remember one kid I used to know ended up becoming a drug dealer. At one point, a SWAT team literally broke into his apartment through the window — rappelling down the side of the high-rise building from the roof. That moment stuck with me a lot and, I think, influenced how I see the world and my creative work.
Since childhood, I’ve been passionate about drawing — always reading books and collecting little things that caught my attention. My parents worked a lot, so I spent most of my time with my grandmother. My grandmother, Valentina, was a teacher. She taught me how to draw and was the one who encouraged me to think creatively and keep exploring the things I loved. I love her deeply and appreciate everything she gave me.
Do you remember aproximately at what age your creative side started to show? And when did you start taking being an artist seriously?
Anatoly: I think it started around the age of 10. I used to copy images of ‘cool tattoos’ from school notebook covers — that somehow gave me a push. I was copying things, inventing my own. But I started seeing myself as an artist later, closer to 20 — when I realized I simply couldn’t not do it.
Ok Anatoly, with these next series of questions, I will try to delve into your work as best as possible. So…. You work across painting, video, textiles, and objects. How do you choose which medium best suits a particular idea or project?
Anatoly: The idea itself suggests what it wants to become. Sometimes an image first appears as a print on a T-shirt, and later it mutates into a video. Other times, there’s just a physical urge to sew something by hand — and meaning grows out of that tactile need. It’s like listening to the material — it speaks.
Is there a material or medium that feels most intuitive or emotionally resonant for you?
Anatoly: Fabric. It holds warmth, memory, the trace of a body. I often work with already-used fragments — they carry the imprint of another time, and that creates a kind of vibration.
What role does gesture play in your practice? Do you see it as purely formal, or as something more embodied or expressive?
Anatoly: Gesture is a way of recording internal movement. I don’t think of it as something abstract — it usually comes from an inner impulse. It might be a sharp brushstroke, crumpled fabric, a crooked seam — they’re not random, even if they look impulsive. I often return to those spontaneous moments because there’s something true in them.
Are there any specific cultural symbols or narratives from your background that you’re drawn to or resist in your work?
Anatoly: I’m drawn to everything related to the cultural periphery — marginal images, forgotten visual codes. I often turn to symbols that aren’t usually seen as “art” — like a road sign, a logo, or graffiti on a fence. I try not to reproduce “cultural codes” directly; instead, I deconstruct them, distort them, and turn them into personal metaphors. Also, advertising clichés, food — for example, Orion Choco Pie (those tasty little cookies, especially when warmed up a bit in the microwave).
How do you approach visualizing or embodying something as intangible as anxiety?
Anatoly: Through breaks, interference, and fog. Through the mismatch of elements. Sometimes — through excessive detail, almost painfully so. It’s an attempt to capture what keeps slipping away.
Would you say your work is trying to make sense of chaos, or to reflect it as it is?
Anatoly: I’d say it’s more about capturing its pulse.
You talk about distortions and layers within everyday visual culture. Can you give an example of what kinds of images, moments, or media inspire you?
Anatoly: Random shots from old TV shows, vintage ads, store mannequins, Polaroids. Right now, I’m preparing an exhibition project based on exploitation cinema. Its working title is “While the Shadows Are Long” and includes about 30 works. I’ve watched a ton of films from the ’60s to ’90s — Jean Rollin, Scott Shaw, Ray Austin, Jesús Franco, Russ Meyer.
How does the visual overload of contemporary life—social media, advertising, surveillance—affect your aesthetic and conceptual approach?
Anatoly: I think of it like background radio that surrounds me.
Do you think art today should challenge our perception, or give us a moment of clarity?
Anatoly: Clarity can also be seen as a kind of distortion, just disguised as objectivity. I’m more drawn to the idea of a malfunction, an error, the trembling of an image. In my view, art doesn’t have to provide clarity — it’s often an illusion and can be just as distorted as chaos. What attracts me more are the disruptions, noise, and fractures in perception — it’s in those moments that something real and sincere can emerge.
You describe the image as a vessel for elusive or transient experience.. Can you walk me through your creative process from beginning to end result?
Anatoly: Often, it all begins with a thought or an image that gets stuck in my mind. Then I write it down, draw it by hand, sew. Sometimes the final piece ends up looking completely different from what I initially imagined.
Can you also tell me about your use of symbolism?
Anatoly: I have my own “icons”: Grim Reaper, the sly skull, inscriptions, vector girls. Often, these symbols lose their direct connection to meaning — the context fades, and it becomes increasingly difficult to build clear semantic links. It’s similar to how we perceive news and information today: in fragments, snippets, without the possibility to grasp the whole picture. These images become a kind of vocabulary of anxious everyday life. Sometimes I don’t fully understand myself why I use them — but I feel that they work.
How do you approach color?
Anatoly: Intuitively. I often start with dirty, swampy shades, then add some acid tones or, on the contrary, “mute” everything with gray.
So with what we just talked about, what are you hoping to convey?
Anatoly: I want to show what the inner world looks like in a state of blur. When you’re not sure if you’re asleep or awake. It’s an attempt to capture the fragility that people often feel ashamed of.
Alright Anatoly, When did you start showing an interest in design clothes, and what does fashion mean to you?
Anatoly: For me, clothing was a way of communication — not so much about style, but about language. As soon as I got interested, I immediately started making clothes; that was in 2017, and that’s how STENOSIS was born.
With that in mind…. Tell me about STENOSIS—how did it begin, and what inspired you to start it?
Anatoly: In 2017, I met my current best friend, the designer Shulya. He messaged me on Instagram because he liked one of my works — a small graphic piece. At that time, I was already drawing and posting my works online. We met in person, I gave him a drawing as a gift, and he suggested I try painting on clothes. That’s how the first STENOSIS pieces appeared, which were closer to art objects. The brand name came from Shulya’s younger brother’s illness (stenosis, or stricture), so clothing became a space for expression.
Back then, sitting in a small apartment on the outskirts of the small city of Kirov, looking out at the gray streets, the dirt of industrial areas, and the boredom of everyday life, we—18-year-olds—felt like the whole world was pressing on us with aggression and hatred, giving no chance for even a breath of fresh air. When we heard that word, we realized it was exactly what reflected the essence of our creative perspective and its main statement.
Naturally, over time and as we grew up, our philosophy and outlook on life changed. That rebellious teenager remains a symbol of the brand; he’s at the core of the ideas behind everything we do. It’s more like a reminder of our roots, why we started and for what purpose. To show ourselves where we come from and where we are going, and to prove that there’s always the right path—the one you choose yourself.
Ok Anatoly, now to something totally different. In a parallel universe who would you be? and what would you be doing?
Anatoly: Probably, I would be a truck driver. Or a paleontologist.
Outside of art, what’s something you’re obsessed with right now—maybe a hobby, a show, or even a food—that keeps you grounded or inspired?
Anatoly: I’m really into grilled meat these days, and love movies too — just watched seven-hour film Satanic Tango by Béla Tarr. Also like watching YouTube videos about homeless people and their stories. Reading Object-Oriented Ontology by Graham Harman. Since it’s summer, I’m just trying to get outside more, hang out with my wife and friends, and enjoy the good weather.
Can you tell me a story about a time when a connection with someone had a big impact on you?
Anatoly: Yes, it’s actually my friend, a designer and artist named Shulya. He’s a total extrovert, while I’m a complete introvert — we’re very different, but I think it works like yin and yang, or like a СatDog you know. Thanks to him, I’ve met a lot of people in my life. We work on the brand together. We’ve done all sorts of things over the years, but making money wasn’t really one of them. We’ve never compromised on our creativity or our approach to work. I’m really glad I met someone whose vision aligns so closely with mine.
What qualities do you find most important in the people you choose to spend time with?
Anatoly: Sincerity.
Anybody you look up to?
Anatoly: Not really, I’m more inspired by events and processes.
What motivates you?
Anatoly: Curiosity. I’m curious to see how the day will unfold if I just get up and start doing things.
How would you describe a perfect day?
Anatoly: Early morning light, drinking coffee with my wife, talking. In the studio, No one else around. Then a slow, relaxed walk. And no one calling.
Alright Anatoly, I always ask these two questions at the end of an interview. The first is. What’s your favorite movie(s) and why?
Anatoly: Probably right now it’s Dr. Caligari 1989, by director Steven Sajadjan. It really inspired me recently.
The second is. What song(s) are you currently listening to the most right now?
Anatoly: Whatever my friend Danil Metlast plays when he visits, or random stuff from Spotify. Sometimes some Black Kray or stoner , after that maybe Keiji Haino, then Waves by Mr. Probz, or Robin Schulz.