Memory is a shifting terrain, unstable and fluid. It wavers between what truly happened and what we long for in hindsight. More than a record of the past, it is a space where reality collides with desire, where what once was merges with what could have been. The moments we recall are shaped by longing, marked by loss, and distorted by history. They leave us grappling with fragments that refuse to settle.

Tkachenko’s paintings are deeply rooted in Mariupol, a city once vibrant and alive, now shattered by war and occupation. In his work, Mariupol exists as both a tangible place and a constructed memory — an anchor of his identity, irrevocably transformed. Tkachenko doesn’t simply mourn a lost home. Instead, he confronts the profound rupture of belonging to a place that no longer exists in its original form. This impossibility of return — both physical and emotional — saturates his practice. Each painting becomes an act of reckoning, a dialogue with what cannot be restored.

His canvases evoke fleeting sensations: a glance, an unspoken word, the quiet light of a childhood room. These are not precise memories but blurred impressions, suspended between recollection and dream. His work shifts between diary and dreamscape, probing the fragile realm where the past collides with the imagined. It creates a space filled with ambiguity and emotional depth.

The paintings hold the weight of displacement: the ache of separation, the fragility of remembering, and the resilience needed to keep moving. Through deeply personal imagery, Tkachenko weaves his grief into broader reflections on conflict. His art transforms into a space of resistance and contemplation. Even fragmented memories carry strength. They bear witness. They reclaim. They defy erasure.

– Petro Vladimirov