Ivan Marchuk is one of Ukraine’s most internationally recognized contemporary artists, whose biography stands as a testament to the confrontation between an artist and an imperial system.
Born in 1936 in the Ternopil region, he endured KGB surveillance, exhibition bans, and repeated refusals to join the Soviet Artists’ Union before achieving global recognition and holding solo exhibitions across continents. Soviet authorities denied Marchuk membership in the Artists’ Union three times. In 1984, his studio was searched, and for years he was barred from traveling abroad.
Only in the late 1980s, during “perestroika,” (restructuring of the political economy) did Marchuk leave the Soviet Union — first for Australia, and later for Canada and the US. In 2007, The Daily Telegraph included him in its list of the “100 Living Geniuses.”
Today, Marchuk’s work is among the most expensive of Ukraine’s living artists. In 2024, his landscape “The Moon Rose Over the Dnipro” sold at the Goldens auction for $300,000. Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, he has been living in Austria, where he has held several major exhibitions.
In conversation with KyivPost on the eve of his 90th birthday, Marchuk speaks about resilience of spirit, art as a form of consciousness, his father, and his homeland.
KyivPost (KP): Over your nine decades, you’ve witnessed the fall and rise of empires, regimes, and borders. What, in your view, is truly transient – and what is imperishable?
Ivan Marchuk (IM): The human soul is imperishable. And art is imperishable. For me, above all, art. There is much else that is imperishable too, in fact. But if we start listing everything, we’ll lose ourselves. Some things simply cannot be counted.
KP: The Soviet system tried to break you and failed. What, in your view, makes an artist unbreakable? Where does Ivan Marchuk’s strength come from?
IM: From strength of spirit. From stubbornness. From tenacity. From the desire to possess the world – people and space. And I succeeded. The entire planet knows Marchuk now. These little machines help with that today [gestures to his mobile phone] – they watch everything, everywhere.
That stubbornness has been with me since childhood. It didn’t appear later – it was there from the very beginning.
KP: Who gave you the first push toward becoming an artist?
IM: My father. He was very intelligent and extraordinarily talented – a master of all trades and a renowned weaver. He had only three years of Polish schooling, yet he was deeply wise, very religious and principled. People came to him as to a teacher, almost as to an apostle. To have such a father is a great fortune. When I began to take an interest in art, he encouraged me.
KP: How did Marchuk the professional artist come into being?
IM: In 1965, I graduated from the Lviv Institute of Applied Arts. I was assigned to a state job at the Kyiv Institute of Superhard Materials, which researched and produced synthetic diamonds. The system was simple: sit there for eight hours a day. I thought – I have all this time. What should I do? And I decided to draw.
I don’t know who guided me – I completely switched off consciousness. Only intuition worked. It was as if someone stood above me and guided my hand on small standard sheets of paper – the same kind used for typing. Every day I produced two or three drawings. They were graphic, black-and-white works – “early Marchuk.”
Everything all around was dominated by Soviet “collective art.” I set myself the task of being an “abnormal” artist and I began carving my own path.
KP: Was that when your legendary style began to form?
IM: Not a style – a consciousness. Style is how you do things. I have different ways of thinking. Fifteen different Marchuks. I dipped the pen and someone guided my hand. Where did it come from? Who invented it?
A colleague once saw my graphics and said, “You would illustrate the Bible very well.” I replied, “Why? I am writing my own Bible.” And that spirit — it is alive in every single sheet.
KP: How old were you when this crystallized?
IM: Twenty-eight. That’s when I truly committed myself to art. I worked a lot with publishing houses and Ukrainian literary journals. In five minutes, I could earn enough for a plane ticket to Lviv and back. I only flew – I didn’t know trains. Financial problems didn’t concern me at all and I valued time immensely. Since childhood, I have never been bored.
KP: You’ve seen a great deal in your lifetime. Where do you think humanity is heading today?
IM: Toward destruction.
KP: And does it have a chance?
IM: There is always a chance. [Smiles]. But it’s a thin one. A few weeks before the Chornobyl disaster, I painted the triptych “Monologue.” When I was working on it, I wasn’t thinking about Chornobyl. But the tragedy happened.
KP: You’ve worked on different continents, yet you’ve always painted Ukraine and about Ukraine. Why such devotion to the Ukrainian theme? What does Ukraine mean to you?
IM: Ukraine is my land. Period. I’ve never painted a foreign land. Not because it is worse, but because it is not mine. Ukraine is my home.
I may disagree with the systems that ruled – and still rule – over it, but I love the land. I am rooted in it. Ukraine, if governed wisely, would have ruled the world long ago. [Smiles.] Ukraine produces the highest number of talents per square meter in the world – that’s a fact.
And which of its talents has truly resonated in all the world’s capitals? There was the great singer Solomiya Krushelnytska, our great sculptor Oleksandr Archipenko. And then? I often compare Ukraine to a potted plant. What must you do for it to bloom? You must create the conditions for growth. The same is true for talent – it must be nurtured.
What do we see instead? Why do talents grow like mushrooms all over the world, but not here? Because in Ukraine, talent is neglected.
And yet, despite everything, I love Ukraine. Ukraine is my land. And the feeling of belonging to it never disappears.
KP: Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion, you’ve been living in Vienna. How do you perceive this city?
IM: I feel Vienna very deeply. Vienna smells of art and breathes art – you feel it at every step. It’s also a city designed for people. You can sit comfortably on a bench, drink clean water – everything is thought through so that a person doesn’t stumble and can feel at ease. People here are kind and welcoming.
After major exhibitions in Vienna, people recognize me and greet me in the park when I’m walking.
But… I am not at home.
KP: In the year of your 90th birthday, what advice would you give to your 25-year-old self, knowing what lay ahead?
IM: Don’t waste time. Work even more. Because I am insatiable. [Smiles]. I would advise devoting even more time to creativity.
KP: What dreams do you still wish to fulfill?
IM: To preserve my paintings for Ukraine, so that they live. So that they serve people.
That is why in 2024, in Vienna, we established and officially registered the Ivan Marchuk Foundation – to preserve, promote, and eventually return the collection to Ukraine, when the time comes.