'When we started, it was like a desert here; nothing except women's magazines. Everything [in Ukraine] was screwed up; not bourgeois, not communist. Some people had no access to information and others were trapped in highly specialized niches. So we tried to be eclectic, to mix the high and low.'
content of Nash isn't simply stylized popcorn.
Nash, which means 'Ours' in Russian, provides a progressive, integrated and accessible presentation of art with a satiric bite, while avoiding the traps of commercialism.
Its very existence is freakish; since independence, Ukraine hasn't exactly excelled in pop culture. Most music, magazines and pop artifacts are imported from Russia or the West, and domestic spin-offs usually offer nothing but a pale imitation of these imports. Among the barren landscape of youth culture in Ukraine, Nash is an anomaly.
The fact that it's based in Dnipropetrovsk makes it even more extraordinary. That alone ought to be a crippling factor. There is, after all, nothing cool about DP. Base to heavy industry and political heavyweights, President Leonid Kuchma's hometown is a serious contender for Ukraine's least glamorous large city. It has never been known for an abundance of artists, a distinguished scene or anything even remotely cultural.
So, what gives?
Igor Nikolayenko, Nash's wiry art director and head designer, says that the editorial staff's awareness of this vacuum is exactly what makes Nash such a unique product.
'When we started, it was like a desert here; nothing except women's magazines,' Nikolayenko recalled. 'Everything [in Ukraine] was screwed up; not bourgeois, not communist. Some people had no access to information and others were trapped in highly specialized niches. So we tried to be eclectic, to mix the high and low.'
The result was Nash, a magazine targeted at stylish 18 to 30 year olds. The line between high and low is constantly blurred, with contributors' work being everything from co-opted advertisements and cheap jokes about marijuana to sophisticated social satire.
In the May issue, for example, a single page called Objects combined a fake Absolut vodka ad that could easily be misconstrued as genuine, several ad parodies and a nearly pornographic photograph of a pepper entitled 'Erotic Bulgarian Pepper.' Each piece had a different designer and a distinctive style. Such non-sequitors crisscross the pages of Nash with the only link being a commitment to displaying contemporary design concepts.
According to Nikolayenko, the design half of Nash is simply a mirror of what is happening these days in Ukraine's creative community. 'I wouldn't call it an 'art' magazine, but we provide an outlet for the adrenaline in this country,' he said. His manic gestures and voice seem to contradict that statement; they imply that Nash is more like a conduit for energy.
The transitions between contributed art, Nikolayenko's layout and the articles are seamless. The friendship between the editors and designers no doubt contribute to this, and they constantly work together generating ideas.
Nash is produced by three designers and three editors. The thick, sometimes-monthly, sometimes-bimonthly magazine. The lion's share of the work is handled by Nikolayenko and editors Dmitri Pribytko and Max Sheviov. Conversations with them constantly turn to ideas for the upcoming issue and, although the magazine's title implies a collective, really it is the brainchild of these three.
They frequently travel to Kyiv, Kharkiv and Moscow – the three cities that supply most of the magazine's material – to dig up artists and stories. Nash's location in Dnipropetrovsk means that constant shuttling is inevitable.
Pribytko, whose laid-back manner is the opposite pole of Nikolayenko's joltiness, admitted that DP was an unlikely location for such a journal, and it would be a better fit for a cultural center. 'But, the confluence of ideas and money happened here,' Pribytko said. 'While Kharkiv has lots of talent, nobody there could bankroll a project like this.'
The shuttling takes its toll. Nikolayenko said that during an average trip to Kyiv, he finds himself meeting with up to 20 artists a day.
'And, of course, they all want to drink with you,' Nikolayenko lamented. 'I have to start the day with 100 grams, just to prepare myself for the onslaught.'
Their manic, unrelenting search for quality art and design has helped make Nash well known in certain circles. Currently, Nash is distributed in Ukraine's five largest cities, and the next issue will go on sale in St. Petersburg, countering Ukraine's trend of importing culture. It has a circulation of 25,000.
However, even as it expands into Russia and relies on Moscow-based artists and journalists, Nash remains a mostly Ukrainian affair. In Moscow, most contributors are Ukrainian diaspora.
'It's all underground,' Nikolayenko said. 'Before we get a hold of them, many [contributors] never showed their work beyond a group of 10 friends.'
Nash does pay for art, but the journalists are paid. Ironically, few would deny that Nash's design and art are far superior to the Russian-language articles that are published. 'We have a real problem with articles,' Nikolayenko said. 'At this point, visual culture here is much stronger than written.'
Pribytko said at first the editors thought it was simply a problem because they were based in DP. 'But when we received articles from Kyiv and Moscow, turns out those journalists aren't any better,' he said.
While the often-weak writing clearly upsets them, neither is deluded about why people buy Nash. 'These days when people want info, they turn on the TV or radio,' Pribytko said. 'Nobody reads. Many of our readers don't read a thing beyond our title.'
That statement was confirmed by Roman Tertychniy, a twenty-something Kyivan and Nash fan. 'It's easily the most progressive journal in Ukraine,' he said. 'But as interesting as it is to look at, I can't stand most of the articles.'
The editors hope that, as the magazine matures, Nash will assemble a quality group of writers. The flexibility allowed (aside from the publisher's request to stay away from politics, they can print whatever they see fit) would seem to encourage good writing. But so far the articles and short stories often fail to achieve the level of sophistication apparent in the design.
Anton Bukhman, Nash's publisher, doesn't seem too concerned about any current weak spots. He said that the editors don't consult him about the majority of the material, and he trusts that they will improve the quality in time. 'I picked a team that can handle it themselves,' he said.
Ultimately, Bukhman is concerned with the bottom line. 'I didn't dream about this magazine since I was a kid; it's not like the way some kids want to be astronauts,' he said. 'I want to make money.'
However, Bukhman understands that by giving his employees a free hand to pursue their vision for Nash, the product will ultimately be superior.
The staff evidently enjoys that freedom and have a unified idea for the direction they want to take. 'From '86 on, our heads had been filled first with culture, then politics, then sex,' Nikolayenko said, summing up the general attitude of Nash's editorial about the magazine's role. 'Now, we need to replace all that with new propaganda. Our twin goals are to provoke and be absurd.'
