In an age where high-definition clarity dominates photography, Andrey Makalkin deliberately embraces distortion, digital noise, and soft focus to create an alternative visual language. Born in 1997 in the Moscow region, Makalkin’s journey began with a passion for photography and digital collages, leading him to study cinematography at VGIK, one of Russia’s most prestigious film schools. His artistic evolution took an unexpected turn as he fused his love for art history, painting, and experimental techniques to redefine contemporary photography.
Through series like "Unsettling Things", which explores childhood fears through an eerie yet poetic lens, and "Myths", where he reinterprets ancient narratives through fractured reflections and vibrant hues, Makalkin challenges our perception of reality. His works, shot on a mobile phone and meticulously altered in post-production, blur the line between photography and painting.
In this exclusive interview, we dive into Makalkin’s creative process, his fascination with imperfection, and the symbolic layers hidden within his work. How does he see digital noise as an expressive tool rather than a flaw? What myths does he believe deserve a contemporary visual revival? And if he could photograph an emotion rather than a subject, how would he bring it to life?
You merge digital noise with soft focus to create vibrant, painterly compositions. Do you see digital noise as a modern equivalent of the artist’s brushstroke, and what does it express in your work?
I like to joke that my photos look like a camera malfunction. But I love the idea of turning digital noise — something usually seen as a flaw — into a defining feature. If you compare it to painting, this technique somewhat resembles the pointillist brushstroke. Except here, the strokes are clusters of pixels.
Your ‘MYTHS’ series reinterprets classical narratives. If you could place a forgotten or lesser-known myth at the center of your photography, which one would it be, and how would you visualize it?
There’s a Greek myth I’ve been wanting to work with. The goddess of dawn, Eos, fell in love with a mortal named Tithonus. Captivated by his beauty, she begged Zeus to grant him immortality — but forgot to ask for eternal youth. For years, they lived happily, had children, but time was relentless. Tithonus aged, his hair turned gray, his strength faded. In the end, he could no longer move — yet he couldn’t die. Eventually, Eos, heartbroken, released him from his suffering by turning him into a cicada. Greek mythology is full of tragic ironies, and this one always stuck with me — “For the gifts of God are irrevocable”.
You often work with mirrors, reflections, and distorted realities. Have you ever taken a photograph where something unexpected appeared in the frame—something unplanned but worth keeping?
I shoot on a phone with deliberately “wrong” settings and push post-processing to the extreme. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a similar movement emerged in analog photography — Pictorialism. Pictorialist photographers didn’t treat the negative as a finished image but as raw material to be transformed through experimental printing techniques. For me, the unexpected usually happens in editing. Sometimes, a new color combination emerges out of nowhere, completely changing the mood of the shot. Occasionally, I embrace it, but most of the time, I try to stay true to my original idea.
Your ‘NOISE’ series reframes history through abstraction. If you could add a new ‘color of noise’ to represent the future of humanity, what shade would it be and why?
Just to give some context — each piece in this series reflects a different era. Black Noise is inspired by ancient black-figure pottery, Green Noise references medieval depictions of death, and Blue Noise draws from Renaissance sculptures. As for the future, I’ve already explored that in White Noise, the final piece in the series. I’d rather not define it too much — the name and form leave plenty of room for interpretation.
In ‘WE,’ you explore the dynamics of human connection. If you could collaborate with any artist, past or present, to expand this narrative, who would it be and what would the project look like?
That’s an easy one — Edvard Munch. This series was actually inspired by him. He spent years working on The Frieze of Life, which he called “a poem about life, love, and death.” It’s a cycle of over twenty paintings, divided into four themes: The Seeds of Love, The Flowering and Passing of Love, Anxiety, and Death. If you look at my WE series, you might notice some parallels — or maybe some differences. And fun fact: Munch was also really into photography! I think we would’ve had a lot to talk about.
You challenge traditional photography by using a mobile phone as your primary tool. If technology had no limits, would you still shoot the same way, or would your process evolve?
I don’t really think of it as challenging traditional photography — photography has always evolved. Mobile photography is just another step in the constant search for new creative and technical possibilities. But who knows? I’m open to experimenting with other techniques in the future.
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