Born in 1996 in Moscow, Margarita Suliaeva graduated with honors from the prestigious Moscow State Academic Art Institute named after V.I. Surikov. Awarded the Gold Medal from the Russian Academy of Arts in 2018, Margarita has participated in numerous exhibitions across Russia and internationally. Since 2022, she has been living and working in Serbia, continuing to expand her creative horizons.
Suliaeva’s work navigates the intricate spaces between memory, migration, collective identity, and the often unseen forces shaping our perceptions. Drawing from her background in graphic arts, she balances rigorous visual structure with profound emotional storytelling, creating pieces that are both intimate and universally resonant.
In this conversation, Margarita reflects on how cultural shifts, personal history, and the fragile yet persistent voice of childhood continue to shape her evolving artistic journey.
Your graduation series "Mzunzu" was inspired by a cultural expedition to Tanzania. How did that experience reshape your understanding of identity, both personal and collective?
The trip to Tanzania was one of the most eye-opening and inspiring experiences I’ve had as a young artist. It gave me a unique opportunity to immerse myself in a completely different cultural context and connect with people whose way of life was far removed from my own. I was struck by the openness, warmth, and resilience I witnessed — and this left a lasting impression on me. At first, I felt that in the age of globalization, our differences were mostly superficial. I believed that no matter where we come from, at our core, we all share the same basic hopes, needs, and dreams. But as the journey unfolded, I had to face a much harsher truth. I realized that even the most gifted and promising individuals born in the “wrong place” are often trapped in cycles of
poverty and inequality that can’t be broken by hard work alone. No matter how much effort, talent, or outside support is provided, the weight of systemic issues often prevails. That realization deeply challenged my previous assumptions and brought a sense of helplessness that stayed with me for a long time. It also made me rethink the idea of fairness and opportunity on a global scale. Before, I saw myself through roles like artist, student, woman, daughter. I didn't often think about how my national background shaped my inner self. Now, whenever I describe myself as a global person, I also say “from Russia,” because I understand how powerfully one’s environment and cultural background define who we become. Interestingly, this awareness continues to evolve, becoming even stronger with each new move I make.
Much of your work seems to carry a sense of memory and migration. How has relocating from Russia to Serbia influenced your artistic voice and internal world?
I have always felt a strange sense of belonging, as if I could fit in anywhere - the society is friendly and there are always people with similar interests to share experiences with. However, on the other hand, being a part of everything also means not belonging to anyone in particular. There is a lack of deep connection, and a feeling of emptiness.
This feeling was more subtle in Russia, within a specific context. Now, it manifests more strongly in Serbia. The country is incredibly hospitable and does everything to make visitors feel at home. In a way, you truly become "one of us". But there are times when you suddenly realize that you are still a stranger, even though you have been welcomed with open arms.
The feeling of home has been lost, and I understand that my "home" in Moscow no longer exists on a deeper level. While physically, my parents and friends are still there, the inner sense of home has vanished, perhaps forever, or perhaps it will return in another form in Belgrade or elsewhere.
This experience has greatly influenced my work. They became much heavier. Perhaps the process of pouring out experiences on canvas is my form of therapy.
Graphic arts are your foundation, but your themes often feel painterly, poetic, and even cinematic. How do you navigate the space between traditional technique and emotional storytelling?
The boundaries between genres have long been blurred, and new techniques and approaches continue to be created. My graphic-oriented education has formed a special visual way of thinking for me. I perceive the image in terms of shapes and planes, and I prioritize tone over color. Composition is my greatest strength, as it allows me to create a mathematically accurate visual system from the chaotic reality around me. There is a great deal of logic and calculation involved in this process.
However, my emotional side has also always been important to me. I am drawn to the
impressionists' use of color, which evokes strong emotions for me. All of my painting is a quest to balance my feelings with the rationality required for visual storytelling.
In your solo show "All of us are from Childhood AFRICA," . What does "childhood" represent for you as an artist?
"Childhood" is not just a period of life for me, but a unique way of perceiving the world. During childhood, everything seems big, bright and full of secrets. It shapes us on a deep level, even though we were not aware of it at the time. In my works, I often explore this idea - how fears, dreams, and first impressions continue to exist within us, regardless of where we go or who we become. It is important for me to convey not only specific memories, but also the atmosphere of a child's perspective - naive, intense, sometimes cruel, but always sincere. Childhood is also fragile, pure, and vulnerable. I believe the real victory lies in understanding your "inner child", accepting it, and preserving the spirit of wonder that childhood brings.
You've participated in exhibitions from Yerevan to Belgrade to online international fairs. How do you see your art translating across borders and digital spaces?
I like to see my works in different contexts because the space, environment, and audience change the perception. The viewer is also a co-author: he brings his own interpretation his own view. Whether it's in Yerevan, Belgrade, or on international online platforms, the reaction is always slightly different. However, this doesn't make it illogical or wrong; it's like a dialogue that sounds fresh every time.
Sometimes, people look at my work and tell me what it means to them. Their perspective often aligns with my intentions, but from an unexpected angle that I hadn't considered. This reaffirms that art lives through dialogue, through the interaction of different stories and experiences. That's what makes the communication through art so dynamic, and the artworks themselves only acquire additional value with each new look.
Your work often feels intimate yet universal. What inner themes or questions keep recurring in your creative process, regardless of project or medium?
Three main themes constantly return in my work: memory and loss, the impact of society on our self-perception and self-determination, and the role of propaganda. These themes intertwine, providing a space for reflecting on how external circumstances shape our perception of reality.
Memory and loss are not just about personal experiences, but also collective memory. We carry fragments of the past with us, even if we don't realize it. Some moments become the basis of our identity, while others fade into oblivion, replaced by new images. My works sometimes attempt to hold onto memories, while at other times they acknowledge their inevitable passage.
The influence of society has become especially acute for me since I moved. The feeling of belonging, the search for your place, and the clash with foreign cultural codes all change the way you see yourself. We constantly balance between who we want to be and how others see us. This is visually reflected in my work as a clash between bright, almost shouting forms and more muted, complex emotional layers.
Propaganda refers to the influence of systems on perception. The information we are fed forms memory, identity, and collective myths. I'm interested in how these mechanisms become part of our daily lives, becoming a visual code we don't even notice. In that sense, my work on propaganda is both a research project and a personal experience. I grew up with certain narratives, and now I observe how they are transformed or destroyed in new conditions.
These themes are interconnected. Identity and belonging are determined by collective
memory but are also influenced by propaganda. Society shapes the perception of oneself, and losses can become part of our collective experience. All this is the material with which I explore in my art.
You were awarded a gold medal from the Academy of Arts in 2018. Looking back, how has your idea of success evolved since that moment?
In 2018, I was awarded a gold medal by the Russian Academy of Arts, which at the time felt like a significant achievement and a form of recognition. However, since then, many things have changed, and my view of success has evolved. Now, I no longer feel like I am part of the Russian artistic community, at least at this point in my career. It’s important for me to grow in an international setting, engage with diverse audiences, and explore new opportunities to realize my ideas.
My current focus lies in collaborating with prestigious European galleries, participating in international exhibitions, and creating large-scale projects. My goal is to have my work exist not only through painting but also in other mediums. For instance, now I am actively engaged in AR projects. By combining classical techniques with innovative technologies, I gain greater freedom of expression and create more complex visual narratives.
For me, success is no longer defined by awards or official recognition. Instead, it's a process of continuous growth, expanding opportunities, and reaching new audiences.
What would you say is the emotional thread that ties your body of work together?
The emotional thread that runs through my work is a fascination with contradictions. I am interested in how something beautiful and poetic can be hidden in a rough and harsh form, or how something rotten and ugly can be behind a bright and attractive shell. This contrast attracts me again and again, because it has its own unique beauty.
I like to think about how the outward appearance can be deceptive, and how reality is often more complex and layered than it initially appears. This tension between what is visible and what is hidden runs through all of my work, creating a sense of intrigue and fascination.
Read more about Margarita here & follow Margarita on her Instagram