TERRA INCOGNITA
A solo exhibition in the Lazy Mike gallery
2025
2025
"The slope narrowed, forming a rocky crest that reached out like a long promontory into the marshes; they sparkled through the steamy haze. The noonday sky, now freed of its leafy veils, hung oppressively over us with its blinding darkness—yes, its blinding darkness, for there is no other way to describe it." [1]
Terra Incognita—the unknown land. First coined by the ancient Greek astronomer Ptolemaeus, the term evoked a vague yet profound fear of uncharted territories, where monsters were drawn onto the surface of lands that had yet to be unveiled before the advancement of navigation. Perhaps it was fear itself that kept one from stepping into the ‘blinding darkness’. Now, in an age where we entrust ourselves to the spinning vectors of GPS, the once-unknown lands have been fully documented, their surfaces reaching into the depths of space. Nevertheless, the unknown is not solely a domain of study in geography and astronomy. It resides within us, in the depths of the unconscious realm, from which myths are derived. That is why myths persist—and why they must persist. When blinding darkness descends upon an uncharted realm, the land within us dreams ceaselessly of awakening its own light.
Evgeniya Dudnikova works across painting, sculpture, and installation, intertwining realistic depictions of the regions she works in with mythological allegories, continually blurring the boundary between reality and fiction. The vast landscapes Dudnikova depicts—including the Andes Mountains, Aconcagua, and the Atacama Desert— evoke both her exploratory spirit and the environment in which she carries out her work in Chile. In time, the recurring presence of horses, star-shaped patterns, comets, and winged angels subtly summons the mythological motifs that are central to the artist’s exploration. Having relocated to Chile, Dudnikova developed an interest in the mythology of the Mapuche, an indigenous people of Chile—a compound word of 'mapu' (earth) and 'che' (human), meaning 'people of the earth.' Drawing on her imagination, she reshapes these ancestral myths into her own—a process rooted in childhood recollections of riding horses and her intimate bond with them—depicting them as extensions of herself or as sacred creatures that divine the path forward as guiding keys. In this way, she has developed a multi-dimensional narrative inspired by awe and reverence for the natural world.
Meanwhile, the mobile dwellings and the attire of the figures, which hint at nomadism, offer insight into an aspect of the artist's Russian heritage. This blending of narratives suggests that the patterns of myths mirror those of dreams, as mythologist Joseph Campbell puts it: “as long suspected, the bizarre fantasies of ancient man have dramatically returned to the surface of modern consciousness.”[2] Building on this, assessments of Dudnikova’s work frequently draw parallels to Jungian psychology, particularly Jung’s assertion that myths from different regions contain shared archetypal motifs shaped by the collective unconscious. In her work, the underlying commonality among the ingrained elements of Russian culture, the myths of Chile, and her own imagination is perceived unconsciously. In other words, as the artist’s dreamlike thinking transforms into mythological thought, her work shifts between reality and illusion. The traditional dwellings of Eurasian nomads, such as the Yurt and the Deel clothing, appear throughout the work as a way of life, blending seamlessly with the natural landscape of Chile, while the horse—inherent with layered meanings of power, wealth, and mobility—takes form in Stars over Aconcagua, where its draped body merges with the contours of distant mountain peaks. This ambiguity places the semi-translucent figure at the boundary between reality and the virtual, further becoming a mechanism that thins and lightens the boundary.
Traversing from Russia to Chile and back again—between two spaces that feel like home—Dudnikova envisions a shared belief in and connection to nature despite the vast distance, simultaneously capturing the uncertainties brought by shifting surroundings and her own transitional state. Another layer of context emerges here—Chile’s shadowed history. During the Spanish colonial era, many Latin American countries, including Chile, were framed through a distorted colonial perspective, misrepresented as ‘subjects of the primitive and the mysterious’. Much like how nomads in barren lands were historically labeled 'noble savages,' the unknown was misconstrued as a composite of the ‘uncivilized’ and the ‘unknowing.’ In response, Dudnikova seeks to embrace the wounds of Chile’s past, weaving portrayals of nature with mythologies of healing that envelop the land. A manifestation of 'fact-ionalization'[3]—illuminating the darkness of history with the light of myth—takes symbolic form in the resilience of a cactus stretching forth in barren land, a flower blooming against the odds, the shimmering tail of a comet foretelling hope, and the graceful figure of a horse standing on a radiant rainbow bridge. In Hands of the Mother, the shape of the cactus takes the form of an open palm around the central figure, evoking the image of Mother Earth, giver of life. In Spirits by the Bonfire, spirits embroider the night sky with stars alongside an alpaca (or a half-human, half-beast), and the moonlit cowboy becomes a figure that aids and protects travelers. In this formulation, Dudnikova’s work—both a means of quieting her own internal disorientation and an act of deconstructing the Western colonial logic imposed on Latin America—organically interweaves disparate spaces, awakening a belief that shared wounds can reveal common pathways to healing.
The figures in Dudnikova’s works seldom meet our gaze. Perhaps they stand at a crossroads, their backs turned. The reality that awaits us is more fearsome than the monsters etched onto old maps. And yet, a reality that has not yet arrived is no different from a myth. There is solace in the distant hope that the soul within us, the angel within us, may one day extend its hand. Like the figures in the painting gazing upon the landscape, we, too, stand before the scene, lingering in our gaze—where myths ripple through us, their quiet pulse gathering into an unshakable strength.
[1] Vladimir Nabokov, “Terra Incognita,” Nabokov Short Stories. Translated by Yoonha Kim. Paju: Munhakdongne Publishing Corp., 2022. p. 555.
[2] Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Translated by Yoonki Lee. Paju: Minumsa Publishing Group. 2019. p. 311.
[3] Translator’s note: The term ‘faction’ (팩션) is a Korean neologism that combines ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’most exclusively with painting, Evgeniya sets herself the ambitious goal: to develop an extremely complex symbolic language in which she addresses the theme of inner travel and transformation.
Terra Incognita—the unknown land. First coined by the ancient Greek astronomer Ptolemaeus, the term evoked a vague yet profound fear of uncharted territories, where monsters were drawn onto the surface of lands that had yet to be unveiled before the advancement of navigation. Perhaps it was fear itself that kept one from stepping into the ‘blinding darkness’. Now, in an age where we entrust ourselves to the spinning vectors of GPS, the once-unknown lands have been fully documented, their surfaces reaching into the depths of space. Nevertheless, the unknown is not solely a domain of study in geography and astronomy. It resides within us, in the depths of the unconscious realm, from which myths are derived. That is why myths persist—and why they must persist. When blinding darkness descends upon an uncharted realm, the land within us dreams ceaselessly of awakening its own light.
Evgeniya Dudnikova works across painting, sculpture, and installation, intertwining realistic depictions of the regions she works in with mythological allegories, continually blurring the boundary between reality and fiction. The vast landscapes Dudnikova depicts—including the Andes Mountains, Aconcagua, and the Atacama Desert— evoke both her exploratory spirit and the environment in which she carries out her work in Chile. In time, the recurring presence of horses, star-shaped patterns, comets, and winged angels subtly summons the mythological motifs that are central to the artist’s exploration. Having relocated to Chile, Dudnikova developed an interest in the mythology of the Mapuche, an indigenous people of Chile—a compound word of 'mapu' (earth) and 'che' (human), meaning 'people of the earth.' Drawing on her imagination, she reshapes these ancestral myths into her own—a process rooted in childhood recollections of riding horses and her intimate bond with them—depicting them as extensions of herself or as sacred creatures that divine the path forward as guiding keys. In this way, she has developed a multi-dimensional narrative inspired by awe and reverence for the natural world.
Meanwhile, the mobile dwellings and the attire of the figures, which hint at nomadism, offer insight into an aspect of the artist's Russian heritage. This blending of narratives suggests that the patterns of myths mirror those of dreams, as mythologist Joseph Campbell puts it: “as long suspected, the bizarre fantasies of ancient man have dramatically returned to the surface of modern consciousness.”[2] Building on this, assessments of Dudnikova’s work frequently draw parallels to Jungian psychology, particularly Jung’s assertion that myths from different regions contain shared archetypal motifs shaped by the collective unconscious. In her work, the underlying commonality among the ingrained elements of Russian culture, the myths of Chile, and her own imagination is perceived unconsciously. In other words, as the artist’s dreamlike thinking transforms into mythological thought, her work shifts between reality and illusion. The traditional dwellings of Eurasian nomads, such as the Yurt and the Deel clothing, appear throughout the work as a way of life, blending seamlessly with the natural landscape of Chile, while the horse—inherent with layered meanings of power, wealth, and mobility—takes form in Stars over Aconcagua, where its draped body merges with the contours of distant mountain peaks. This ambiguity places the semi-translucent figure at the boundary between reality and the virtual, further becoming a mechanism that thins and lightens the boundary.
Traversing from Russia to Chile and back again—between two spaces that feel like home—Dudnikova envisions a shared belief in and connection to nature despite the vast distance, simultaneously capturing the uncertainties brought by shifting surroundings and her own transitional state. Another layer of context emerges here—Chile’s shadowed history. During the Spanish colonial era, many Latin American countries, including Chile, were framed through a distorted colonial perspective, misrepresented as ‘subjects of the primitive and the mysterious’. Much like how nomads in barren lands were historically labeled 'noble savages,' the unknown was misconstrued as a composite of the ‘uncivilized’ and the ‘unknowing.’ In response, Dudnikova seeks to embrace the wounds of Chile’s past, weaving portrayals of nature with mythologies of healing that envelop the land. A manifestation of 'fact-ionalization'[3]—illuminating the darkness of history with the light of myth—takes symbolic form in the resilience of a cactus stretching forth in barren land, a flower blooming against the odds, the shimmering tail of a comet foretelling hope, and the graceful figure of a horse standing on a radiant rainbow bridge. In Hands of the Mother, the shape of the cactus takes the form of an open palm around the central figure, evoking the image of Mother Earth, giver of life. In Spirits by the Bonfire, spirits embroider the night sky with stars alongside an alpaca (or a half-human, half-beast), and the moonlit cowboy becomes a figure that aids and protects travelers. In this formulation, Dudnikova’s work—both a means of quieting her own internal disorientation and an act of deconstructing the Western colonial logic imposed on Latin America—organically interweaves disparate spaces, awakening a belief that shared wounds can reveal common pathways to healing.
The figures in Dudnikova’s works seldom meet our gaze. Perhaps they stand at a crossroads, their backs turned. The reality that awaits us is more fearsome than the monsters etched onto old maps. And yet, a reality that has not yet arrived is no different from a myth. There is solace in the distant hope that the soul within us, the angel within us, may one day extend its hand. Like the figures in the painting gazing upon the landscape, we, too, stand before the scene, lingering in our gaze—where myths ripple through us, their quiet pulse gathering into an unshakable strength.
[1] Vladimir Nabokov, “Terra Incognita,” Nabokov Short Stories. Translated by Yoonha Kim. Paju: Munhakdongne Publishing Corp., 2022. p. 555.
[2] Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Translated by Yoonki Lee. Paju: Minumsa Publishing Group. 2019. p. 311.
[3] Translator’s note: The term ‘faction’ (팩션) is a Korean neologism that combines ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’most exclusively with painting, Evgeniya sets herself the ambitious goal: to develop an extremely complex symbolic language in which she addresses the theme of inner travel and transformation.
