Sonya Isupova

Sonya Isupova is a visual artist and researcher whose practice investigates the intersection between landscape, war, and cartography. Born in Ukraine and currently based between Kyiv and Switzerland, she explores the ecological and symbolic impact of war through data, maps, and machine-generated visualizations. Her work often combines satellite imaging and environmental science to reveal how territories themselves can bear witness to trauma. Collaborating with scientists and developing her own tools, such as custom-built CNC drawing machines, Sonya challenges the neutrality of maps and gives form to overlooked narratives embedded in the land.

In conversation with Sonya Isupova during the exhibition Oltre la pietra at Castelgrande, Bellinzona.

Can you tell us more about your practice?

My practice kind of emerged and solidified and became the most defined since the beginning of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February of 2024. And this event really changed how I look at art and how I look at my practice, and in some way helped me and pushed me in the direction I want to go (...). I'm very interested in the changes to the land because of the war, because I believe that the landscape is also a witness of the war. Not only people, not only buildings, not only our lives, which is, of course, very complex and very traumatic, but the landscape as well bears witness to the brutality of the war. And it also can tell us a lot of stories that we might have missed about the traumas that came before the war. It's not an embodiment of the landscape, but kind of agency of the landscape, looking at the events not from the human-centric perspective, but from the perspective of the other: the environment.
The second big theme is mapping. I'm very curious about cartography and the way we can use cartography to represent something that is very often missed, like trauma, like embodied knowledge. The way we represent ourselves in maps is not always accurate, and maps are always a bit problematic and reductive sometimes. When I started this project, I really wanted to look at the map critically and somehow use this tool to show the changes in the landscape, to combine this landscape as a witness with the power of cartography that we can employ for ourselves. When someone else represents Ukraine on maps, it’s always from the outside in, and I wanted to do it the other way around. A big part of my work is that I collaborate with scientists, specifically earth scientists, in Ukraine. Part of my project was a workshop I did in Kyiv with an Earth scientist and a university student, where we analysed the area around the Kakhovka Dam. I'm currently exploring the consequences of the dam's destruction. (...) This collaboration helps me to think through this tool of satellite data. I also want to avoid misrepresenting data, so I must understand what I’m working with. I want this to be a collaborative situation.
As for materials, the most important part is the machine I’m building myself, a kind of drawing machine based on CNC. This was part of the project: to create my own tools of mapmaking, my process. I see this as research. Through the process of building the tool, I think through it, I analyse the data, and I understand what comes with using it. Any technology comes with problems, black boxes. This process allows me to think through the tool and control it. I mostly use paper because it's easy, and markers to create bright effects.

How do you see the role of the artist today?

I'm in Switzerland right now, in this beautiful castle, but mentally, I’m in Ukraine. With my art, with my thoughts, I'm still there. So I think a lot about what it means to be an artist during wartime, which many of us are. I would say it's maybe a little bit of a hopeful practice, something you can still do despite the war. Even when everything is really bad, you still want to wake up and come up with some ideas. That’s hopeful. I see people continuing, painting, making sculptures, doing whatever they did before, and that inspires me. Because the worst thing is when people stop their regular lives. Another part is that, here in Switzerland, not many artists are working with Ukrainian topics. So I feel some responsibility. I try to collaborate and support others, and we need to talk about these experiences. There are many Ukrainian refugees in Switzerland. The war is happening, but here it sometimes feels like it’s not. It’s easy not to pay attention. So I try to be a kind of messenger, reminding people why this is here, why these maps are here.

I really liked the approach of Matazz, it’s very kind. For me, it’s important how people approach your art, and they approached mine with respect. It doesn’t feel like an extractive way of using artists, but rather about bringing them in, creating an atmosphere, and working together. It was also a completely new context for me; I had never exhibited in Ticino. I enjoyed the space; the castle inspired me. I felt the work could fit well into this landscape. Everything is so green, it felt connected to my maps, to this green vegetation and nature all around. I appreciate the ethics and the relationship Matazz has. They work with respect. You don’t often find that in curators.