Critical review with Valentina Khodnevich

Written by Dennis Ngan

PUMP - Valentina Khodnevich

At first glance, Valentina Khodnevich’s video pieces might appear to be elegantly

shot, well-choreographed dance films. But what her video art work soon emerges is

a deeper, more textured terrain that plays with rhythm, abstraction and formal inquiry.

Take N25 for instance. This black-and-white work opens with a solo dancer crawling

and contorting, before exploring the terrains of his own body. Shot in slow motion

and framed in close-ups, Khodnevich transforms the dancer’s skin into topography.

Fleshes become fields, muscles become ridges, and veins suggest branches of a river.

The entire body breathes like a landscape caught in its own weather system.

Through contrast, shadow and deliberate editing, Khodnevich carefully reveals and

obscures movement, texture and emotion. The dancer certainly gives a beautiful

performance, but it is the rhythmic rise and fall of his skin that truly lingers.

In PUMP, a project presented by the digital video platform NOWNESS, Khodnevich

delves into the geometry of movement. Right away, my attention is drawn by the

costumes: reflective, bulky around the lower limbs, mimicking the physique of

bodybuilders. One outfit even has a loop around the dancer’s head. Khodnevich

might have approached the work as a visual study of shape and structure, but it

(unintentionally) gestures towards something else. The exaggerated suits and

geometric setups inevitably raise questions about identity, distortion and constraints.

I was told that before putting on these latex shells, the dancers have to powder

themselves. This preparatory ritual hints at a bodily transformation, as they appear to

be wearing the bulk of their own characters and personality. Through a montage of

dance moves in inflated suits, cat’s cradle sequences and a static installation piece

made of wheels, Khodnevich gracefully builds a visual grammar of tension,

entanglement and resistance. At one point, the dancers become roly-poly dolls, as

they mirror and evade one another. The geometry at play is not only physical but

relational: how bodies inhabit space, how they meet or miss, intertwine or untwine.

9.81 m/s² - Valentina Khodnevich

Named after the speed of gravitational acceleration, her latest video artwork, 9.81

m/s² imagines the feeling of falling. While the title implies a certain degree of

scientific rigidity, the work itself is fluid and meditative. Shot entirely in slow motion,

the work begins with gestures of lifting, twisting and swirling. It appears to dissect the

act of a person leaping from a building. Just as the dancer’s body is about to hit the

ground, the cut shifts to another performer rising. Through camera rotation and

carefully choreographed movements, 9.81 m/s² inverts our sense of gravitational

orientation, as we witness the performers defying gravity, venturing into

weightlessness. The piece also plays with sonic abstraction. The soundtrack was

built using a loop-generating instrument, creating ambient textures that feel unstable

yet coherent. Through her lens, the artist depicts a portrait of motion that embraces

uncertainty, while searching for grace in the fall.

Weaving in threads from choreography, fashion and contemporary relationships,

Khodnevich’s work forms a visual poetry that moves its audience. There is a strong

visual signature: high contrast, precise editing, close-ups, and a careful balancing act

between control and spontaneity. Her recent projects may also speak about our

shrinking attention spans. The pieces are short and often fast-paced in terms of

editing, so the viewers will not lose attention. But there is something in me that wants

her to slow down. If the dancers offer their bodies as canvases, what they deserve,

perhaps, is more time and space for appreciating the changing hues and nuances on

them. I find myself longing for more, less but more, in a slower pace.

Recently, Khodnevich has extended her practice into analogue photography, where

she avoids directing her subjects and pursuits for the immediate, unplanned and

solitary. She expresses her admiration for the American photographer Bruce Gilden,

whose confrontational street photography she sees as a bold ideal. This suggests a

curiosity about intervention, even if her current approach remains observational.

While visual resonances with her video work are present, her still photography

currently plays a quieter supporting role within her practice. It will be compelling to

witness how these two mediums converge as she continues to navigate her creative

journey.