Minutes before I interview the France-based Russian photographer Vlad Zorin on Zoom, I flick through one of my most cherished books, Amour: How the French Talk About Love by journalist and documentary maker Stephanie Rousselle. You could argue this act was done in preparation for the interview, (I admittedly did have a hunch some stories would be of interest to Zorin, based on the complex nature of romance embedded in his work) but in truth, it was much more simple than that. Thumbing the book moments before Zorin’s pixelated face entered the chat room reopened my mind to the trials and tribulations of love, reminding me how each and everyone’s journey towards self-acceptance is often never smooth sailing (despite how plain it may appear on the surface). When I read those pages the first time, I learned there’s no right way to love or be loved and so, by recounting the short stories I first fell in love with when I stumbled across the book in a reduced goods basket in Brick Lane Bookshop about 8 years ago, I was unknowingly preparing myself for Zorin’s story; one of courage, beauty and pain, but most of all, love.
With Love from France (2024), Vlad Zorin. Courtesy the Artist and Upsilon Gallery
‘I want to start off as far back as possible so you can understand how I ended up here’, Zorin begins. ‘I had been working as a commercial fashion photographer for a long time. A lot of my work was for Vogue Russia and Vogue France which meant I would travel outside of my native hometown in Russia to other countries frequently, an experience that opened my eyes, giving me a newfound perspective on life outside of Russia. It was during this point in my life that I started asking questions. I was noticing things that were happening in terms of censorship in my country that were different from other places and I wanted to know more.’ It’s at this point Zorin reveals the extent of his curiosity, which ended up culminating in his first book, the aforementioned With Love From Russia. ‘The difference with that project was that it was more rooted in questions I had about myself’, Zorin reflects. ‘I had questions about my own sexuality, because so did everyone else. People at that time would ask me: “Vlad, are you gay?” and I couldn’t answer them because I didn’t really know. So, by embarking on this journey of interviewing other young men across Russia, [which is the crux of this series, interviewing different men in both respective countries] it became more of a project about self reflection - asking questions of other young men, allowed me to hold up a mirror to process my own sexuality and myself’.
It’s worth noting here that Zorin’s relationship with Russia was (and still is) just as complicated. ‘At the beginning of 2022, I staged an exhibition at Fābula Gallery in the Red Square, just five minutes away from the Kremlin’, he tells me, wearing a look of concern - not to be confused with regret. If only I could sense what would be coming next. ‘It was a solo show titled Against, and I knew I was being provocative but I had to do it’. ‘Do what?’, I asked. ‘A photography and video installation-based exhibition of young men masturbating with tanks’, Zorin frankly states, without elaborating any further. ‘The following day, I had to leave my country, so I ended up coming to France. The war started shortly after and so ever since, France has been my home.’ I didn’t ask why Zorin decided to do this, the sentiment - being an anti-war cry of Russian youth - was obvious. It was what I can only narrate as the ultimate act of protest against what many rightly knew would soon break out into war in February 2022, despite Putin’s denial at the time.
With Love from France (2024), Vlad Zorin. Courtesy the Artist and Upsilon Gallery
It doesn’t take a genius to realise that Zorin’s exhibition Against looks and feels radically different from Vlad Zorin: Unmasked, (world’s apart almost). Despite both utilising the medium of photography - a language intrinsic to Zorin’s sense of self - Unmasked is much softer, in its tone and imagery. Many of the works on show as part of the exhibition and book are deeply erotic yet exude no sexual undertones whatsoever. They’re romantic and dreamy but also grounded in reality, treading the line between honesty and depravity. We feel like we know each man in each photograph but there’s also something distant and cold. Does this have to do with the fact they’re all wearing a mask? Possibly. Yet in spite of the coldness, there’s an abundance of warmth and so it’d be a lie to refer to these photographs as anything other than intimate. Alas, considering the term is thrown around so blissfully these days, I'll consciously refrain.
Helping accentuate Zorin’s already hyper focused lens is the fact that many of the 50 plus French men who are featured in the book don’t just appear in photograph but also in text thanks to the additional 21 thought-provoking interviews on sexuality published alongside, all of which were conducted over a span of two years as Zorin hitchhiked across France. In some cases, the interviews are more revealing that the photographs they feature next to which, considering nudity is prevalent in the book, says a lot. ‘The interviews are very sincere’, Zorin admits. ‘They come from the heart, so they're very personal’, two notions that extend to every other project Zorin has worked on - at least when it comes to putting himself first.
With Love from France (2024), Vlad Zorin. Courtesy the Artist and Upsilon Gallery
‘This project has helped me to deal with my inner personal issues and really, has answered any question I had about myself. All of this was about self reflection’, he says. I probe more, wanting to know the truth of his experience in France as a gay Russian man and how he was able to coax such wonderfully complex stories out of these strangers. After all, as a journalist I know first hand how getting someone to open up to you isn’t as simple as offering a little encouragement, people are much more complicated than that. ‘If I can be honest’, Zorin begins, ‘I was really taken by surprise. Being Russian, I think I idealised France. I know this is common but particularly for us Russians, there is a level of idealisation we have about France that no country is capable of living up to, so there were some things I discovered while working on this project that really did shock me at times’. I can tell Zorin is choosing his words carefully. ‘So many things happened that didn’t match up to this romantic beautiful accepting country I thought France to be. I discovered some difficult issues that are present in this country, all of which reiterated this idea of social media and Instagram not matching or reflecting the reality of daily life and people.’ However it’s not all bad. ‘French people definitely taught me how to accept the different parts of my individuality because living in Russia for most of my life I couldn’t help but feel locked, not being able to accept my true self’, Zorin mentions. ‘During each story I was figuring out my hidden problems, so due to the bravery of the guys who participated in this project, I was able to overcome my own fears and insecurities’. As for that reality Zorin is hinting at, things start to become clearer when he launches into the finer details of such encounters.
With Love from France (2024), Vlad Zorin. Courtesy the Artist and Upsilon Gallery
‘Sometimes I would just sit there and listen, other times I would cry’, Zorin says. ‘I met a young man whose personal story was so harrowing that I will never forget it'. At the age of 16, his dad severely beat him up and banned him from the family all because he found out his son was gay. Another story involved a young man who was HIV positive and when he arrived in Paris from the suburbs, he saw two young men holding hands and was so deeply touched he told Zorin that it was the first time he’d realised he ‘wasn’t actually alone’. Most of all, Zorin finds his work most rewarding when he notices a physical change in his subject. ‘There were often times where people agreed to be photographed naked, but when the moment arrived, they were completely unprepared, essentially acting really timid and shy. Throughout the process of being photographed and exposing their body, they undergo this radical change when they start to deal with all these issues, and so, at the end of the experience, I often see their eyes light up. The fact that I’ve borne witness to this person’s transformation and even had a part to play in it is something that touches me deeply.’
At this point, I decide to shoot Zorin another question, one not entirely relating to his project. ‘Have you ever read Rouselle’s photobook Amour: How the French Talk About Love?’, I ask. He shakes his head before, via Ivanyukhina, asking me what it’s about. Only here do I realise how strikingly similar Zorin’s work is to Rouselle’s, in subject and approach. I tell him how the book is rooted in Rouselle’s own experience of love - or lack of it - triggered by the 2015 terrorist attacks in France.
‘A man I knew died in that concert hall’, Rouselle writes in her introduction to the book. ‘I remember dancing with him that very summer at a friend’s wedding. But he was gone now. Shot by a terrorist. The sadness overwhelmed me… I couldn’t stop. I had to work… the stories kept piling up. The National Front party was very close to winning the regional elections that year and I was there to witness it. Cover the hate. The racism. More poison. But I couldn’t blink; I was a journalist. Truth is I was broken. I was suffocating. My heart was crushed. I had stopped believing in love. I wanted to die. But I decided to give myself one last chance. I was going to see for myself if people really cared for each other. Or if love was just a lie. So I got in my car and hit the road’.
With Love from France (2024), Vlad Zorin. Courtesy the Artist and Upsilon Gallery
These words are printed at the beginning of the book, setting the scene for the numerous encounters documented and love stories featured. I consider Rouselle’s journey similar, if not, identical to Zorin’s. Both have faced ferocious setbacks in life and love, but this isn’t what they share in common. It’s the fact that both refuse to cower to the system; to the cycle of hate, whether it be perpetuated by their government or by people around them.
I ask Zorin one final question. ‘What emotion do you want your work to ignite? What do you want people to take away from the book?’ His answer is as touching as the message embedded in his work. ‘I don't necessarily expect anything from my audience’, Zorin notes. ‘This project is genuinely from my heart, so when I set particular expectations, it becomes a type of product, which isn’t the point. He pauses for a moment before swiftly changing direction. ‘However, all the feedback I've received so far has been really positive, which is nice. You know, when I feel really tired and exhausted, I sometimes think about stopping. But that thought squashes as soon as I receive messages from my audience. They remind me that I can't stop and that my work affects too many people, even if I don’t know it, or see it. I often think to myself, "Even if one life is changed for the better, that’s enough reason to continue what I do". Everything I do, I do it for them.
With Love from France (2024), Vlad Zorin. Courtesy the Artist and Upsilon Gallery
Christina Donoghue is the art and culture editor at SHOWstudio.\