Tatjana Palchuk
Tatjana Palcuka-Rikane (further on - Tatjana) was born in 1954, in the capital city of Latvia – Riga. From 1967th to 1973th studied in Jana Rozentala School of Art in Riga, where received college-level education. From 1975th to 1981th studied in Latvian Academy of Arts, department of easel- painting, followed by an excellent evaluation. From 1984th to 1987th studied in post-graduate course (master class) in the USSR Academy of Arts workshop.
Excellent experience gained while studying at the most famous Western school academics like marine painter Eduards Kalnins (Eduard Kalnins) and other great masters. Continuously working and studying at the highest level, Tanya perfectly learned Latvian academic school of painting - including academic drawing school, a subtle sense of colorful, delicate painting technique and excellent composition skills. In 2003rd received Master of Arts in Fine Arts and Painting. From the world's artistic heritage Tanya is very close to the Italian Renaissance, Northern Renaissance (15th – 16th century), French Illuminated Manuscripts (15th century).
Tatjana Palcuka-Rikane is a member of the Latvian Art Union. She is also painting, drawing and composition teacher. Her students work in many countries around the world. Tanya regularly participates in exhibitions. There have been eight solo exhibitions and many group exhibitions. Her paintings are in public collections and many private collections all around the world.
Tatjana, your career bridges the academic discipline of oil painting with an almost spiritual devotion to composition and detail. Having recently received the Collectors Art Prize Legends of Our Time, how do you perceive this recognition in relation to your lifelong pursuit of maintaining a rigorous classical technical culture in a contemporary art world often driven by trends and conceptual fashion?
Thank you very much for the interesting questions. They are very clearly and logically formulated. Thanks again. Answer to the first question.I view academic fine art education as the foundation for professional training. It's like a primer. Without mastering the basics, you won't learn to read. Being an artist involves a great deal of craft, and it's essential to know it. Then, it's easier to realize your vision, your idea. And then, based on this knowledge, comes complete creative freedom.
The "Legends of Our Time" award was a complete surprise. After all, my paintings don't conform to contemporary trends or fashion in the visual arts. That's why it was so gratifying and rewarding to receive this award. And of course, I'm grateful to the international council of curators and art historians for such high praise for my work.
You often describe painting as a form of philosophy, a way of thinking as well as a mode of expression. Could you elaborate on how your understanding of the human being as a microcosmos within a macrocosmos is translated visually into your canvases, particularly in the intricate balance of symbolic objects, musical instruments, and birds that often inhabit your still lifes?
In my opinion, the basis of any creativity is the author's attitude to the world around them and their place in it. And their perception of everything and everyone. This is what defines their art. I could be wrong. Our world is so vast, diverse, and complex. But everything in it is logically arranged and interconnected. I think it still exists only thanks to love - kindness - beauty. A person, on the one hand, is a tiny grain of sand in the overall structure of the world, and on the other hand, thanks to reason, this entire world (the Cosmos) accumulates within them. When I work, of course, I don't think about it. Everything happens by itself. Well, something like that.
Your biography reflects both resilience and independence, from the early loss of your father to enrolling yourself in Rozentals Art School and later studying under Eduards Kalniņš. In what ways has this self-driven path shaped your insistence on authenticity, and how do you reconcile the vulnerability of being old school with the strength it gives to your artistic voice?
As an artist, I was undoubtedly formed primarily by the examples and traditions of the Latvian national school of painting. I began studying at the Jan Rozentals Riga Art School at the age of 11. Therefore, I think nothing else could have come of me. This school is very close in spirit. But Latvian culture and art are, of course, part of global Western European culture. And if we talk specifically about painting, then even in Soviet times, the Latvian school of painting was the most interesting. It was characterized by a wonderful sense of color and color scheme; thoughtful composition; a balance between form and content. Of course, I am biased. But that is understandable. By preserving the traditions of the old school, developing and reinterpreting them, something new is created. And plus, over the years, there has been a huge influence from all of world art.
Latvia has produced major cultural figures from Mark Rothko to Mikhail Baryshnikov. Do you feel a kinship with this tradition of Latvian creativity that merges Baltic identity with European and global dialogues, and how does your art, with its Renaissance sensibility and modern symbolism, contribute to this lineage?
Let me repeat. Latvia undoubtedly belongs to Western European culture, which I consider one of the world's cultures. This is how it has historically developed. Latvia is small and, as an independent state, a young country. But proportionate to its size, it has given the world quite a number of outstanding cultural figures. These include Mark Rothko, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Gidon Kremer, Vija Celmins, Elina Garanca, Andris Nelsons, and Marina Rebeka. And these are not all the names. I would like to hope, through my work, to make a small contribution to this illustrious group.
Your still lifes are often described as hyperrealistic yet infused with surreal undertones. Carefully arranged vessels, fruits, textiles, and birds seem to exist both in the material and metaphysical realms. How do you decide where to position your work along this spectrum of realism and imagination, and what internal criteria signal to you that a painting has achieved its intended harmony?
Well, I'm a long way from hyperrealism. And that's not my goal. The objects and creatures in my still lifes exist in real life. Is art a reflection of life? Yes and no. It's something else entirely. And that's precisely what's perceived as a surrealist undertone. I think so. Everything is like life, but different. I think that's the most interesting thing about art, when there's a touch of conventionality. If a painting fulfills the purpose I set for myself, then it's finished.
As a lecturer in painting, drawing, and composition, you have emphasized to your students the primacy of form and composition above all else. Could you share what you consider the single most essential lesson an emerging artist must grasp to create works that endure beyond fashion and time?
Anyone who wants to learn can be taught to draw and write well. There's a lot of craft involved in this process. Simply put, how to sharpen pencils, how to mix paints, and so on. Then there's theoretical knowledge—composition, color theory, and other disciplines. And it's still craft. This knowledge and experience are essential for creativity. They help fully realize the artist's vision. That's what matters most—your thoughts, your ideas, your philosophy. Well, each student decides for themselves whether or not to use this knowledge. And whether their works will be masterpieces or not—time will tell. That's not worth worrying about. The main thing is to do what you love.
Music recurs as a central motif in your oeuvre, with instruments and rhythms visually echoing through your canvases. What role does music, both literal and metaphorical, play in your creative process, and do you see painting as a form of silent music that orchestrates colors, emotions, and symbolic associations
Music... For me, it's the pinnacle of the conventional "hierarchy of arts." And painting, of course, is almost right there. Sound alone expresses the entire spectrum of human emotions. In terms of its powerful impact on people, it's difficult to compare anything with painting. This is my perception of music. For me, everything here is subject matter for composition: the music itself, the musicians, the musical instruments. When I paint, music I like is always playing in the studio. And it's varied. In the creation of a painting, the author is primary, just as in music, the composer is primary. The concept comes first. The artist's idea selects the music. And it is precisely this idea that forms the basis for an existing melody. Perhaps this is unique to me. And one more thing. Music inspires a person to appreciate all that is beautiful. Through the harmony of sounds, it helps us see the beauty of our world.
In your artist statement, you mention the intimacy you feel with Nordic Renaissance painters. What particular qualities of that tradition resonate most with you, their intimacy, symbolism, use of light, or something else, and how do you reinterpret those qualities to speak to contemporary audiences who may be less familiar with that history?
Honestly, in my youth, this period in art history wasn't emotionally close to me. Back then, I shared the opinion that the work of artists of this movement was rather naturalistic and naive. I don't know what happened, but in adulthood, I discovered the great art of the Northern Renaissance: Jan van Eyck, Rogier van der Weyden, Hans Memling, Jean Fouquet, and others. Their paintings are sincere and emotional. As Bernard Berenson said: "Not what a man knows, but what a man feels concerns art." And all this was achieved primarily thanks to radiant color, a well-chosen palette, a fairly conventional composition, and a distinctive design. It is precisely these aspects of their work that resonate with me. Just two examples make everything clear: "St. John Altarpiece" by Hans Memling (Memlingmuseum, Sint-Janshospitaal, Bruges), "The Virgin of Chancellor Rolin" by Jan van EYCK (Musée du Louvre, Paris). I'm only talking about personal perception.
You have spoken about the difficulty of always painting old school and not aligning with mainstream currents, yet over the decades, this steadfastness has ripened into maturity and recognition. Looking back, would you say that resistance to trends has been your greatest challenge, or paradoxically, your greatest gift as an artist?
Working "old-school" means not only how you paint or draw, but also what you paint or draw. I've always felt that my paintings deviated from the general mainstream. At first, this caused tension and great self-doubt. But through these doubts, you come to the understanding and confidence that the path you've chosen in art is uniquely yours, whether others like it or not. And subsequently, the discrepancy between my works and fashionable trends and the mainstream didn't bother me. I don't want to say that choosing this path was "the biggest challenge" for me, but it was nerve-wracking. But that's normal. As long as you doubt yourself, as long as you look critically at your work, you're doing just fine. Paradoxically, it was precisely this difference from the mainstream that attracted attention to my paintings; it was precisely this that proved interesting to viewers and many art critics. And that's very, very gratifying. It certainly gives you the self-confidence so essential to any creative endeavor.
Your paintings seem to live independent lives, as though once completed, they continue to generate energy and meaning without you. How do you relate to your finished works once they leave your studio? Do you see them as children that must find their own path, as silent ambassadors of your philosophy, or as mirrors reflecting parts of yourself that no longer belong to you?
That's exactly what happens. A finished painting doesn't need me. Everything is already there: my idea, my meaning, my worldview. And my feelings that the world and the people in it are beautiful. Everything that I put into it. From that moment on, the painting is already independent and sets off on a great voyage. And it will undoubtedly resonate with someone. It will resonate with someone's soul. When a work goes into someone's collection, I am glad that it has found someone who has loved it and let it into their home. I think this is recognition of my work.