After a journey through the blinding world of She Wolf, I felt like my eyes were flooded with milk. Fashion and food porn, northern coldness (well, the place she’s from – Bucovina – it’s kind of the Romanian Scandinavia) and pale tones, silence and delicacy. Faceless self-portraits. OCD-ish order. These are just few words that could sum up the tiny, isolated, virtual island of young visual artist Raluca Marie Wolfski.
Raluca self-recommends as a tale-teller, a freelance stylist, editor and dream-photographer. I asked her if she’d agree with an interview and she said she would be pleased to. “It delights me to know that I do something nice enough to make you write about it!”. She didn’t know how to call me. “Daniel or Alex?”. I assured her it didn’t really matter. She disapproved.
We started a long discussion (I had to cut big parts of it!), from which I managed to take out, involuntarily, a double-interview – one with her and one with me. Because, for some reason, she didn’t think it would be fair to point the questions only in one direction.
You can read below the transcript of the talk I’ve had with Raluca, a slightly day-dreaming text, on the edge of flirt and wanderlust.
Daniel (Cultartes): I tried (without any luck so far) to figure out from your blog where you’re coming from and how old you are.
Raluca Marie Wolfski: I’m glad to hear that. Born in ’88. Near to Iasi, sort of. More like Bucovina, “home sweet home!”
How come you are not promoted more? For instance, I have no clue how I ended up on She Wolf. But, then again, I’m ending up on obscure places all the time.
The misteries of life, I guess! I’m glad you finally jumped on my blog. I don’t think many people get there. Promotion? Perhaps I’m not worth it for most of the world. I’ve no idea. I don’t think I create things that get their attention. But, it’s nice to do the things you like anyway, am I right? Assuming you do it from your inner passion.
You feel way better when the others enjoy what you do, too!
Of course, but I keep learning that you cannot satisfy everybody. No matter how much it would mean for our ego and for our self-esteem.
Does all your blog content (photographs, articles) belong to you?
Yes. Except my Facebook page, which is a mix between what inspires me and my original blog posts.
Have you ever been featured by any other magazine? Is there any other material that specifically covers your art?
The first (and only) article is in an issue of What Liberty Ate, an online magazine. But it is pretty old.
So you didn’t pass entirely unnoticed after all.
(Smiling) No, not really!
Why’s everything so white? So clean, so surgical?
Clean and aesthetically perfect is Ivania Carpio von Osch (Love Aesthetics), my first inspiration. From her I began to feel the need for more light, more air, more clean space, more good things in my lungs. White feels almost perfect.
Do you (and we) really need perfection?
Nope, ‘cause there isn’t one; even white gets stained!
There’s beauty in the imperfections, right?
Like everybody and everything. Or how to bring together the imperfections into something beautiful.
Somehow, the discussion goes so far away that we start to worm the stories out of each other, and we begin to complaint we’re not gifted enough to offer more to the world. That everybody’s got something to say, it’s just, because of the lack of talents, they disappear into some kind of a grey mediocrity twilight zone.
You know, there’s this scene in one of the Allens’s movies. It’s about this girl who says she would do many things, and she feels like she’s got a lot to say, but she’s not gifted. I always empathized with her. How about you?
Tell me about it! Feel the same so often! And my heart grows when I get all inspired by photographs, places and clothing, and accessories, black and white, and pale colors, and my mind already swirls with new ideas and pictures. And angles. And hairs. And tension keeps intensifying. And I’d teleport to Paris, to try to be happy over there. Or to Cluj, if not Paris or London. Or other, more norhern places. Those are the only other places I’d see myself.
I knew you have a fetish for scandinavian spirit since I’ve seen your selfportraits.
Guilty. Even though Amsterdam would be nice to live in, too. Or Copenhagen. That minimal-industrial-rustic-chic-ness I keep craving for.
What’s keeping you here? And where would you definitely move to, anyway? Any populated places?
The stupid circumstances, which will fade away this summer. I can’t wait! I really hope my budget will allow me to be in Paris, with all its population. Have you ever felt something so special for a girl, even before you knew her, even before you looked into her eyes?
That’s how I feel for Paris. It’s like I am almost in love before we even met. It’s that… something about it!
Well, you can’t be almost in love.
You can. Because there are always some reticences. Just before you throw yourself into it completely, you know…!
I actually don’t. I’m the one who feels everything or nothing.
The final “cheesecake” revealed to me the ultimate verdict on Raluca. Living between dream and artsy guilty pleasures, she wolf is a diseased character, in her final stage, of magic and burning hopes.
How old are you ? (she asks)
Many happy returns ! “Grandma” here!
Beautiful grandma’, taking pictures of her room, dreaming about Paris, and shit..
That’s a damn pretty thing you said.
I do that. I can say beautiful things and creepy awful things immediately after.
Magic! *Coldplay running in the background with their Magic. Magic, their song, if you’re not a fan!*
Not a fan, but I know it. And I would’ve guessed anyway, even without telling me. That’s how awesome I am.
Too cheesy for you, Mr. Awesome? Hm? Now you’re sketching up my little girl portrait while you “unwrap” me?
Don’t do that!
Do what? I ain’t doing a thing. Kidding! I didn’t mean to sound too cheesy, with all the dreams and everything.
Who cares about cheesy? It’s just a word. Be whatever you want to be!
Working on it. That’s a full-time job.
I can be cheesy too. I want to see the world from a van, to smoke and fuck women from wherever I get to. And meet old men who’d tell me old stories. And throw myself into mountain hidden lakes, and get into trouble and scarry caves. And drink cheap beer on the beach. And so on.
Well, I hope you’ll have at least a half from this cheesecake, Which is super-awesome, with lemon or blueberry on top. […] Look at us, trying to be witty smart-ass. Too soon for using that word?
Not necessarily. I mean, it doesn’t affect me in any ways.
Necessarily? I was so close to say something!
I dare you!
„It should’ve turned you on, at 25. The word”. My bad!
I’m immune. Words stopped turning me on long ago. The more you see, the more you need.
Got it. But not always. Sometimes, the more you see, the more the magic disappears and you feel disappointed and run away.