LESIA PCHOLKA


Lesia Pcholka is a visual artist born in Belarus, currently lives and works in Berlin/DE and Bielsk Podlaski/PL

Curator of the VEHA archive platform, which is dedicated to researching and preserving vernacular Belarusian archival photography.

Pcholka’s practice brings together archival methods, collective memoriesy, and historical continuities to show explore how the past shapes contemporary life in Belarus and beyond. Through photography, video, and installation, she explores the tension between official narratives and undocumented histories, focusing on voices often silenced. Her work situates Belarus within a broader comparative frame, tracing parallels with other authoritarian contexts while also probing spaces of resistance. Exile sharpens her attention to displacement, belonging, and fragile memory, while gender perspectives inform her sensitivity to embodied experience and power. By mobilizing community archives and approaches in experimental storytelling, Pcholka creates layered narratives that move between personal and political, private and collective — reimagining how histories can be remembered and resisted.


PČOŁKA / PCHOLKA / PCZOŁKA


on view : 

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INVISIBLE TRAUMA  

photos of protesters taken with masks on Instagram, interview  



Weakness Street. Günter Grass Gallery / 2022. Gdańsk, PL

CANCAN BIENNALE #1
Espace Saint-Nicolas / 2025. Coutances, FR




Echoes. ECLAT Hybrid Festival
 / 2022. Stuttgart, DE 

During protests and revolutions, the global media tends to document only the most obvious forms of violence, such as bruising and torture. Meanwhile, the emotional consequences of state terror often remain go unspokenunaddressed. In these horrific accounts, quieter, more mundane forms of oppression are often regularly overlooked;, such these include a state of as constant fear, paranoia, helplessness, and the absence of safe spaces when living under a repressive regime. This constant pervasive threat creates trauma that, because it is invisible, is considered less urgent even though it shapes daily life and is one of the regime’s primary tools of control and suppression.

As the state of absenceunseen toll is difficult to visualise, I use employ one of the symbols of the 2020 protests in Belarus: a blank sheet of paper. This symbol emerged during demonstrations against election fraud after the Belarus’ historic white-red-white flag was declared extremist. In response, people began placing blank sheets in their windows. Even this simple gesture could lead to arrest. The white paper later became a symbol of protest in China as well; the 2022 protests became , known as the ‘'A4 Revolution.’' in 2022 — named after the blank A4-sized paper held by protesters. Although the Chinese protests were sparked by different reasons  — namely, a reaction to the authorities’' strict ‘'zero-Covid’' policies involving barricading entire neighbourhoods and banning people from going outside — at their core, they shared the same frustration: an inability to express dissent in the ways available in democratic societies.

As part of the project Invisible Trauma, I collected stories and photographed respondents in collaboration with thea Ukrainian human rights advocate Katya Pomazanaya. But when traditional methods of documentary photography became too dangerous, we turned to the digital space. Using a blank sheet of paper on glass as a metaphor for silence and erasure, we created an Instagram filter (masking the face with a white paper) and a Telegram chatbot for anonymously gathering stories. I no neither photograph participants or nor meet them in person. Instead, we Pomazanaya and I built a space where people can take a photo and share their story safely and anonymously. For a time, this method enabled people to continue protesting — to express themselves publicly without fear of detention thanks to their anonymity.