Victoria Bulgakova

I grew up in a Soviet Ukraine, where all girls had to wear identical uniforms to school. The only way we could express individuality was through our white collar that we had sewn onto our uniform dresses. Collars were mandatory. We could choose our own fabric but it had to be white and had to be confined to specific parameters. Jewelry and accessories were not allowed.

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I hated those uniform collars (or so I thought). In reality they were beautiful, and even within imposed limits there was a myriad of possibilities: satin, silk, lace, macramé… But I detested the concept of a uniform. And those stressful Sunday nights when right before falling asleep I suddenly remembered my collar was dirty and I had to sew on a new clean one.

 

Fastforward 30 years. When I think of childhood, I miss that uniform dress and the collars so bad.

 

The Uniform body of work is the exploration of that turbulent relationship, oscillating between frustration, nostalgia, dreams,  reflection, romance, confinement, rebellion, and… love.