Anna Radchenko, Kokosmos

On April 12th, Russia celebrated something called Cosmonautics Day. Commemorating the very day that Yuri Gagarin achieved First Man in Space status, in 1961. I know, Cosmonautics Day is now weeks behind us, but a debut venture into the great unknown is always something to tip your hat to.

In timely fashion, award-winning photographer, Anna Radchenko, released her own innovate project into the atmosphere – this time around in the form a two minute experimental film. Kokosmos is an extraordinary mini-adventure. One whose depth and vibrancy kind of transcends the notion of film space and running time.

Now, I know very little about the extent of Russia’s historical space crusades, but like many of us, I am armed with the basics. The world famous astronauts and development of their science fiction films offer an abstract backdrop for Kokosmos, but this is essentially in a universe of its own.

Originally from Russia, Moscow to be precise, Radchenko now lives in London. After becoming a MA Fashion Photography graduate from the London College of Fashion, she now dabbles in making short films, including music videos and commercials. Kokosmos, alone, also demonstrates the filmmaker’s flourish with mixed media.

Watching Kokosmos in real time is tricky. It is better viewed in a part of the universe that brings time almost to a stand-still. That is, so you can appreciate, interpret, feast on, every single vivid moment. I watched it three times over before I could even begin to comprehend each image that was thrust upon me.

A rotating pink crystal, ascending astronauts in a sparse forest, and jellyfish, reministcent of beating hearts in their upward motion. The juxtaposition of these very early images make sense somewhere deep down in your subconscious. We may never really know, though.

The unusual visuals of eyes – a recurring emblem – one basketball-sized eye between floating hand, controlling the eye’s direction. Or the half face of little eyes, clustered together like creatures on sea rocks. It’s kind of a sumptuous double-take moment. One of many.

Kokosmos is a kaleidoscope of surreal imagery. An undefined human-alien woman (model, Yana Dobroliubova) undergoes a perplexing transition. The expressions on her face grow more animated as the seconds soar by. Until the very end when she practically screams out of the screen.

The colours are so conflicting, they transpire to be both enticing and bewildering. A solar system of orbiting planets around the human heart. Or the slimy, glowing snail slouching on human flesh. The body appears to deconstruct itself, with little planets drifting out of eye sockets as though tears suspended without gravity.

As fascinating as the short film is, it is constantly unsettling. And this is no doubt delibarate, and certainly not a bad mark from this reviewer. Music and sound design marry on a turbulent, brief ride, with editing so frenetic there is no time to stop for breath. There’s a lot to be said, too, for the make-up, styling and some funky visual effects – all contributing to a stream of relatively brain-scrambling scenery.

It is a beautiful film, though. The depth of photography is extraordinary, this looks and thus feels like a dream you struggle to describe with mere words. Director of photography, Roman Yudin, captures the untouchable void of the universe with the collage of illuminating images. When I say universe, I mean both the one way up there, and the one in our heads.

The passionate kiss, that divides the film’s two minutes between the weird serenity and the schizophrenic energy, is a sensual thrill. The orb, glowing neon, passing between the female mouths, coating the sphere in saliva, where your mind has already assumed its a planet.

Director Anna Radchenko might be immersing us with some themes of Russian socialism and the expansive nature of space, but in her bold, creative execution, there’s a far-reaching exploration of culture and imagination. Kokosmos disarms your senses so that they are at their most vulnerable, only then do the varied sensations hit you. One after the other, after the other.