From Moscow to Osaka, Timur Fork’s “plasticine realism” has been turning heads. In recent years, the Russian painter, who got his start in the street art world, has developed a unique specialty in works that capture the textures and colors indicative of the kid-friendly modeling clay known as plasticine. His scenes blur the lines of hyperrealism and surrealism while maintaining a joyful, childlike quality and have turned up on both building sides and canvases. A recent appearance in a group show at Bangkok’s Agni Gallery led to an invitation to produce his first international solo exhibition, which will take place in the fall of 2025.
The recognition has been a long time coming for Fork. At around the turn of the twenty-first century, the artist was deeply inspired by the graffiti that was beginning to pop up on Russian streets. “All I did was dream about inscriptions and characters on the walls of the streets,” he says. “I wanted the whole area to be covered with my tags and drawings.”
While Fork did learn to write graffiti, he also saw the limitations of painting covertly on the streets. “There were certain frameworks of the subculture, which, on the one hand, formed my style, but at the same time, did not allow me to deviate from the given rules,” he explains. “For example, that you must use only aerosol. For a very long time, I painted only with aerosol, did not use brushes, since there is simply no time for this when you paint illegal graffiti.”
Fork left his mark in Moscow, where he is based, as well as other cities, but in 2017, his life and his art changed course unexpectedly. When the artist fell while painting, he suffered a head injury that left him deaf in one ear. His convalescence was long—he spent about six months recovering in a hospital and at home—and prompted him to reevaluate his art. “I realized the value of family at that time, since my family supported me very much,” he says. “I realized that this whole ‘game’ is temporary, that there is very little meaning in my works, but a lot of aggression, that you need to strive for the internal content of the works.”
When Fork was able to paint again, he turned to canvas and describes these earlier works as quite minimalistic. “I painted them for myself to somehow express my emotions,” he says. “And I was surprised when my works started to be acquired. I was very surprised that the inner content could really touch someone.”
This was a revelatory moment for Fork. “I had never tried to make money with my art before. Street art was an outlet for me from the beginning,” he says. “I liked this party and being part of the game, that during the day I was in one role, and in the evening I was like a superhero, and that I had an alter ego with my name, which was everywhere. When you are young, having an alter ego is cool, but when you grow up, you don’t really advertise it.”
AND I WAS SURPRISED WHEN MY WORKS STARTED TO BE ACQUIRED. I WAS VERY SURPRISED THAT THE INNER CONTENT COULD REALLY TOUCH SOMEONE.”
