upcoming & recent events


Jan 31 – Feb 4, 2018 —  “Face value of cyber-war” — panel participant and co-organiser — transmediale festival: Face value, Berlin, Germany


field research

September 26 – October 10, 2017  |  Ukraine

1. Chernobyl & Pripyat

I traveled to the Chernobyl Zone of Exclusion again — this time with two guides: Oleksandr Syrota, a former resident of Pripyat, an eyewitness and a victim of the 1986 Chernobyl disaster, now the editor-in-chief of the internet project pripyat.com and the president of the International Public Organization Center Pripyat.com; and Oleksandr Rybak from the same organization, who specializes in the history of the Chernobyl-2, the Soviet radar system DUGA aka “Russian Woodpecker.” Coincidentally (and luckily!), on the way to the Zone we were joined by ecologist Denis Vishnevsky, the head of the radio-ecological monitoring group at “Екоцентр,” who has been monitoring the Zone for 17 years, from whom I learned a lot about wolves, rats, mushrooms and forests of the Zone, including a lot of info about the current chemical composition of the observed area. Here is one of the interesting interviews with him, “Life After Life: Cities Abandoned by Humans” – for those who read Russian.

The object Chernobyl-2, a Soviet over-the-horizon (OTH) radar system, aka “the Russian Woodpecker,” used as part of the Soviet anti-ballistic missile early-warning network that operated from July 1976 to December 1989.

First, led by Oleksandr R., we went inside the abandoned facilities of the Chernobyl-2 radar. Its intensely damp and drafty interior immediately made my throat sore, but the objects inside — all those remains of the Soviet super computer system — could keep one wandering through the rooms and corridors of the building, imagining this ambitious Soviet radio-location machine.

Our next stop was Pripyat, where the V.I. Lenin Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant is located. The construction of the power plant began on 15 August 1972. The city of Pripyat, founded on 4 February 1970 about 100 km from Kyiv, was not build yet and it was officially proclaimed a city only in 1979. So the plant was given its name after another city, Chernobyl, at the time, the closest big city. It is possible, too, that such decision was made in order to not draw the attention to Pripyat, the city of military importance, although, unlike other Soviet atomic cities, the access to Pripyat was not restricted.

Oleksandr S. gave us a tour around the remains of the glorious atomic Soviet city, the reversed symbol of “safe nuclear power.” Among other places, he took us to his abandoned apartment. He shared his concern that in spring, it might be already dangerous to enter this building and he would no longer be able to take people there: the architecture in the area have reached its 30-year life span — apparently, that’s how long this particular type of constructions can survive without care and central heating, open to the winds, snow, rain and marauders. On the way, we passed the building of the school that Oleksandr S. had attended before April 1986. Half of the building collapsed several years ago; the rest is the deterioration in progress.

Trees growing through the stairs of the school building.

The Zone as we know it today — that seems to be timeless, a surreal “frozen-in-time” or “future-in-the-past” scene such as that of the Pripyat amusement park known to many of us via too many youtube videos — is disappearing. To be more precise, it is transforming into something else, and it has been transforming for a while now — on its own speed, with its own rhythm. And while it still remains a visible reminder of the Soviet technogenic catastrophe, it might be a good moment to think about its meanings and pose new questions.

Inside the cinema theater Прометей (Eng: Prometheus).
The abandoned cinema theater Прометей (Eng: Prometheus) in Pripyat features one of the wonderful mosaics, this one by Ivan Lytovchenko, many of which can be still found in the city. More on the Soviet mosaics, see a just-published book, Decommunized: Ukrainian Soviet Mosaics (also, see here).
Me walking near another fantastic work of Ivan Lytovchenko, or what remains of it.


Across the river, you are looking at one of the major radioactive nuclear waste burial places.
With our stalkers and the abandoned radar on the background.

Photos by Oleksiy Radynski and myself.

2. Kamyanets-Podilsky

The Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral

Another project that brought me to Ukraine is the one on media-archaeology of a temple that in its previous lives used to be a church, a mosque, a cathedral, and a museum of atheism. One of the examples of such transformations is located in Kamyanets-Podilsky, my hometown: the Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral. The original building was erected in 1373, initially designed in Renaissance style, but in 1646-1648, it was rebuilt in Baroque style.

The “French” map of Kamyanets-Podilsky from 1691, the time when it was still under the Ottomans.

In 1672, during the Turkish occupation of these lands, the temple was transformed into a mosque — which it then was for 27 years, until 1699. As part of this transformation, a minaret was added to the building’s entrance. But after restoring its status as a Catholic cathedral, a gold stature of Virgin Mary was put on the top of the minaret.

As a Soviet child, I encountered this building when it was a museum of atheism. I have a very clear memory of how fascinated I was with it being a marvelous collage and collection of objects that you cannot normally see together. This is precisely what fascinates me until now.

The Dominican Monastery

Another curious example of the same cultural and religious collage that also bears the imprints of different epochs and styles is the complex of the Dominican Monastery in Kamyanets-Podilsky, located literally across the street from the Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral in our Old Town.


Just like the Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral, it was turned into a mosque during the Ottomans’ stay and inherited religious artifacts from that time. Among the preserved Islamic objects, there is a beautiful minbar, a pulpit from which the sermon (khutbah) is delivered. It is usually constructed in a form of a domed box at the top of a staircase that is reached through a doorway that can be closed, a common element of Islamic mosque architecture throughout the world.

In the Soviet times, this minbar was kept at the the Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral, when it was a museum of atheism and where I saw it for the first time, but recently the Pauline monks of the Dominican Monastery claimed it back to “complete” the Cathedral’s interior, where, they thought, it belongs. And it does so – beautifully.




As of August 1, 2017, I joined the School of Communication at Simon Fraser University as Assistant Professor of Critical Media Analysis. Honored and happy to become part of this wonderful community at the time of the School’s expansion.



June 12, 2017 | Following my comments for Hromadske TV (Ukraine) regarding Ukrainian President Poroshenko’s ban of the Russian social media (VK & Odnoklassniki) as well as Yandex and Mail.ru in Ukraine, Vitalii Atanasov asked to elaborate on some points made for Hromadske. This is a bit shortened version of our dialogue translated in Ukrainian and here is an English version. And a full version in Russian.

By implementing this ban, however, Ukraine is not different from other counties. Every government has realized by now that they have got a new animal in the political jungle. This animal reminds of the monstrous Thing from Carpenter’s horror – it is unruly, unpredictable, deadly.

The superior intelligence, it becomes us, learns from us and all about us, by parasiting the delicate network of our invisible relations, and then it absorbs us to nourish its non-human core. This social media monster “moves fast and breaks things” and the governments understand they have to survive in one space with it. They are all calculating now what is more beneficial and less risky for them to do: to burn this monster, tame it somehow, make human scarifies, or use it against the enemy. So, I guess, we will see all these scenarios. One is currently unfolding in Ukraine.

field research

August 21 – November 27, 2016  |  Ukraine & Georgia

The chilling beauty of the Cold War architecture: “Chernobyl 2” – the Soviet radar system DUGA aka “the Russian Woodpecker” (1976-1989). October 1, 2016


Photos by Anna Dolidze, Margret Grebowicz, Valentina Semenikhina, the Center for Urban History and myself.

Interviewed the legendary 95-year-old pioneer of the Soviet computer technologies Boris Malinovsky. We met in one of the smallest museums I’ve ever seen, the one dedicated to the history of comupetr science in Ukraine, organized and run by Malinosky himself and hosted at the House of Scientists in Kyiv. September 29, 2016



Interpassive User: Complicity and the Returns of Cybernetics – Fibreculture Journal 25 (2015)

The essay explores the notions of “extension” and “prosthesis” as two different logics of being with technology. I trace the distinction between them to the work of McLuhan influenced by both Norbert Wiener and Buckminster Fuller. I argue that the logic of softwarization (Manovich, 2013) is similar to the logic of extension; while the logic of appification (IDC, 2010) is similar to that of prosthesis. The former is the logic of metonymy, while the latter is the logic of metaphor. I explain why such distinction is useful for reading mobile / social apps and the new practices they enable. I conclude by raising the questions about users’ enthusiasm and complicity within the bio-technological cybernetic assemblage.

Cinema for A Missing People: Gilles Deleuze’s Crystal Image and Alexander Dovzhenko’s Zvenyhora – Harvard Ukrainian Studies 32-33, no. 1-4 (2015)

The essay discusses Dovzhenko’s 1928 film Zvenyhora, which Deleuze uses in a second book of Cinema to illustrate his notion of the crystal-image of time, the only film made before the WW2 among many examples of the time-image that Deleuze generously offers in this volume. I also read Zvenyhora as an instance of minor cinema, with all the potential of the minor attributed to it by Deleuze and Guattari in their work Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature and others text written separately and together.