Our readers often wonder how Far Eastern fashion magazine, Sobranie Exclusive, gets access to all of these interviews with world-renowned artists, who proudly call themselves legends of a time? There is no secret at all. Sasha Korbut, our stringer and rising star in journalism, is making it happen.

Text: Yulia Udovenko Photography: Jeong Park

You business card says Sasha Korbut, journalist. What would you write on your personal card, not for business, but for life?

Human being. I think it’s the best description of myself and my personal identification. Speaking seriously, I have been thinking for a long time about how I would lable/describe myself: artist, journalist, writer. I decided that I can’t call myself a journalist.  My understanding of a journalist is a person, who informs and tell the news. In my case, I just talk to people thus I call myself an interlocutor.  But there is no such a profession as an interlocutor. Therefore I call myself a journalist merely to save time for explanation and despite the fact that I graduated from the faculty of TV/radio journalism from Far Eastern Federal University (FEFU) in Russia and received a masters degree in Communications in Spain.

By the way, how did you get to Spain?

At the end of my studies in FEFU I started to develop “claustrophobia” – the city of Vladivostok started to be too small for me. Not that I dislike my hometown; absolutely not. I am still in love with Vladivostok. The thing is, during my studies at the University in Russia I constantly traveled abroad – I went to the U.S., China, I lived  in South Korea and  in the Canarias Islands.  I am sort of a nomad who always has a necessity to move forward. At the time I studied Spanish and decided to go to Spain.

To go for what? What did you expect to find there?

Nothing. It was a inner instinct – my instinct of moving forward.  Have you seen the movie, Last King of Scotland? In the movie, the main character after graduating college did not know where to go. He just turned the globe, stopped it with one finger and chose the place his finger landed on. I did not turn the globe, but to be honest, I did not care where I went. I just wanted to leave the city. That’s how I got to Valencia, Spain.

How did your parents take your decision? Did they realize that, basically, you would end up leaving the city forever.

I am trying to be very careful with words like forever and never – it’s all relevant.  Plus, to leave forever would mean for me to move to one or another country for good. But I did not plan to move to Spain permanently; same with New York – I’ve been living here for three years but it does not mean it’s forever. My parents took my decision calmly and wisely. Obviously, they want me to stay next to them but they were understanding that I needed to move forward.

Did you continue your studies in Valencia?

Yes, I studied both communications and contemporary dance. In general, both professions are always intertwined in my life. There were times when I dedicated more time to dance and less to journalism and vice versa.  In terms of living in Valencia, dance became a job for living. I started to work at an artistic agency and was dancing in a small musical production travelling around little Spanish villages. On the weekend I was dancing at the night clubs, as I previously did in Vladivostok. I barely had any free time, my classes at contemporary dance school were from 10 am to 4 pm, and then I went straight to university until 9 pm. I was coming home around 9:30 and could barely stand on my legs. And then, on the weekends, I was also dancing in clubs. Surprisingly though, I could always find some time for meeting with friends, a few quiet conversations and rest. Those element were necessary to keep me cheerful and alive.

Sounds like a perfect life, doesn’t it?

Depends on what “perfect” truly means. Perhaps it’s a necessary amount of comfort that everyone needs. I was studying at one institution, after that I was going to another one and was working on weekends – perhaps for an artistic person it is an ideal life. But was it perfect for me? I guess not. I wanted more time for rest and better economical status. The time and energy that I was spending for work and studies did not match the amount of money I had. In other words, I was poor. I clearly remember how I was counting cents in order to buy coffee. Sometimes I had 50 euros for the whole week and I had to split that little amount of money in order to buy basic groceries, chocolate, which is extremely important for me, and cups of coffee at the university cafeteria, because I was always sleepy and depleted. Does that sound ideal to you? I guess not.

What were your internal feelings at that time in your life?

It’s obvious that outside circumstances fully affect our internal mood; they are connected. Ideally, we have to learn how to separate them, but the reality is that if you drink cheap tasteless coffee in the morning instead of fresh espresso just because you can’t afford it, I doubt that you’ll be in a good mood for the rest of the day.

So, you are saying that you are against the unwritten rule that a true artist has to remain hungry?

And who said that is right? Someone created this postulate and people blindly follow it. I think you always have to question yourself- isn’t it true that…? I am convinced that is not so. Deficit brings discomfort. I don’t want to live suffering. I don’t believe in the stigma that in order to create pure beauty, an artist has go through suffering. Recently I was listening to a lecture about Marina Tsvetaeva (a Russian famous poet) and in the middle of the lecture there was an interesting statement, “in order to create a masterpiece, an artist has to go through the inner apocalypses.” Not necessarily.  It’s just one of the ways to achievement, but not the only one.

After leaving Valencia, you came to New York...

Yes, New York City became my next destination, but hopefully will not be the last one. However, I can feel how I am gradually spreading my roots, creating a sort of family around me. My love grows with time. The more I am here the more positive things I see around me. I think that’s what keeps me connected to the city. I have not ever left New York for more than two weeks so I can’t say if I wouldn’t be able to live without this city. However, every time I travel somewhere, on the third day I start to miss my favorite coffee shop, my favorite bakery and croissants, people I want to see and places I want to go. Without any doubt, I would love to continue my nomadic lifestyle, however, New York has become a big part of my life and I think I have become a big part of this city.

Is it a good or bad feeling?

It’s both. I am trying to stay away from the routine, but it constantly follows me.  My dance background is a big proponent for this. For me personally routine is the end: you are not going by spiral (meaning growing), you are just walking around doing the same things. So to stay at the same place means to me to be married to routine. On the other hand, with time I feel much more grounded. I finally want to settle down, create my own nook where I always can come back.  And this nook is going to be surrounded by people I love and care about. I hope I will find a common ground between creating my home and my own place and being able travel and leave the house whenever I feel like I need to.

Is New York a good place for that? What was your original expectation for New York and how did it match the reality?

I came to New York City to study at Joffrey Ballet School under full scholarship so my expectations were pretty clear. I was dreaming of being on Broadway, meeting Michail Baryshnikov, joining one of the best dance companies and traveling around the world. But at the end of the first year my priorities and goals dramatically shifted. I realized that I will never become a great dancer. Although there was no goal to become “the greatest”, I just wanted to enjoy an artistic career. Nevertheless I started to feel that my expiration date as a dancer was quickly running out. I physically could not handle intense rehearsals and hours of trainings, I got injured easily. It became obvious that I would have to stop professionally dancing very soon. Another reason that I felt my expiration date was approaching was that I missed mental work. Roughly saying, in dance worldly brain work is very limited by learning choreography and counts. Those limitations made me feel uncomfortable; I felt like someone tightened my brain and I wanted to release it. That’s when I started to write. Communications helped me to morally, mentally and intellectually escape from dance and allowed me to professionally talk not only with dancers, but with many other artists.

Didn’t you find any common subjects with dancers?

We had very little common points of interests. Dance is a very narrow planet, at some point. And many dancers, not all, but many are completely indifferent to what’s going on in the rest of the world besides dance. They are fully dedicating themself to their craft, going deeper and deeper to the point when the rest of the world seems to blur. This is just my personal observation. Today I was watching the TV show “White studio” where the guest was the Russian actor, Michail Efremov. The host asked him why he did not create the theatre as his father did and he said, “I could have, but I decided not to do it. There was nothing as important as theatre to my father. He sacrificed everything. I could not do that.” I concur. I can’t sacrifice everything for dance and dedicate all of myself to one thing. The world is big and diverse. How can I stick to one thing only?

Was it easy for you to part with dance?

It was a hard decision; the day I made the choice I realized that I would have to cut off 23 years of my life that I dedicated to dance. I got scared. I asked myself if everything that I’ve done was in vain. I started to wonder – faith brought me to America, to one of the most prestigious schools of ballet, and when you are about to graduate you realize that it’s just not your thing. Sounds funny, right? And I asked myself, “What is next?” I still don’t know the right answer, but I know that it’s better to face the reality at 27 rather than at 72.  It seems that all the experience I got is gradually transiting to my interviews with the artists, including dancers. The questions that I asked myself about life, dedication, and vacation I am now addressing to them.

I noticed that many questions you ask to celebrities have some personal doubts.  

All my questions come from curiosity, soul searching, and self-discovering. Mostly I ask questions that I myself am looking for the answers to. And I sincerely want to hear their opinions on one or another thing. For example, all my life I could not figure out what talent was. Mher Khachatryan, an Armenian artist that I recently interviewed had told me, “Talent is what you truly want to do and in what you mostly invest your energy. It’s not what you were born with. It’s what you want to dedicate your life to.” For me, that was the answer.

Do people surprise you often?

Yes. And I hope they will continue surprising me. They usually surprise me with their talent and beauty. That’s why I choose not only celebrities as my guests for interviews. I am very interested in start-up artists as well. I feel that it’s important to give them a chance to be seen. I know what it means to be unrecognized, unknown. And I’ve seen a lot of artists that simply did not have a chance to be publicly seen.  I truly believe that those types of artists also have something important to say to the world.

One of your last interviews was with Sergey Esenin’s son – Alexander.

Yes, but it remained unpublished. I am not ready to share it with the rest of the world. Something has changed inside of me since this interview. Alexander Esenin is a scientist, poet, and a politician. He lived a very eventful life. He contributed a lot to the country and we should proudly refer to him as one of the most important figures in the history of the Soviet Union.  And when you realize what this person went through and you are looking into his eye and see pure indifference….it’s scary. It feels like a quiet shiver, if you can call a shiver “quiet.”

I wrote an article about it. I might publish it in a few years, if I feel ready. But so far I don’t see who could read it literally and between lines. This meeting was so personal and so important and so life changing that I am not ready to share it. It really impacted me. I entered his room as one person and exited completely different. We barely talked with each other; it was a conversation without words. He made me think a lot.  At first, he made me think that life is a game and we are here to play. That’s all there is to it. Let’s not forget about it.

August, 2015