Daria Yurischeva

Born in 1986 in Syktyvkar, Komi Republic, Russian Federation, Daria Yurishcheva is an animator currently living and working in exile in France. After a brief career in financial journalism, she shifted her focus to animation, seeking a creative outlet away from the overwhelming influx of negative news.

Yurishcheva’s work reflects the increasing politicization of Russian animation. Influenced by her mentor, filmmaker and operator Taisiya Krugovykh, she participated in the 2018 film flash mob “List of Sentsov,” which created a series of short films about Ukrainian political prisoners in Russia. As the political landscape evolved, she and her peers became more vocal, penning an open letter in support of those involved in the “Network” case in 2020 and contributing to an animation anthology in support of “Memorial” in 2022.

Daria is a co-founder of the collective project “Animators Against War,” a network of a dozen animators dedicated to creating anti-war animation, which they compile into anthologies and distribute. They express their mission clearly: “We believe peaceful methods are the only answer in resolving any conflicts between countries. Everything that is happening right now in Ukraine is a horrible tragedy. There is no way to justify this terror the war has brought to peaceful Ukrainian people on our behalf. We urge to stop all the military action against Ukraine immediately! We demand Peace! We demand respect for the territorial integrity of Ukraine! We demand respect for human life in every country of the world!”

ARC Interview with Daria Yurishcheva

You are one of the co-founders of Animators Against War. Can you tell us how your organization started?

“Animators Against War” as a community of artists emerged on February 24, 2022, the day of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. It was an act or a cry of pain, a disagreement with Putin’s government, and a show of solidarity with the people of Ukraine. I should mention that Russian animation has seen collaborative animation projects before. When the wave of protests against election fraud by Alexander Lukashenko’s regime began in neighboring Belarus in 2020, Russian animators also united to support their Belarusian colleagues and join their protest. Personally, I had already participated in the “Sentsov’s List” project in 2018. At that time, the Ukrainian director Oleg Sentsov was in a Russian prison and on a hunger strike, and many Russian animators created and disseminated animated clips in his support. Furthermore, shortly before the full-scale invasion, Russian authorities shut down the oldest human rights organization and Nobel Peace Prize laureate, “Memorial.” We united once again to support them. In other words, I already had experience participating in similar projects.

Do you remember what exactly you did and who decided to support you?

I was so furious; I very clearly remember that my main emotion that day was rage. I now realize that before that day, I had some illusions—as if I couldn’t believe the start of a full-scale war. They were completely shattered on February 24th. From past experience, I know that collective action and solidarity are what help us hold on. I started with something simple and straightforward: I created a chat and told some fellow animators about it. Many of my colleagues joined immediately. Nadya Svirskikh, an animator and a member of our group, found a really good intuitive approach. She suggested that the clips needed to be made very quickly and very short. Because Nadya set such a short deadline, we managed to act fast, before laws introducing censorship for any critical statements about the Russian army were enacted. According to these laws, you could be fined or imprisoned even for calling the war a war (Russian authorities insist on calling it a “special military operation”).

At that moment, the overwhelming majority of participants in this chat and the “Animators Against War” group that emerged from it were women. I think it’s important to note that the face of the Russian anti-war movement is female and queer.

What do you think are the reasons for this?

I think it’s the nature of patriarchy, patriarchal societies, and laws. Men, generally speaking about the patriarchal majority and social patterns, don’t think about protesting—they’re preoccupied with commanding and marching. As for our project, I can confidently say we’re a professional group where women are the majority. Besides, we have projects that we do together with the Feminist Anti-War Resistance, which is also a women’s project carrying out extensive activist work. I find them truly remarkable.

How is Animators Against War organized, and what does your activity entail?

We have a core organizational team—four women and a non-binary person—who are consistently involved with the project. If we talk about animators who participate from time to time, we have about 200 participants. Thanks to this large number, we were able to produce the first three releases right away. We received short clips from participants, did the editing, sound design, and compiled them into almanacs. Then we distributed them on social media—primarily on YouTube and Instagram. The initial clips on Instagram gained a lot of views. We received significant responses: we gave interviews and were noticed not only in Russia but also abroad, with coverage in the press and social media. People who were already in exile helped significantly with dissemination since those of us in Russia couldn’t take such risks anymore. Under the new laws, you could be fined or arrested even for sharing or commenting.

At that time, you were still in Russia. Can you share what was happening with you?

I think there’s no point in talking about the rage, despair, and fear. That’s clear to anyone who was in Russia at that time. In Moscow, where I lived, there were anti-war protests. Open spaces were no longer available, exits from metro stations were closed, or barriers were placed there to prevent large crowds from gathering. Almost any spot in the center, any major street suitable for protests, was filled with helmeted special police units, police buses, and detention trucks. The protests were brutally suppressed, with people being snatched, dragged into police vans, and beaten even without any resistance from the protestors.

I was detained at one of these protests. I was arrested on March 6th, and almost immediately after that, the police began visiting my mother. They came several times, asking about me, and it was clear that staying was unsafe for me. I decided to leave. I just couldn’t imagine how I could stay. To stay meant either going to prison or remaining silent. I’m not brave enough to go to prison.

And as for remaining silent—that would have been an enormous and terrifying step backward for me. It’s important to understand that I’m a post-Soviet individual. I’ve spent more than half my life working through the trauma of the past—learning to speak, to open up, realizing that I have a voice and that it’s important, that it means something. As a citizen, as a woman, as a vulnerable person. If I had stayed, I would have had to relearn that Aesopian language again, to hide my voice for safety. With the help of the Atelier of Artists in Exile, I got a visa and moved to France, to Marseille. Without their support, I certainly wouldn’t have survived.

What challenges have you faced? In your opinion, what is the main difficulty for an artist in exile?

At the time of my departure, I wasn’t an established or renowned artist; I was an opposition animator. I think you understand that it’s not a profession that allows for savings or extensive connections abroad. I didn’t choose the country; I was ready to go anywhere that would grant me a visa. France is known as a country that’s not the easiest to adapt to. Moreover, only those who receive political asylum get a small support of about 500 euros per month. Those like me, who received a humanitarian visa, do not receive any assistance. Last summer, for two months, I had no money for food. For two months, I ate social food—so I now know that starving to death in France is quite difficult. But psychologically, it was very hard. I moved about 15 times.

What helps you to survive?

It used to be said that Russians abroad don’t cooperate or help each other—that other diasporas are built on mutual assistance but not the Russian one. It seems to me that in our generation and our wave of emigration, this has changed. We already knew about horizontal forms of support, understood how important solidarity is, so we are now learning to help each other.

We think the same way about the Animators Against War group. This project has several goals within its social mission. One of them is giving a voice to those from Russia. Even anonymously, this way animators who remain in the country also have the opportunity to work against the regime and against the war.

When we started, it was driven by a simple desire to stand against the war, to show our disagreement with this regime. But now the group has existed for three years. Enthusiasm is something that is difficult to maintain in the long term. We released 17 almanacs voluntarily. But animation is slow, time-consuming, meticulous, and very expensive in the end. We dream of starting to move towards gaining some institutional form to help artists from the Russian protest community.

By the way, the grant we received from ARC—we got it as a movement, with the project’s portfolio as our background. Although the grant was nominal, as I wrote the application and received the money since I already had a French bank account, I distributed small amounts to everyone involved in the project. I thought that would be fair. Recently, we participated in an accelerator and won a small grant for an animation about political prisoners, which is also very important for us. It helps us stay in the profession.

Artists are very vulnerable due to their profession. It’s been three years since the full-scale invasion and the emigration of many opposition artists from Russia. People, funds, institutions are tired of our theme. Even finding help for Ukrainians is getting harder and harder, let alone for the Russian opposition. But it’s important to me to say that none of us have managed to stand on our feet during this time. And we still need help.

And I hope that there will be a time when we can repay this debt.