On The Verge
Few years after starting climbing concrete walls and riding freight trains, Kyiv-based urbex legend Yuriy Marmeladov still feels the same thrill about urban exploration.
Sifting through his ideas and sensations in a conversation with Spectrum, Yuriy discusses how his post-Soviet imprint affects his job, revisits some of his biggest achievements of 2021 and tries to explain what it feels like being on top of the world.
Q. Your actions look equally sick and insane. Where does this urgency to climb and always stretch your limits come from?
A. When I was about 15-16 years old I saw some crazy clips with guys climbing incredibly tall cranes, and I thought “nah, that’s impossible”. So I started with this urban climbing stuff, and I developed a strong addiction. I guess the mental process is pretty much the same as extreme sports: you take risks, and you’re happy with the result just when everything went exactly as planned. The idea is to push yourself harder and keep looking for new challenges.
Q. Your Instagram profile is filled with breath-taking pics and videos. What’s the 2021 achievement you’re the most proud of?
A. Looking back at this past year, I realize the freight train trip across Ukraine was something borderline impossibile. From the Carpathians to the Black Sea with my good friend Olf, right in the middle of summer when temperatures were really prohibitive; we stopped a few times at big stations to switch trains or buy some food, dreaming about that sunny beach that was supposed to be our final destination. I got out unharmed from many dangerous actions but, trust me, this was the most challenging trip I’ve ever been through.
Q. Of all your 2021 achievements, there’s a project that outstands all the others: the road trip across the Caucasus and Balkans. Can you describe the feeling of such a demanding trip? Would you do it again?
A. In that case I traveled from Kyiv to Caucasus with a friend of mine, before setting off for my solo trip to Berlin that took me a whole month. Briefly, a 5000km journey spent hitchhiking and sneaking onto cargo trains. When I finally reached Berlin I felt a completely different person due to the incredible amount of difficulties I had to overcome, and to the incredible persons I’ve been able to meet. Spending two month like this, out alone in Eastern Europe, teached me a lot about myself and my force of will. And yes, I would do it again since I just can’t respect myself when I’m wasting time. I have one life and one attempt to make the most of my time on this earth.
Q. How is train surfing similar to rooftopping? And how different?
A. As I said above, train surfing is the hardest and the most dangerous discipline I’ve ever tried; I would not recommend trying because I‘ve heard of a lot of bad stories about it. With building climbing you have control on more aspects and you can generally come up with better preparation. That said, what these urbex (short for Urban Exploration, ed.) have in common is their life-threatening nature: you can severely injure yourself, plus they’re illegal anywhere worldwide. I would compare train surfing with riding a motorcycle — quick actions, often unpredictable, and the ability of improvising can be crucial. On the contrary, rooftopping is more about strategy: days and days spent studying the building and identifying the entries, before an exhausting ascent that still demands attention and a cool head.
Q. Your ПОДОРОЖ fanzine starts with a Nietzsche’s quote: “who has a why to live for can bear almost any how”. Does this phrase represent your way of living somehow?
A. Definitely, because I’m not a regular person with regular hobbies. I was born and grew up in a typical post-Soviet family, without the possibility to enjoy normal things as in rich countries — and when I finally got them I realized they’re not my cup of tea. Normal living is so boring and tasteless, that’s why I’m always looking for new experiences. Life is too short to get bored.
Q. How hard it was to grow up in a post-Soviet country?
A. Ukraine became independent just in the Nineties, and since then it’s been constantly threatened by Russia, while widespread poverty harms our future and deprives society of hope. Living here is pretty tough: in 23 years I’ve seen two revolutions against pro-Russian crooked presidents, Russian occupation of Eastern territories, several economic crises and a pandemic. But we are proud people, we won’t let anything get us down. Have you ever heard of the claim “hard times make us stronger, good times make us weaker”? Perfect for Ukrainians.
Q. You recently started documenting and taking part in graffiti actions. How did you get close to this world?
A. Months ago some guys (SETO, KURT) asked me for help with tapes and videos of their actions, so that’s how my connection with graffiti really started. Plus I’ve known my mate Olf for a long life and during my trips to Berlin we often hang out with guys from 1UP and Berlin Kidz. However graffiti is still really underground in Ukraine, actually most people have a hostile attitude towards painting walls or trains, so we still have to work on the culture.
Q. Wall writings serve as a testament for graffiti writers. But you can’t climb something without taking photos: nobody would remember your effort. A. So how do you approach photography? How do you decide what to show on social media?
A. Photography is crucial because my adventures can live forever only through images and videos, really descriptive and free from every artistic ambition. My goal on social media is to make people appreciate the magnitude of my actions and swing something in the viewers. To be honest, when I started with urbex I was often under drugs — strain’s always a topic in such extreme situations. But those emotions were so intense that I had to share them with others.
Q. What’s next for Marmeladdov?
A. I have many interesting ideas for my upcoming projects, but in Ukraine it's quite hard to get money for unconventional projects. I’m working on this precise issue at the moment, and I hope I can solve these problems to deliver more slavik sh*t asap.