"My songs are confessions of my diagnoses." Vivienne Mort discusses her new album, her lifelong struggle with depression, her grandmother's mottos, and her views on Russians.
About Grandma's Mottos
My grandmother has some mottos that she often repeats, and they've stuck with me. The more optimistic part of me has embraced these sayings. Grandma always says, "Today is a good day" and "Everything will be alright." These simple words are like a refrain for her. However, there’s also "Don't think about anything," which I try not to adopt because I already manage that without advice.
About the New Album
No one has said anything negative about it. There have been some comments expressing disappointment. I'm keeping track of them because I respond to them. But those comments were more about expectations that we would continue doing things as we used to, and we didn't meet those hopes.
This isn't our first album released in the internet age. We wanted to mark this moment (the album release) and thought it was important to gather friends.
I was nervous because it was the first time I was presenting the album, and it felt like revealing my innermost thoughts. Perhaps not diagnoses, but thoughts. No one writes these songs for me; I write them myself—reflecting on my experiences. This was our first experience of simply gathering people in a theater and presenting the cover to them, so they could literally watch the music without distractions. That's why there's such a mix of emotions, including the concern that it might be uncomfortable for them to leave so as not to offend the artists.
It’s not important for me that the listener understands the lyrics exactly as I do. I believe: for every pair of ears and listeners, there are as many interpretations of a single piece.
About the Creative Break
In 2020, we decided that we needed to part ways: when we started, we agreed that if the music didn't inspire us, it was better not to create it at all. I don’t want to be musicians who play the same song for the twentieth year, slightly altering it and passing it off as new.
With this album, we’ve entered a new era. The impetus came during the invasion when we realized that we exist, and there are listeners. By that time, we had already disbanded the group and planned to just live, find inspiration, and then come back together with new ideas. But we realized that we are stronger together. We traveled on two major European tours, as well as around Ukraine, and all of that accumulates resources that we give back.
About Creativity
Since I was 10, I have reacted to my experiences by writing songs. Creativity is something that cannot help but happen to me. Otherwise, I might have ended my life if I couldn’t express it. Because it’s much harder for me to articulate my thoughts in conversation. I never seriously considered whether it helps, because sometimes I write something and end up crying for a long time. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Maybe I should have shed just one tear, but instead, I sit and weep.
About Comments on Social Media
Our audience consists of people who wanted to find us and subscribed. Almost all of our comments are positive. Therefore, I constantly need to be self-critical, as otherwise, we may not develop at all.
For instance, when we appear somewhere, new people come along. Immediately, comments start pouring in: "The lipstick should be a different color." I sometimes find it amusing and write back: "Which one? What do you recommend?" They suggest a lighter shade, but then they apologize, saying, "Sorry if anything..."
Also, under viral videos, there are always many comments from strangers. Mostly, the avatars feature photos with marigolds and children. It starts with: "Who is this?" "What is this?" "What is she wailing about?" I received the most comments under the video where I sang a song by Nina Matviyenko. The day she passed away, I had a concert in Zhytomyr. As a child, I sang "Sila Ptakha" at competitions, and I wanted to perform that song at the concert that day. We posted the video, and it began: "No one can sing like Nina," "What is this crow screaming?"
About Inherited Depression
Several years ago, a specialist told me that I belong to the 7% of people with inherited depression—those who are born seeing everything in a gloomy light. But I am an extrovert. Because despite my dramatic view of everything, I still love people, socializing, and performing. I have always adored performing. I cannot be alone; I need to talk to someone.
About Attitudes Toward Russians
I don't feel pity for Russians. I have dehumanized them for myself. This happened because in the early days of the invasion, I was still writing songs addressed to them. I thought there were people there; I wasn't addressing some gray mass. I had hope. Remember, in those early days, there was hope that they would come out into the squares. It couldn’t be that they would just swallow everything and say, "Well, we don’t see what's happening."
Then it became clear. I don’t know what won out in them, but there was complete indifference. And it truly became a gray mass, and dehumanization happened on its own. Even before Bucha.
Initially, I read messages from Russians, from listeners, because we have listeners there. I remember one person constantly wrote to me: "I donated to your fund; we are with you, we are here, there are few of us, but we are hiding." The last thing I remember from him is that he sent me a video of himself spray-painting over the letter Z at night. I thought, "Goodness, go home, hero."
About Russian Culture
I have canceled it for myself. It was part of my life; I grew up with it. I remember Russian books from my childhood very well. And apart from Shevchenko, I hardly remember any Ukrainian literature. There are a few works that have stuck with me, like "The Yellow Prince," about the Holodomor. There are some specific flashes of memory, but I can’t say that while studying in a Ukrainian school, I learned about Ukrainian literature. We were just worked on; we were Russified.
Now, I’m finishing reading "The Gethsemane Garden" by Ivan Bahriany. It’s about our intelligentsia and all the people who were deemed undesirable by the regime and ended up in NKVD prisons, often crammed into solitary cells with 30 people. I’m currently trying to catch up on everything I haven’t read. And I’ll say that Ivan Bahriany is even better than Bulgakov.