The Colour of Pomegranates: How a Soviet-Era Art Film Changed the Way I Use Symbols

The first time I watched The Colour of Pomegranates, I had no idea what I was looking at. There was a man dressed as a book, a bleeding pomegranate and not a whole lot of words. It was confusing, kind of like staring at a dream you half-remember but can’t explain. I watched the whole thing in one go and ended it knowing exactly as much as I did when I started…nothing. But there was something about the visuals that was so striking, I couldn’t stop wondering what it all meant. 

The film was made in 1969 by Armenian director Sergei Parajanov, and it tells the life of the poet Sayat-Nova, but not through plot or dialogue. Through image, colour and symbols.  What sort of makes the film unbelievable, is how many topics and ideas are conveyed without anything being said. Whilst the film is technically the story of Sayat-Nova, it is also the story of Armenia - its beauty and its tragedy. Unsurprisingly, it was deeply censored by the Soviet regime. Parajanov wasn’t even allowed to say the poet’s name and was forced to change the film’s title to ‘The Colour of Pomegranates.’ So instead of saying anything directly, he turned to the symbolic. This made a lot of sense to me. As someone born in a post-Soviet family, I grew up understanding that you can’t and shouldn’t always say what you mean. Actually, the safest truths are often the most disguised.

The Black Sea video is probably the clearest example of how Parajanov and his use of symbols inspired me. In my Black Sea music video, I used:

1. A veil to represent the censorship and self-concealment that artists (and people) lived with in the USSR
   

2. Sunflowers - the national flower of Ukraine, a symbol of resilience in wartime
   

3. Red ribbon draped through trees to represent bloodlines and ancestry
   

4. Traditional costume: a real Ukrainian vinok and vyshyvanka, worn to honour my family’s history

I also started wearing symbols. Brooches of sunflowers, firebirds, and roses reflect my heritage from Ukraine, Russia, and England; an amber bracelet nods to the Baltics; and my infamous gloves symbolise the transition from my everyday self to me as the performer.

​​One of the lines in The Color of Pomegranates that has stayed with me is:  “We were searching for ourselves in each other.” That line hit me deeply. As a musician and storyteller, I’m constantly searching for myself in others. In art, in films, in music, in strangers and in the faces of people I love. I think that’s what symbolism is for me - it’s a mirror. It lets me explore identity without always saying things directly.  

In post-Soviet art, the use of symbols wasn’t just poetic. It was necessary. Artists like Parajanov, encoded their truths in metaphor because they had to. And funnily enough, decades later, I find myself doing the same. Of course, it would be delusional to try and compare the fear of living in Soviet censorship to how I feel living today in Britain. It’s not even close to being the same. But it does lead to a deeper and more crucial question, are we really free? This is a question I return to many many many times in my music. I don’t have an answer and probably never will. 

Artists these days still end up self-censoring, polishing, simplifying. Not always out of fear of the government but out of fear of each other. Of the algorithm. Of the internet’s obsession with quick click bait content. It’s easy to judge life in the USSR, but perhaps we've just traded one kind of censorship for another. I wonder what Parajanov would think about that. So… I’ll leave you with the same thought:

How free are you really?

Thanks for reading, and for being curious.