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Portraits. Fashion. Still-life.

Ivan Bideac is a photographer living and working in Brooklyn, NY.

Worked for Condé Nast, Michael Kors, Bonobos, Casamigos, Gap etc.

Available for Editorial, Advertising and Personal Commissions.

studio@ivanbideac.com

Instagram: @bideac

 

      I was born in 1986, Chisinau, Moldova (USSR back then). Every time the year of my birth gets mentioned around my mother - she would add "the baby of Chernobyl", reminding to everybody about nuclear catastrophe that happened that year, 350 miles from our home. 
It was a pretty rough time for our country in 90s, so unfortunately during my childhood TV wasn't always an option how to spend my free time - either boring TV channels in languages I didn't understand, or they had maintenance "profilactica" when channels didn't stream during certain hours of the day, so equipment can "rest" I guess, or my parents were asking to keep it off to save electricity, so we don't have to pay expensive utility bills.

       As a kid I was dying from boredom, and the only option to entertain myself was going through a long shelf of books. Of course I didn't read them, but I was a big fan of all photographs and illustrations, I loved books about traveling and animals (I would skip pages with sharks and snakes though, even glued them together). 
But my favorite books were dedicated to famous museums and galleries, sometimes artists. Two books were my top choice: Dresden Gallery, with its beautiful nudes and sculptures (what a shock for me it was to discover that all these paintings were in color, as in USSR a lot of art books were in black in white), and second favorite was soviet photojournalist Dmitri Baltermants with his famous WWII photographs. I've spent days going through these books back and forth.
When I was 7 I even opened my own "curated" exhibition. While my mother was visiting her friend and father was watching TV, I took my favorite edition of "Dresden Gallery", and using small green scissors in shape of a bunny, I cut out my favorite pages and using mothers face cream attached them to the walls underneath the tables. For some reason, I was assuming nobody will notice and I can enjoy my permanent exhibition of tasteful nudes, without a need of flipping through pages of that heavy book. That was the day when I realized that my parents don't share my love for art, I was punished, books were confiscated and hidden and I am still not sure where they are. 

      After this incident, I started enjoying more my family's photo archives. Since a friend of my father was a photojournalist, he would gift different prints to us, shoot our friends and relatives, give us copies of some photos that were printed in local newspapers. Now I can tell that he was good, and I loved all these black and white photos, especially portraits of people I didn't know, and sometimes I would assume that those people are my long distance relatives, and I would imagine their names, and professions and how their paths of life were different from ours etc. Since then I've always enjoyed to spend time looking at someone's family photos from last century, especially when photos are not so perfect in composition, slightly out of focus, somebody blinked, but emotions are always the most natural and very real.