One can postulate that there are two edges to Synchrodogs’ work.
The first and most obvious is the crushing and squashing of the human. Bodies are fragmented, shrouded, or practically buried under dirt, rocks, and sand. This could illustrate a return to our roots, our primitivity, being sent back to nature if the shots did not seem to picture such a struggle. The subjects often seem to be suffocating, gasping for air. The models’ poses are tangled, tense, and tormented.
In the midst of this chaos, we can note a desire to dream, to marvel, to escape. The second side of Synchrodogs’ work is one of elevation. In many of their photographs, there is something that’s left to flicker, to shine, sometimes even blindingly. Bodies are almost weightless, as if they are levitating. The subject finally seems to be in harmony with its surroundings, a beautiful and delicate communion between man and nature.
These two aspects however paradoxical seem to coexist rather than be mutually exclusive. A certain tension is palpable. Above all, we can find a drive to make it out of here, to succeed, and this in spite of obstacles, difficulties or hardships linked to our origins and upbringings (this is particularly true for the series with Misha Koptev in the ghetto of Lugansk). There is a certain beauty in humankind’s fragility, vulnerability, and struggle. Through Synchrodogs’ work, we clearly realise how grand and majestic nature is and how insignificant we as a species are in comparison.