Obituary: Marlen Scandal - Between Mask, Reality and Truth
A friend, an artist, a seeker. Memories of Sasha - and the magic of Marlen Scandal. Text 09.2025, Pictures 2018-2021, Pit Buehler
It was a gentle spring day in Kyiv, almost ten years ago, when I met Sasha for the first time. He didn't come to the photo studio alone, but accompanied by his girlfriend, his muse - he, a young, attractive man, with an equally attractive woman at his side. A transformation took place before my eyes that still touches me today: Sasha became Marlen Scandal, a character straight out of a fantasy book, a drag queen who took over the stage and space as if he had always belonged there, as if this was the place where he could truly be himself.
I was fascinated by the energy of this transformation, the ease with which he changed roles, and at the same time by his warm, open manner. Even then, I sensed that Sasha was never just about make-up, costume and glamor. His play with identities was a struggle - torn between different personalities, different lives. He could laugh, listen, pay attention, with an honesty that is rare and authentic. And the pictures we created back then reflected exactly that: dramatically set light, often in the tradition of Rembrandt light, staged and at the same time intimate, pictures that were more than portraits - they were little plays, frozen in a single shot.
Our encounters continued. On my next visit, he organized a club in the heart of Kyiv, which for one night became less of a photo studio and more of a stage, a theatrical space full of expectation. I brought a professional setup, photo assistants and make-up artists, and hour after hour the room filled with characters: Drag queens, dominatrices, models, snake dancers, war veterans, ballet dancers, fire-eaters, protagonists from the LGBTQ community, transgender personalities. And always Sasha: sometimes as a diva, sometimes as a silent observer. He put himself in the spotlight, only to leave it to others immediately afterwards. He staged himself, yes - but his greatest happiness was when others were allowed to shine.
It was typical of Sasha that he always thought of me too. Once he insisted on inviting a strong, massive masseuse to the shoot - Olga - who kneaded me for half an hour. I resisted, I was embarrassed and afraid of this force. But looking back, I had to smile: it was good, it was surprising, absurd, almost grotesque - and typical Sasha. He wanted the others to feel good. That I also felt cared for, valued and relaxed.
That's how our friendship grew. Every time I visited Kyiv, he became a fixed point in my agenda. He brought people together, opened doors, created spaces in which everything seemed possible. Some of our pictures later found their way into an illustrated book. When I gave him a copy, he was proud, almost childishly happy. I promised him a personal dedication. That was never to happen.
The war came - my trips to Ukraine had to be put on hold. We stayed in touch sporadically, short messages every now and then, small signs of life, questions about how he was doing. Sasha was always positive, optimistic, even though I knew that his health was not good. His liver was badly damaged and he urgently needed a new one. It was a race against time. Today I found out that Sasha lost this race.
It's hard to think that Sasha is no longer here: that there will be no more photo shoots together, no more long nights in dimly lit bars, no more karaoke in a crowded underground club. Sasha was many things at the same time: a diva, a vulnerable boy, a friend, a seeker. Sometimes he seemed quiet, thoughtful, almost lost - and then again he was bursting with energy, as if he wanted to take the world by storm.
Perhaps that was precisely what made him special: oscillating between roles, between strength and vulnerability, between pose and truth. There was a knowledge of the fragility of the moment in him - and at the same time a will to inscribe this moment with an incomparable glow.
He leaves behind a gap. But also memories: Conversations, encounters, pictures. But above all, what remains between the pictures: that glow. Take care, Sasha. Take care, Marlen.