Yulia Nikolaevna Klopova is a graduate of the A. L. Stieglitz Academy, where she now teaches at the Department of Art Ceramics and Glass. She combines teaching with active creative work: over the past three years, she has participated in seven exhibition projects, including "The Feeling of the City" at the Memorial Workshop of M. K. Anikushin in St. Petersburg, "Unity of Opposites" at the Milleart Gallery in Moscow, and "The Spirit of Ceramics — Jingdezhen International Ceramic Art Biennale" in China.
Yulia Nikolaevna’s solid theoretical background, practical experience, and flexible teaching approach attract the interest of even those students who are not enrolled in her classes. She is a lecturer who values each student’s individuality, constantly develops herself professionally and creatively, and channels this energy into the educational process — making it not only useful but also inspiring.

Could you please tell us about the courses you are currently teaching?

I currently teach an underglaze painting class for third‑year students. As you know, we teach students from the first to the fourth year, introducing them to various techniques so they can try everything out. Later in life, they will have the opportunity to apply these skills.

How many years have you been teaching?

I’ve been teaching for quite a short time. To be honest, I didn’t really want to do this at first because it’s hard work. Teachers are like saints — they give everything they have, everything they would like to do themselves, to their students in an effort to help and educate them. I never aimed to become a teacher — I didn’t want to reveal all my cards.
I only feel confident in what I know well. I’m good at underglaze painting, and when Alexander Vasilyevich Oleinik passed away, I took over his course. I’ve been teaching for about three or four years. Before that, I assisted with first‑year classes — mainly because the groups are large and it’s difficult for one person to handle them alone.

In a 2021 interview, you mentioned that initially there was no connection between you and drawing — you started doing art because your mother made you. However, things changed over time. Do you think it’s possible to teach someone art?

You can teach anything — as my dad used to say, you can even teach a bear to ride a bicycle. You can teach a craft and, I would say, an artistic vision. I believe there are a few people who are born geniuses. However, I think the most important thing is the ability to think in images and to imagine.

What do you think is the most important aspect of knowledge transfer? What should a student take away from their studies?

It depends on the student’s needs. We try to provide a technical foundation, but how the student uses it is up to them. Some want to become great artists and impress the world, to invent something new. Others are content with mastering a craft, and that’s fine too.
You always respond to the student — to how well they absorb what’s being taught. Everyone has different learning speeds and memory capacities.
There are things a student might understand later — that happened to me too. For example, I didn’t understand what Vasilkovsky was telling me in my second year. Like all students, I wanted a clear answer: what exactly should I do, where should I put that little squiggle? But it’s not about the squiggle — it’s about the meaning behind what’s happening.
In art, there are no strict rules — everything is based on feelings. I remember Vasilkovsky explaining something to me, and I didn’t get what he wanted from me. Then, at the age of 35, his words suddenly came back to me. I was shocked that 15 years later I finally understood what my teacher had been saying. But I think that’s great — at least I understood it; I could have never gotten it at all. The same happens with our graduates. It’s not necessary for someone to grasp everything right away.

We've touched upon the role of the teacher. What competencies should a lecturer possess?

A teacher must love children, people. They should probably have the ability to explain the material, as well as flexibility and psychological insight — because everyone is different, and students are different too. Some need the stick, others the carrot. We’re all sensitive, and so are the students.


It's interesting that a relaxed atmosphere prevails at our academy, creating a sense of safety.

But there’s also great discipline in that. It’s like in the profession of an artist — you can choose not to work, but then nothing will come of it. I don’t have days off — I love my work.

What does your teaching experience give you?

I’m very interested in what young people do, in understanding why some things are good and others are bad. I try to evaluate this for myself. Students represent new trends. I’m curious about how these trends emerge, develop, and become popular. There’s something different in young people’s minds compared to my own perceptions and ideas. And I can explore those minds without having to go anywhere — it’s a way of studying modernity.
Interestingly, the music our students listen to is the music of my time. Sometimes it seems I’m listening to more new music now than our students are. That’s curious.

So, does teaching help your own creative work?

Yes, of course — there’s always fresh blood. It’s incredibly interesting to watch them come in as first‑year students — all polished, with manicures and in dresses — and then, by the fourth year, they’re standing there in dirty slippers and robes, covered in clay. You see that they’re already entering the profession, that they love the material. I love seeing their eyes light up about something.

Finally, could you share your upcoming plans?

I recently had a project at NeNeMu. I have plans for an exhibition in Moscow next summer, and another one called "Other Textile", also in Moscow. In the spring, our department will celebrate its 70th anniversary at the academy. There will be an exhibition called "One Square Metre", and our departmental exhibition will also be held in the museum halls. So, I think there’s plenty going on.