BETWEEN WORLDS
These works are gathered into a notional cycle that represents a state of radical life change linked to the period of adaptation after relocation. Having left my native country and found myself in a new context, there inevitably arose a need to define the position from which I now look at the world and attempt to describe it.
A strange new life.
On December 29, 2022 — taking only the bare essentials and with no plan for what would come next — I left Ukraine. I spent a few months in Warsaw, moving between temporary living spaces. When I finally rented an apartment, it turned out I had received a visa for the UK — and the moving continued.
The euphoria of London was mixed with a strange sense of nomadism. Here too, I changed several flats and studios, so living “out of a suitcase” became a way of existing.
Since my artistic practice is directly connected to my life, I worked with themes of spontaneity, unplanned movement, displacement, and the “closeness” that remained in Ukraine — or was lost forever because of the war.
Over time, it became clear that I, like many others in similar situations, live in a state of being “stuck between worlds.” The war goes on. Our status remains uncertain. We are like bubbles in the air. Nothing can be planned.
A strange new life.
On December 29, 2022 — taking only the bare essentials and with no plan for what would come next — I left Ukraine. I spent a few months in Warsaw, moving between temporary living spaces. When I finally rented an apartment, it turned out I had received a visa for the UK — and the moving continued.
The euphoria of London was mixed with a strange sense of nomadism. Here too, I changed several flats and studios, so living “out of a suitcase” became a way of existing.
Since my artistic practice is directly connected to my life, I worked with themes of spontaneity, unplanned movement, displacement, and the “closeness” that remained in Ukraine — or was lost forever because of the war.
Over time, it became clear that I, like many others in similar situations, live in a state of being “stuck between worlds.” The war goes on. Our status remains uncertain. We are like bubbles in the air. Nothing can be planned.
By “stuck,” I mean: yes, we are here — but for now, this can hardly be called a normal life. And yet we are not there — but the constant stream of news from Ukraine creates the feeling that we are still there. The surreal state of being “somewhere in between,” or even “in both worlds at once.”
A prolonged transit in which the journey itself starts to dissolve reality — like a multi-layered dream where you think you’re waking up, only to find it’s just another layer of sleep. And sometimes you really do wake up, but drift back into a doze because it’s impossible to know when there will be a stop — or where this train is even going.
For now, I make no claims about destinations. All these works aim to do is capture a period of life in a state of “in-between.”
Fragments of a Ukrainian past, details of a London present, and a gaze into an extraordinarily blurred horizon. It’s a good thing painting has the unique ability to contain the past, present, and future — and, to some extent, turn them into a kind of timelessness.
A prolonged transit in which the journey itself starts to dissolve reality — like a multi-layered dream where you think you’re waking up, only to find it’s just another layer of sleep. And sometimes you really do wake up, but drift back into a doze because it’s impossible to know when there will be a stop — or where this train is even going.
For now, I make no claims about destinations. All these works aim to do is capture a period of life in a state of “in-between.”
Fragments of a Ukrainian past, details of a London present, and a gaze into an extraordinarily blurred horizon. It’s a good thing painting has the unique ability to contain the past, present, and future — and, to some extent, turn them into a kind of timelessness.