I work primarily with acrylic and oil on canvas, focusing on emotional states, atmosphere, and inner experience rather than literal representation. Painting is an intuitive process for me, where structure and spontaneity coexist through layered surfaces, gesture, and carefully restrained color relationships.
In many of my paintings, the human body becomes a space of inner experience rather than representation. I simplify form and build it through soft, fragmented planes of color, shifting attention away from identity and toward presence. I’m drawn to quiet compositions—moments of stillness and pause—leaving the work open to interpretation and quiet reflection.
I’m an artist from Ukraine, now based in New York City. When the war began, I had to leave my home behind and start again. Painting became my voice when I lost everything else—it’s how I process what happened, how I hold on to hope, and how I imagine a future where I can finally belong. Every piece I create carries a story of survival and of searching for peace. For me, art is not only creation —it’s home.
In Between, the human form is constructed through soft, fragmented planes of blue. The anatomy is simplified and gently broken into calm color fields, so the body reads as a space of inner experience rather than representation. The limited palette creates a quiet, introspective mood, and the painting feels like a suspended moment—still, open, and unresolved.
In Echo, the figure is shown from behind. The body is slightly tilted, which suggests vulnerability and inward movement, as if the person is turning away not from the viewer, but into themselves. A restrained palette and simplified form emphasize the pose—its weight and hesitation—rather than identity. The image remains in a moment of pause, leaving room for interpretation and quiet reflection.
This painting depicts a cat seated in profile, positioned at the edge between light and darkness. The figure isn’t rendered as a realistic animal portrait; instead, it is built from dense, expressive brushstrokes and bold planes of color, so the image reads more as an emotional presence than a literal scene.
The composition is driven by strong contrast. Deep blues and near-black tones shape the cat and the surrounding space, while a concentrated halo of yellow-orange behind it creates a sense of heat—like firelight, a sudden flare, or a circle of warmth in the night. Below, a reflective surface suggests water or wet ground: the light breaks into rhythmic strokes, giving the lower half of the painting a shimmering, unsettled movement.
The cat’s posture—contained, alert, slightly guarded—holds the atmosphere in a moment of pause. The work stays open to interpretation, balancing stillness with intensity, and letting color and gesture carry what the image does not explicitly explain.
Here, a warmer shift in palette and more open space changes the emotional temperature without explaining it. The surface remains active and gestural, keeping the feeling present. Even when the work feels lighter, it doesn’t erase what came before—warmth stays beside shadow, quietly, leaving room to breathe and to endure.
My practice is multidisciplinary and not limited to a single genre. I work across figurative, abstract, and symbolic visual languages, staying focused on emotional states and inner experience rather than literal representation. Painting, for me, is a balance of intuition and structure—where spontaneity can exist inside a clear sense of form.
I work primarily with acrylic and oil on canvas, exploring layered surfaces, gesture, and color relationships. Alongside painting, I maintain a parallel fine-line tattoo practice, which informs my attention to line, rhythm, and the expressive qualities of the human body.
