Q: What draws you to monochromatic expression, and how does it enhance the themes of transformation and emotional depth?

A: Definitely, monochromatic expression is a defining element of my art. I am drawn to black and white not just as colors, but as pure energy. In ancient Chinese philosophy, Ba-Gua, white symbolizes vital energy, the essence of earth and life itself. Black, paradoxically, is the ultimate concentration of light — it represents the void, the unknown, the divine presence, the air we breathe. It embodies the very nature from which we are formed, a reminder of our spiritual origin that we often fear to confront.

Laozi once wrote: “It is empty, and therefore indestructible. It is ever-changing, and thus unparalleled in its manifestations.” In my art, the interplay of black and white mirrors the duality of existence—life and light, presence and absence. It strips away the distractions, allowing the viewers to see their true selves beyond the frozen images of the ideal personality we try to be. Through this stark contrast, I emphasize the nature of inevitable profound transformation that have already started in a modern person and help them see, accept and embrace this process.

Q: Your art focuses on human transformation in the contemporary world. What are some periods of transformation that have been crucial in your creative journey?

A: For many years, I was a conceptual artist, crafting in-depth theoretical texts and constructing large-scale installations from scaffolding and paper, often integrating them with emerging technologies. My art revolved around digital transformation and its influence on human behavior. However, the key shift in my artistic journey occurred when I unexpectedly suffered a severe injury that left me blind in one eye. This traumatic event fundamentally altered my perspective — not just physically, but creatively and emotionally. It compelled me to turn inward and experience transformation on a deeply personal level. Previously, I had explored these processes only on a theoretical level, but now I was living them. I became acutely aware how suppressed emotions and subconscious imagery surfaced within me. This introspection, combined with a series of inexplicable mystical events surrounding my injury, led me to develop my artistic approach, Affective Realism. Through this style, I bring these emotions to the surface of a canvas.

Q: The concept of ‘affective realism’ is central to your work. Can you explain what this artistic approach means to you and how it differs from the more traditional aspects art?

A: Affective Realism is my unique art style. This style is similar to abstract expressionism, but instead of abstract color shapes, I use intuitive images to express my emotions and inner state. These images are distinguished by their realism, painstaking elaboration of the main character and the details. Each work requires an incredibly meticulous process, which takes me from one to several months. My creative process is rooted in the radical honesty with myself and a viewer, rejecting premeditated narratives and themes. I work from a void, solely relying on my intuition, gesture and muscle memory. My imagery is deeply allegorical, shaped by recurring visions that have followed me throughout my life. I think they help me see and accept my unpleasant, hidden feelings and experiences without judgement or analysis.

Q: You expose emotions like shame, insecurity, and aggression that many people try to hide. Have you faced any resistance or strong reactions to your work, and how do you navigate that?

A: I do not recall any extreme reactions to my art, but I have witnessed its profound impact on both viewers and myself. To be honest I feel a little bit worried sharing these stories, but on the other hand I am completely convinced that what might be painful at first sight can lead to healing.

A striking example of this was the response to my work “My Own Cage”. Shortly after completing it, I suffered a severe eye injury — an unsettling parallel to the image I had created. The painting depicted a man with a cage over his eyes, with the left side beginning to collapse. A psychologist who saw it on social media immediately connected with its theme, as she worked with people overcoming internal limitations. She told me that my own injury was symbolic, marking a personal transformation. This experience deepened my understanding of how art not only reflects emotions but can also catalyze profound internal shifts. Then she bought the work and a few months later the collector also experienced an eye injury. To my surprise she was delighted, she saw it not as a painful injury, but as a revelation—a way of seeing the world differently. This reassured me that my work does not impose emotions on viewers but instead helps them comprehend their internal hidden resources.

Q: With the rise of social media, NFTs and virtual galleries, artists now have a more direct interaction with collectors. What advice would you give to other artists navigating a similar digital landscape?

A: Broadcasting your art and connecting with people are the main points of an artist's successful career. The digital art world is expanding and becoming increasingly integrated into the traditional art landscape. More and more galleries, museums and collectors are starting to build their own digital collections. Navigating this landscape requires an artist to embody multiple roles. Today, artistic practice extends beyond creation; it demands a nuanced approach that incorporates communication, strategy, and presentation.

When engaging with collectors, it's crucial to remember that they want to connect not with a salesperson, but with an artist—a creator with a vision. They want to understand what drives you, what emotions and thoughts shape your work. Therefore, I believe it’s essential to blend both skill sets: engaging in genuine artistic dialogue while also maintaining a professional approach in building relationships.