Q: You describe your work as “phenomenological,” revealing itself through both rational planning and intuitive flow. How do you navigate that balance between structure and spontaneity?

A: Before creating a performance, I engage in a rigorous process that blends observation, contextual research, and inductive methods. I draw from post-positivist and qualitative approaches, studying the place and the behaviour of its people as a living archive. From this, I often craft a story—sometimes sculptural, sometimes invisible, that anchors the work in its environment. Structure emerges through this preparation, but the performance itself unfolds through intuition. Walking becomes a method of encounter, where prediction gives way to presence. The inner state of being shapes how others engage with the work, and intuition guides each next move. I don’t aim to control the outcome, I listen to the moment and let the work reveal itself.

Q: You’ve worked and exhibited in many different countries. How do the environments and cultures you immerse yourself in shape your creative process and the ideas behind your work?

A: Fully! In fact, I usually take a long time before developing a certain work in a country. I merge with the people, talk to them, share our life stories, and learn about the culture. I focus on our meeting points, on our differences. I look for hints of care, what they care about, what I care about, and what we care about in common. I begin to have visions that unfold, sometimes in the blink of an eye, sometimes over years. I do not release works that are not fully mature, which is why I have several works in queue, but I always try not to wait more than five years. Otherwise, they might find other minds to think about them. It is important for me to merge my own world with the world of others, to immerse in their cultures through the common ground we discover in the process.

Q: Your projects frequently address socio‑political and environmental issues. Could you describe a recent work that uses cathartic action to engage viewers on those themes?

A: For my work Pyjamas Party, I dressed a real tank in pyjamas. The garment was created with the help of local residents, and it took time to design, reflect on, and prepare both the piece and the two-hour action itself. The act of dressing the tank was a way to transform its image: not only to symbolically send war to sleep, but also to imagine a future in which humanity becomes non-violent, viewing weapons as relics of past wrongdoing. I wanted to shift the perception of the tank from a killing machine to a peaceful giant, an object of care rather than destruction.

Q: Designing participatory art requires inviting the audience in. What are some ways you've created space for viewers to become co‑creators in the past while still guiding the experience?

A: Designing participatory art means inviting the audience into a shared space of creation. One example is Atelier n.4, where I set up a clay table and engaged in conversation with participants while sculpting an obelisk. Together, we explored four themes: God, Equality, Freedom, and Death. The audience would choose a topic, and through that choice, we formed a landscape of dialogue shaped by their reflections.

My favorite way of involving people, however, is more active and embedded in the making process itself. In my performance Pyjamas Party, although I was the one performing, the work was co-created by many: curators, fabric merchants, tailors, and friends who helped with measurements and translated key documents. For me, this is real participation, where people contribute directly to the material and conceptual life of the work. The idea may begin with me, but it requires a network of shared effort to come fully alive.

Q: You’ve taken part in major biennales. What have residencies and international exhibitions taught you about cultural exchange and the universality of the themes you explore in your work?

A: I believe that staying for longer periods in places and immersing myself immediately in new locations with openness is a powerful tool for creating work. But this requires a deep sense of openness and respect, especially when things seem very different from what we previously perceived. For me, openings are like breathing, in and out, expanding and contracting, while listening to the breath of the social fabric.

Q: Multidisciplinary practice can be challenging to navigate. What is one advice you think might be particularly helpful to Artists exploring multiple avenues of self-expression?

A: I’ve been exposed to many forms of art and explored them in depth: I’m a dancer, a sculptor, and I’ve been painting all my life. So being multidisciplinary, and at times interdisciplinary, comes naturally to me. But it keeps me very busy… sometimes too busy. I enjoy it deeply. There’s something beautiful about being exposed to different kinds of stimulation, like becoming an inventor again and again, learning new practices and ways of thinking.

In the commercial world, this can have downsides. People might only see one aspect of your work, and your practice might not appear commercially “clear.” I love the way I work, but as a full-time painter, sculptor, and dancer, I often feel I’d need five Matlakas  to create everything I envision. It can drive me a bit mad at times. My advice? Follow your heart. This life is yours, you decide what to do with it and how you want it to be.