Artist Statement

My work draws deeply from the Slavic folk tradition of woodwork, an art form that has been passed down through generations, particularly in the rural regions of Ukraine, and other Slavic cultures. These wooden carvings, known as rezba po derevu (резьба по дереву) or wooden lacework, are far more than decoration—they embody craft, protection, and identity. Historically seen in both sacred and domestic architecture, these intricate designs, often inspired by geometric and natural motifs, reflect the values, beliefs, and social identity of the people who created them.

The nalychnyk—the ornate wooden frame that surrounds windows—is at the heart of my sculptures. These frames traditionally served a dual purpose: they protected homes from the elements while also expressing the artistry and beliefs of the family within. Intricate floral and vine-like motifs, often linked to protection, fertility, and spirituality, were carved into the wood, serving as both a visual marker of identity and a symbolic talisman warding off misfortune. Windows in Slavic tradition were often seen as portals between the known and the unknown, between the safety of home and the unpredictability of the outside world.

In my work, the nalychnyk serves as a metaphor for the vulnerability of cultural identity. The frames I create are charred and blackened using the Shou Sugi Ban technique, a controlled burning method borrowed from Japanese tradition. While fire is often associated with destruction, this process preserves the wood rather than consuming it—a powerful metaphor for the resilience of heritage in the face of loss. Just as traditions and cultural identities can endure through conflict, these frames remain intact, though scarred by the flames.

This technique is central to my artistic practice, highlighting how destruction and preservation coexist. The fire-blackened exterior reflects the trauma of history—the impact of imperial domination, Soviet suppression, and modern conflict—yet beneath the charred surface, the original carvings survive. This duality embodies the struggle of Slavic cultures: continuously tested by external forces, but never fully erased.

Each burned nalychnyk tells a story of loss and survival, honouring the ancestral craftsmanship while confronting the forces that threaten its extinction. By working with these intricate frames, I engage with the tension between tradition and modernity, commenting on the ways urbanisation and mass production have displaced handmade folk practices. The burnt surfaces of my sculptures are a visual metaphor for the ongoing erosion of cultural heritage, while the preserved carvings within remind us that identity persists through adversity.

The spaces where I present my work are as important as the sculptures themselves. Whether displayed in a modern annex of a cathedral or a public art installation, my pieces seek to bridge the past and the present, placing the delicate remnants of tradition into contemporary contexts. These installations are not just about mourning what has been lost—they are about reclamation and renewal, asserting that these art forms, stories, and identities will continue to endure, no matter the challenges they face.

Through my work, I aim to express the idea that culture is not static—it is alive, vulnerable, and shaped by conflict, but it can also find new strength in transformation. The charred wood, though marked by fire, becomes a symbol of resilience. Much like the Slavic people, these frames stand at the threshold between destruction and survival, embodying the paradox that even in the face of devastation, beauty and meaning endure.

By creating these works, I offer a visual requiem for the folk traditions of the Slavic peoples—not as relics of a lost past, but as symbols of a living heritage that refuses to be forgotten. Through fire, I aim not to destroy, but to preserve and protect what is most precious: the stories, symbols, and identities that continue to define us, even in the face of modern erasure.