Nostalgia is definitely an important feeling for me; I would say it’s one of the strongest. I’m so fixated on it that I’ve already figured out the timeframe when I will feel nostalgic about certain events or periods in my life. Although embracing this state really matters to me, I did not realize it at once–nostalgia started building up a long time ago, but now it has a stronger impact.

Age is one of the reasons, and I guess the older we get, the more nostalgic we become. Another factor is the inability of many of us to go back to the places we miss that capture various episodes which continue living in recollections only. In my case it is my childhood at the dacha–a place I used to spend all my summers. Being nostalgic for these moments has even more value because it’s all I’ve got.

Moreover, there are different levels of nostalgia. I feel like being nostalgic about relatively recent events can be easier; the memory is fresh, so you can recall them quite easily, almost »replaying« specific events in your head. When it comes to old memories, there is a need for a catalyst—a sound, a visual, the weather, the air. If you cannot physically go to a place from the past, you need an environment that resembles that particular moment.

Yes, for me personally, sounds and weather are probably the main drivers for nostalgia. Warm summer nights before dawn, in particular, bring me to a nostalgic state, reminding me of the carefree Minsk childhood summers when you feel that the world is big and opportunities are endless. In this case, the feeling of nostalgia is very abstract; it’s less about certain events and more about how you felt being at a certain stage of your life. Nostalgia helps to bring you back to the same state with the same feelings.

I must say, I’ve never tried to put this into words or explain it to somebody, so I’m not sure I do it well, but it’s definitely an interesting exercise. I also think it’s quite therapeutic.

I think nostalgia runs like a red thread through everything I do, whether in visuals or music. It’s not necessarily a straightforward reflection of the concept of nostalgia but more of a mindset that shapes my work. Recently, I saw a snippet of an interview with Bowie where he mentioned that many artists don’t begin with a specific concept. Often, it comes after the piece is completed. I strongly relate to that, especially with music: when I start working on something new, I often have no idea what it will become. I might know the energy I want to convey, but the specific sounds usually come to me in the process.

When working on my pieces, I always conceive a story first. With visuals, the idea of nostalgia can be more direct than with sound. For example, in my collaborative work with nara Is neus, »Don’t You Recall?«, we reflect on how we perceive space and the way this perception is shaped by digital technologies. To do it, we 3D-scanned parts of Hamburg, Berlin, and Barcelona and created »fictional yet familiar places«–interconnected worlds that seem both from the future and from the past, as if someone in the future were looking back at them.

Storylines are also important when I compose music and plan how to organize album tracks. I arrange them to channel the energy and mood progression that often leads towards the culmination in the end. The titles are interconnected, too. These story elements help bring myself (and hopefully the listeners) into a certain state of imagination or dreaming, So, rather than reflecting nostalgia directly, I see my sound as a catalyst to evoke it. Sounds are able to unlock the access to parts of our memories we might not often think of.

Thus, this idea of something »fictional yet familiar« really describes nostalgia for me. Even when we think of something in the past, our imagination adds its own twist, creating a dream state I think many people might enjoy.

Lately, maybe because the area where I am now staying in Berlin is very quiet and has a village vibe, I think a lot about the dacha. There, with my grandmother, I used to spend almost every summer, so now the sounds I happen to be surrounded sometimes remind me of Belarus and give the feeling of home.

So, one setup would be this: summer time, the warmth right after the sunset, it’s not totally dark yet, and I’m near the house where my grandmother is making dinner, so I hear the plates and pots banging. This is the first sound that I associate with home.

The other setup is probably a very early winter morning, it’s still dark. I’m going to school or university, and since it has snowed the whole night, all the sounds are perceived as a bit muted; all feels like having slowed down a bit. The streets and roads aren’t cleaned yet, so even the noise of passing cars sounds soft and nice.

I need to think about the third one; it’s not coming to me right now.

Actually, I haven’t yet. I rather use field recordings as effects; most of the time, they are heavily processed, so you cannot even tell what sound it was, but I do know, and this is what matters. But maybe I should really try to incorporate those sounds, too. Thank you for the suggestion!

Ok, I’ve got the third one—it’s very cliché, but there was a birch grove in front of my grandma’s dacha. The trees were super tall, so even if the wind wasn’t strong, the leaves still made a beautiful sound rustling in the breeze. I also think that because birch leaves are small, they have this very particular sound. I remember myself sitting on the porch and reading »The Lord of the Rings«, imagining I was part of Tolkien’s world. Now I understand that the audial experience was definitely stirring my imagination back then.

It was indeed a low-key project made more for fun than anything serious, but that could also be the beauty of it. We made it in collaboration with Sena Partal right when the pandemic started. We were in two different cities at the time and communicated via video calls (as many people did then). We were discussing a possibility of collaboration on a more serious project when this idea popped into our heads. At the time, we were both interested in the phenomenon of ASMR, which was also quite new, so we thought of creating ASMR-like sounds for each other and sending them as gifts over time. Later we made an audio piece out of this exchange and eventually decided to give it a face by creating a video.

The video is made mainly from found footage; we were looking for something that would fit the sound. We were not trying to communicate any specific message through the images, but our video selection is certainly influenced by our beliefs. I’m also curious if people who watch the video find a deeper meaning in it. I find it fascinating how the human brain always tries to find a deeper sense in something that probably doesn’t even have it.

Going back to your question, I think sound as a gift is a very intimate thing. There’s something very personal about the sound, even if you don’t create it, like compiling a mixtape for a friend’s birthday or sharing with someone a track you really like . Somehow this practice is a bit forgotten now; we don’t gift music as often. I remember it was a thing to give CDs when I was a teenager. Although, for my last birthday, I received a vinyl–Abul Mogard and Grand River’s album–from a dear friend. It immediately put a smile on my face.

I would say that being away from home definitely makes you value it more. I remember when I finally decided to leave Belarus, I felt frustrated. It was during the time of the so-called »silent protests« [»Silent« protests are a name of a series of civil protests in Belarus in June 2011 caused by the dissatisfaction with the actions of the Belarusian president, which led to the financial crisis, devaluation of the local currency and a sharp rise in prices. The point of the actions was about gathering in city centers, with no slogans, calls or demands, only clapping as a form of disagreement expression.]

During one of the last protests I attended, we were so few. I felt so upset and disappointed—only to see in 2020 that people were so brave and that we got so far. I think no matter what is happening in Belarus from a political perspective, we now know what we think and what we’re capable of doing. Although it’s difficult to stay optimistic, I still try to believe that one day we’ll be free to choose if we want to live in Belarus or abroad and to visit home freely if we choose to stay elsewhere.

When I first left, I was so discouraged that, for a long time, I intentionally isolated myself from Belarus. I didn’t have much contact with others in the immigrant community either, and there weren’t as many Belarusians abroad as there are now. Slowly, I’m reconnecting with people and trying to stay in touch with other Belarusians outside of my family and close friends.

When it comes to my family and close friends… well… It’s unfortunate that so many people from Belarus are now scattered around the world, and we have to rely on technology to stay connected. I’m not great at it, I must admit, and of course, it can’t replace in-person connection. But I’m fortunate that my mom spends quite a bit of time outside of Belarus, and we can meet at least twice a year, which is a luxury for many Belarusians. I’m also very grateful that my best friend lives not too far from me (still a different country, but reachable), so we can meet in person from time to time.

When it comes to multidisciplinary projects, I definitely think that collaborating with others is the way to go. You simply get much better results. It’s, of course, a lengthier process involving a lot of management, but it’s definitely worth it. There’s always the risk, however, that a collaboration could become a total disaster. In those cases, it’s important to recognize that as soon as possible and end it. Otherwise, you may end up working on something with someone where the dynamic just doesn’t fit, which rarely leads to anything good. I learned this from personal experience, though I’m still working on pulling myself back from collaborations that aren’t working.

In terms of choosing collaborators, I think if I appreciate and value another artist’s work, that’s enough of a criterion to try and work together. Then, time will tell if we actually work well together. As you have noticed, I’ve had many collaborations, especially as a visual artist, since I often worked with musicians creating visuals for them.

One collaboration I really value is with the composer and my friend nara Is neus. When we started working together, we weren’t friends, but now we’re very close. I must say our way of working together was very healthy and respectful. I think it’s because we had distinct roles—she composed the music, and I created visual worlds for it. The mutual respect and appreciation for each other’s creative input really made this collaboration flow smoothly. We haven’t been working as closely lately, but Neus mixed and mastered my EP, so I’m sure there will be more to come in the future.

In general, I feel like the audio-visual format is making a comeback. Since I started working on live visuals, I’ve been contacted by many musicians because I think people are looking for something »extra« in their live performances. AV is also a great tool to convey the concepts, ideas, and moods behind musical compositions. The same goes for nightlife events–I’ve created visuals for multiple parties and have always received positive feedback. Projections usually occupy a lot of space, which often enhances the venue’s architecture and can even transform it, giving it new life and character.

Right now, I’m more focused on music and feel extremely happy that my work is slowly gaining recognition. But I don’t think I’ll abandon visuals completely; I still enjoy the process of creating visual worlds that give music a »face.«

Another collaboration I would like to mention is that with my friend Michelle Roginsky–a film director. We were in a music course together and initially decided to have a jamming session just for fun. That jam suddenly turned into a working session, and eventually we ended up creating a track. I think working on something without clearly defined roles can be challenging, but it wasn’t the case with Michelle. I really enjoyed how our work together was so respectful and rooted in trust. In summer we also shot a music video for one of my tracks which we are planning to release soon. I know experiences like this aren’t always common when working with others, so I’m really grateful for it. To sum up or maybe offer some advice: the key to a successful collaboration is respect and trust.