Thank you so much for your kind introduction! You know, I actually don’t see all these various artistic activities as something different. For me it is rather one form of living through art. Choosing among these multidisciplinary genres is like choosing a color for a painting—I have an inner urge to create and try to find the best form to express all the dimensions of what I feel, think, or connect to in the moment.

There have been many times when I felt a strong desire to create something in a specific medium—textiles, for example—only to realize that I had never worked with it before. In similar situations, I have to figure out how to learn and work with the material to fully express my vision. The same happened with »Ableton« [a popular digital audio workstation for music production, recording, and live performance], I had no idea how to use it, so I asked my friend Sasha Kornej to teach me at least the basics in three hours. A week later I had the entire album ready. (I was also in a manic episode, but that’s another story!)

By the way, I love ABBA!

Oh, yes! There’s so much I want to learn! I’d love to create large-scale light installations and work with environmental elements—Olafur Eliasson is one of my biggest inspirations, so I definitely dream in that direction. I also want to explore ceramics, especially working with clay, which I find incredibly soothing and mesmerizing. Plus, I would love to dive deeper into filmmaking, create music videos, and, ultimately, learn animation—that’s my biggest dream!

The melody often dictates the language of a song, but more than that, it is my intention to say some things and feelings behind each composition that matter most.

I find English more analytical, so I usually write very specific messages in it. My first two albums are in English, also because this is the language I first started speaking in and then writing songs at the age of 14—it just felt natural.

Belarusian, on the other hand, is fluid like water—I use it for abstract imagery and metaphors. French feels moody to me; it creates a sense of imaginary distance between my feelings and the listener. I see it as a coded language through which I can express myself with far more freedom.

By the way, from the statistics I have, the second European country that listens to my songs most is Germany, so I would really want to perform there one day!

Moreover, German is one of the languages I would love to learn. My future song in German would have plenty of experimental electronic sounds, a very intense beat but the lyrics would be very gentle, metaphorical and about the meaning of life. I am also planning to use other languages I know, like Italian and hopefully Polish, but I wait for the right creative impulse to see which songs call for them.

In my new album Snake Charmer, I use all the languages I feel connected to more freely than ever before. This reflects my journey over the past year in searching for inner freedom and happiness—the central themes of the album. It also has a lot to do with battling self-imposed fears and limits, like believing I couldn’t write in French or Belarusian because I was not fluent in them. It took me some time to realize that true expression isn’t about perfection but sincerity. I don’t know any language 100% and probably would never master any to that point, so why not just embrace this imperfection and allow myself to write whatever I feel?

All of my art is deeply personal, often drawn from my diary entries and lived experiences. Each piece carries meaning that is often fully understood only by me, so I am amazed when others find their own interpretations in something I thought would be understood fully only by myself. It feels wonderful to see people, who might have never met, building this subtle dialogue with one another through my art. And it is in this that I see one of the most beautiful aspects of art making.

I wrote a song called Mugwort, which is 10 minutes long and explores the sense of loss I feel as an emigrant. I deeply miss my family and home, and that sorrow has been a recurring theme in my artistic world—not just in music but also in visual art. Recently, my focus has shifted from loss to the search for belonging in an unfamiliar world, where I am exploring the themes of self-exploitation, freedom, and the pursuit of happiness through inner stability.

I deeply love people and human connection, but it also terrifies me the most. Whether intentional or not, human interaction often leads to the deepest emotional wounds. For me, masks—or as I prefer to call them, faces—offer a safe way to engage with others while revealing my most vulnerable self. I see the face is the ultimate expression of intense, borderline emotions, and by creating them, I feel as though I am engaging in a dialogue with the world and those around me.

One of the recurring symbols in my work is a crying sun. As someone with pagan beliefs, I see the universe as a living entity, and personifying the Sun is my way of communicating with the world as if it were human. To me, depicting the Sun in tears represents the idea that even something as powerful as the Sun is imperfect and vulnerable, just like us. It sees the world’s suffering, feels compassion, and shares the sorrow of those who endure pain.