My journey in art began with the energy of the streets — with early experiments in street art that became my first exploration of form and space. That stage eventually evolved into a decade-long practice in photography, where I refined my eye and learned to work deeply with composition. The transition to sculpture happened intuitively — as a response to an inner search for new means of expression. Abstract forms in painting and sculpture had always drawn me in, and over time, this quiet admiration transformed into an active dialogue with material.

At the core of my creative process lies a philosophy of creation in which I act more as a conduit than an author in the classical sense. Each work is an experiment — a process that I observe rather than control, allowing the idea to find its own shape. My role is to help this concept come to life in the physical world. That’s why the result often becomes a discovery even for me — a moment of astonishment before a new, just-emerged form.

This intuitive approach is nourished by constant observation. Nature, architecture, the works of other artists — all of these elements become part of an internal visual archive. Impressions accumulate, transform, and eventually find their way into my works. What drives this process is curiosity, courage to experiment, and a deep fascination with the act of creation itself.

Growing up in a family closely connected to construction, I rarely found resonance in conventional solutions. My ultimate dream and goal is to create total works of art — abstract architectural spaces where structure, sculpture, furniture, and décor merge into a single, harmonious entity. This is more than an idea; it’s a vision I am actively working toward — exploring technologies and developing projects that, one day, will bring this concept to life.

Growing up in a creative family, I was immersed in art from an early age. From my grandfather and father — stone-cutting artists — I inherited the ability to work with stone: a deep respect for the material and its properties, the skill of listening to it and releasing the form hidden inside the block. From my mother, an icon painter, I absorbed the concise visual language of Byzantine imagery — its timeless plasticity and spiritual depth.

Many of the themes I work with originate in the search for identity: my homeland, my family’s craft, the environment in which I live. Animalistic forms that echo the ancient faces of the Perm “beast style.” Christian motifs, free from dogma but filled with personal experience. The human being as an individual — and reflections on humanity as a whole. Sometimes these images emerge unconsciously from lived emotions; at other times, I take an idea, contemplate it, and translate it into volume.

My work is built on respect for the nature of the material: minimalism intertwines with subtle poetry, and the natural imperfections of stone become expressive accents. Simple forms transform into a field of associations and metaphors, drawing the viewer into an intellectual interplay. I am drawn to the moment when an image, cleansed of the unnecessary, approaches the clarity of a sign — compact, resonant, and multilayered.

I love nature and believe in kindness, and even when I address complex themes, my ultimate aim is for my works to evoke light and positive feelings. Alongside interior sculpture, I am increasingly drawn to the scale of park sculpture and land art, and I also plan to create a series of collectible design objects.