1. Corporeality / Subjectivity / “I”
From the outside, my work may appear to be focused on the plasticity of the human body. Visually, there is indeed an abundance of anatomy and physical corporeality in various forms, which can be perceived as a focus on bodily themes.
My intention, however, is not to foreground bodily experience as such. Corporeality is present in the practice indirectly, functioning primarily as form.

In practice, I work with the body both as an object and as a material tied to materiality and physicality. At the same time, the human body is associated for me with subjectivity, content, and philosophy; it functions as a vessel of meaning. Corporeality is understood as experience from within the body, and the human being exists in the body as within a limiting оболочка.

Corporeality fixes the limitation of the human condition. Far more significant to me is the human being as a thinking construct, as a metaphysical substance within which resides what cannot be touched, measured, or experienced exclusively as physical experience.

I regard the human body as a fragile, unstable, and impermanent form, subject to deformation and transformation. At this point, the theme of bodily limits and the possibility of testing them emerges—serving as a point of departure for a further discussion of moving beyond bodily boundaries and a transhumanist vector.

2. Ontology
In my practice, I work within the field of fiction. This includes pseudo-folklore, neo-myth, and personal invented worlds and systems endowed with their own logic and internal laws.
My task is to construct an alternative, coherent, and functional system that operates according to principles different from those of familiar human reality. These systems allow for distortion, reflection, refraction, simplification, or complication, enabling shifts in perception and concentration on critical points.

I use fiction as a tool of ontological testing. By creating a fantastical model, I clarify and examine my own understanding of the real world—how specific aspects of human life and experience function.
The key criterion is the system’s viability. I create an autonomous metaphysical environment that can be entered through imagination. Convincing coherence and internal consistency are essential, producing a sense of vitality that emerges in contact with an artificially constructed world.

The process of working with such systems can be described as an attempt to animate the inanimate—to create a cadaver capable of functioning as an autonomous organism. The viewer who enters the fictional space and remains within it becomes a confirmation of the validity of this ontological construction.

3. Chaos
In my practice, chaos is understood as a state of indeterminacy and the loss of connections. It is a moment in which symbols, properties, and familiar structures collapse, and what is taking place ceases to be subject to unambiguous understanding.

I regard contact with chaos as a necessary experience. It is accompanied by anxiety, fear, and the loss of points of support, yet the capacity to endure this state of not understanding is central for me. Within chaos, the possibility of relying on ready-made explanations and external constructs disappears.
In the practice, chaos functions as a filter. It brings consciousness down to its foundations, to a state in which distinctions between habitual categories are erased. This condition can be described as a point of singularity, where the previous structure completely disintegrates.

Passing through chaos opens the possibility of reassembly. Everything that remains after this experience undergoes a test of internal coherence. Imposed meanings, automatisms, borrowed patterns, and external causes lose their force.
In this sense, chaos serves as a criterion of the activity of consciousness and an indicator of freedom and the autonomy of will. After passing through it, only what is internally affirmed remains and can be reassembled on its own foundations.

4. Mysticism / the Unknowable
In my practice, the experience of chaos is partly connected to the realm of the mystical and the unknowable. Chaos carries the process to a state of complete disassembly, in which familiar structures disappear. Within it, everything is simultaneously present and unnamed. The inability to distinguish and to name leads to the loss of boundaries—between objects, between subjects, and between the self and the other. The boundaries of the human, the living, and the ontological become blurred.

I am fundamentally interested in the question of these boundaries: where the limit of the human lies, where the living ends, and where another mode of existence begins. What remains crucial is the moment of transition itself and the impossibility of fully rationally describing it.

Mystical experience emerges as contact with that which exceeds the individual subject—what may be designated as the divine, the demonic, or the mystical. I understand these forms not in a religious sense, but in a transcendent yet experientially accessible one.

Within the practice, I maintain the presence of gaps and ruptures in understanding. I do not seek complete determinacy and leave space for the existence of the unknown as a property of the world. Archetypal figures—the demon, the angel, the divine, the dragon—are used as points of tension through which the viewer may enter into contact with the transcendent.

In this context, the unknowable is not an object of belief or explanation. It is present as a fact. What interests me is not its interpretation, but the possibility of coexisting with it and the ways of acting in conditions where definitive knowledge is absent.

5. Limits and Their Transcendence
In my practice, movement toward limits is a constant presence. Confrontation with constraints of a human, existential, and ontological order—bodily, temporal, social, and internal—constitutes a key motif of the work. The subject is initially constrained within these frameworks, and it is precisely this limitation that becomes a point of tension.

The drive toward the limit is oriented toward the very process of stepping beyond given boundaries.
Within the practice, this movement is expressed through pushing experience to the borders of chaos and the unknowable, as well as through attempts to move beyond bodily experience or to approach its maximal capacities. This approach is understood as a means of intensifying and radicalizing experience.

Working with limits and their transcendence constitutes a focal zone of my practice. Transcendence is understood as a passage accompanied by the transformation of the subject. This passage does not guarantee the preservation of a former form and does not imply a return to an initial state.

What remains central is the question of what is preserved after the passage. I am interested in the status of subjectivity following transformation, the possibility of continuity of identity, and the nature of interaction between states before and after transcendence. In this context, a tension emerges between humanist and transhumanist vectors of thought.

6. Existence / Experience
I understand existence as an environment, a dense mass of human life in which the subject is constantly situated. It is not an abstract field but a material and resistant medium that generates friction, pain, and the necessity of effort. This environment is neutral in terms of meaning: it does not prescribe a correct direction and does not guarantee transformation.

Passing through existence entails working with resistance. This mass must be confronted—overcome, processed, transformed—and this process cannot be bracketed or set aside. At the same time, I regard existence as universal in its structure and singular in its mode of being lived. The experience of each subject is irreducible, even when external conditions appear similar.

In my practice, I work specifically with fiction and projections in order to explore different configurations of experience without engaging real individuals. I use either my own projections or fantastical constructs and chimeras, treating them as working material and engaging with them aggressively.

7. Psychedelic
I understand psychedelia as a mode of perception and thinking, as well as a tool for engaging with reality. It is used to shift perspective, alter the angle from which existence is perceived, move closer to chaos and limits, and to reassemble ontological frameworks.

Within the practice, psychedelia functions as an instrument of calibration and renewal. It maintains the mobility of perspective and prevents thought from becoming fixed within stable, unquestioned structures. For me, it is important to preserve the possibility of revising my own judgments and not to adhere to convictions merely because they are already formed. If a system withstands destruction and subsequent reassembly, this confirms its viability. Renewal in this context is understood as a working necessity rather than a gesture of negating past experience.

Through this mode, contact with the mystical and the unknowable is maintained without a shift toward belief or dogma. The position I maintain may be described as agnostic: a refusal of definitive assertions combined with openness to experience.

In the practice, psychedelia is not an escape from reality. It is used as a means of regularly cleansing perception, reassembling thought, and testing the limits of what is permissible. Its function lies in sustaining freedom of thought and preventing the final stabilization of meanings.

8. Matter / Ephemerality
In my practice, matter and ephemerality are understood as interconnected levels of existence. Matter is conceived as physical form and a temporary vessel, while ephemerality is understood as metaphysical content that cannot be reduced to bodily presence.

I am interested in transitions between the dense and the vanishing, between what can be fixed and what slips away. Within this context emerges a reflection on the possibility of moving beyond physical existence—not as a goal, but as a vector of thought oriented toward the metaphysical and the ephemeral.

Human life within this field is perceived as a process of the appearance and disappearance of forms. Every form exists in time, comes into being, and fades. This applies not only to physical bodies, but also to metaphysical entities, which likewise possess instability, mutability, and a flickering quality. Through material form, it becomes possible to hold philosophical, existential, and metaphysical tension, yet the form itself is not regarded as final.

9. Transhumanism
I regard transhumanism as a hypothesis of moving beyond the human form and as a limiting vector of thought. It is a super-idea that sustains tension between the current mode of being and the possibility of its radical transformation.

I am interested in the possibility of leaving the human form while preserving the core of the subject. The central question concerns what, precisely, can be preserved when the mode of existence changes. This vector functions as a field of reflection and speculation, oriented toward inquiry rather than a conclusive answer.

Within the practice, this motif appears through a lyrical subject that moves beyond limitations and leaves its habitual оболочка. The passage is used as a form of investigating identity. Transformation is understood as a process unfolding within existence.

The human being retains the status of the center of existential experience. Regardless of the level of abstraction—social, historical, or species-based—the point of departure remains the individual subject and their bodily-existential experience. The limitation of the human body, vulnerability, pain, and everyday effort shape the structure of this experience.

The transhumanist vector enters into a state of tension with the humanist foundation. At the center of attention remains the question of preserving personality and subjectivity when moving beyond the human form. This question is held open and continues to operate within the practice.