I’m deeply honoured that my painting, St. Andrew’s Church in Kyiv, Ukraine is now part of the City of Sydney Civic Collection.
This artwork was officially presented in May 2025 by Andrew Mencinsky, President of the Ukrainian Council of NSW, to Lord Mayor Clover Moore and the City of Sydney—a gesture of gratitude for their ongoing support of displaced Ukrainians and our community since the beginning of Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022.
St. Andrew’s Church is a treasured Baroque gem of Kyiv, perched above the historic Podil district. Designed by Italian architect Francesco Bartolomeo Rastrelli in the 18th century, it stands as both a cultural icon and a spiritual beacon.
This church holds a special place in my heart — my mum and grandfather were born not far from it, and during my art school years we spent many plein air sessions painting around its beautiful grounds.
The presentation took place a month ago, but I was waiting for the official photos before sharing this moment with you.
Australia’s support of Ukraine and part of my home city Kyiv, now represented in Sydney’s civic collection means more than words can express.
During the Rooted in Nature exhibition, I ran two small, intimate workshops focused on observing nature through different lenses. The first workshop explored trees from a distance — their shapes, rhythm, and presence in the landscape. The second shifted to a close-up study of eucalypt blooms, celebrating detail, texture, and colour. Working with texture paste and acrylic, we built layered, expressive surfaces full of energy. I keep my groups small to allow for a more personal approach, and although everyone followed the same process, each artwork turned out completely different. There is something truly magical about creating inside an exhibition space. Being surrounded by artworks and artists in the act of making seems to boost creativity and confidence — the energy is contagious. Both groups did an incredible job, and I’m genuinely proud of the results and the courage they brought to their work.
In the fifth grade, I first tried watercolour painting—and it instantly became a source of immense joy. The way the pigments danced and blended on paper felt like magic. I discovered that watercolours have a mind of their own: their fluidity and unpredictability invite collaboration rather than control. Over the years, this dialogue between brush, water, and pigment has stayed with me. Every time I pick up a watercolour brush, I’m reminded of that first spark of discovery in year 5—the joy of watching colours flow freely, forming something beautiful and unexpected. My journey with art didn’t stop there. I’ve dedicated my entire life to studying and working with various materials—acrylics, oils, texture pastes, and more—each offering its own challenges and rewards. Yet watercolour remains my first love, the medium that taught me to trust the process and embrace the beauty of imperfection. Even today, that simple act of dipping the brush in water brings not only pigments to paper but also a flood of memories, a quiet sense of gratitude, and a profound satisfaction that has endured since those early school days.
