
Knowing your tools deeply — how they behave, how they age, how they respond to light and heat — changes the way you work and the confidence with which you make decisions.


During my time at Azur Studio in Kyiv, we took part in a number of art trips across Europe, visiting paint and medium manufacturers directly. These experiences were invaluable. Being able to ask questions about materials from the people who created them — the chemists, designers, and technicians behind the products — gave us insights no manual or catalogue ever could. Who could know the materials better than those who developed them?
Along the way, we also participated in workshops with local designers who introduced us to the full potential of different gels and pastes, transparent and opaque paints, and specialised products for textile decoration and pseudo stained glass. We explored techniques for creating patina, working with gilding, and layering surfaces in ways that expanded both technical knowledge and creative possibility.
I often find myself missing those times — being surrounded by like-minded professionals, travelling, learning, experimenting, and talking endlessly about what we loved most: paint, surface, and decoration. Those journeys shaped not only my technical approach, but also my respect for materials as active partners in the creative process.




In August 2024, more than 725 guests gathered at Sydney Town Hall to mark the 33rd anniversary of Ukraine’s Independence, standing together in solidarity, pride, and unity. The event, organised by the Ukrainian Council of NSW, unfolded as a powerful theatrical performance sharing Ukraine’s history, culture, and resilience. I took part in the program through live sand animation, accompanying the story of Illia — a brave Ukrainian boy who shared his lived experience on stage. As Illia spoke in front of the audience, I illustrated his words in real time with sand, allowing the images to emerge and dissolve alongside his voice. The story was deeply moving — painful, yet filled with hope for a better future. Working with sand live on stage brings its own challenges. Under pressure, with nerves and lights, even something as simple as sand becomes unpredictable — warm palms, fine grains sticking to skin, moments that cannot be undone. But perhaps that fragility is exactly what made the experience so honest. Illia’s story was shared with remarkable courage. At just twelve years old, he stood before the audience to tell the truth of what he had lived through. A video of this performance is available, featuring Illia Kyrychenko, with sand animation by Tetiana Koldunenko, and script, direction, and filming by Kateryna Kyrychenko. It was an honour to be part of a moment where story, image, and human strength met on one stage.

In 2018, I was invited to curate and coordinate a cultural performance for a diplomatic function at the National Gallery of Australia, at the request of the Embassy of Ukraine and on the initiative of Christine Syvenkyj-Bailey. The performance was created primarily from Christine Syvenkyj-Bailey’s private collection, with additional contributions from the collections of Sonia Mycak and Roxolana Mishalow. I am deeply grateful to them for their generosity and trust. This project was far more than event coordination — it was about giving history a voice. Every costume, ornament, and movement carried memory, identity, and meaning. My role was to carefully weave these elements into a coherent narrative that honoured tradition while allowing it to live and breathe in the present moment. I oversaw the entire creative and organisational process: selecting traditional Ukrainian costume elements, sourcing authentic garments and objects from private collectors, and recreating historical headpieces and jewellery where originals could not be used. I wrote the presentation script to guide the audience through the story, and designed all visual and printed materials — from slides and banners to invitations, gifts, and calendars — ensuring a unified visual language throughout the event. Behind the scenes, the work was equally intricate. I coordinated models and assistants, managed the careful transport of costumes and artefacts from Sydney to Canberra and back, and balanced countless logistical details so that, on the day, everything felt effortless and dignified. What emerged was not simply a performance, but a living expression of cultural memory.