
Over the past months, I’ve been honoured to be selected as a finalist in several exhibitions across Australia. Being part of the evolving art mosaic in Sydney and beyond is something I truly value.


In October, my work was shown at Gallery 11:11, followed by Bridges to Belonging in Adelaide in November — an exhibition that explored connection, identity, and shared stories.
December brought another exciting milestone: I was delighted to be a finalist in the 40 by 40 Exhibition at Newcastle Art Space 🎉
This exhibition celebrates over forty years of a vibrant creative community and showcases artworks measuring 40 × 40 cm — a reminder that great art can come in small packages. The exhibition ran in early December 2025.
Also in December, I was selected to participate in The Summer Prize Exhibition at Northern Beaches Gallery, an exhibition absolutely worth visiting with many outstanding works on display. Among them was my painting Jingymia mallee — Eucalyptus synandra, shown in late December.
Another memorable moment from this period was seeing one of my artworks sold at auction directly from the concert stage — a powerful reminder of how art can live and breathe beyond gallery walls.
Currently, my work Nocturne for Large-Fruited Mallee is on display at:
Brunswick Street Gallery, Melbourne
Small Works Art Prize Exhibition
4–17 January 2026
This exhibition holds a special place for me — I’ve been taking part in it since 2011. If you’re in Melbourne this January, don’t miss it.
And there’s more to come — stay tuned.







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 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.