A great conversation with Belarusian artist and musician Anastasiya Rydlevskaya about childhood, life in America and Belarus, emigration, creative projects, inspiration, and dreams.
"I set up an exhibition in my room, Dad would come in, look around, and praise everything"
Speaking about her childhood, Anastasiya recalls great effort and love. Her mother and brother always painted, and her father supported the artistic inclinations of his little daughter.
"I remember how my dad bought me an art set with the last bit of money, a children's set for painting, where everything was in one place. Even though we had just moved to America, it was very difficult. Dad said, 'Nastachka, hang up what you painted in a week. Organize an exhibition in your room, and I'll come to look at the paintings.' I set up an exhibition, Dad came in, looked around, praised everything, and said about each piece, 'How cool, how beautiful!' Then he bought everything," Nasta laughs. "Dad gave me ten dollars. I felt like I was an amazing artist."
"We lived in Ohio, I studied in a, as I now know, regular school. Even there, in first grade, they told us about Van Gogh, we painted, sculpted. We did the things that in Belarus are considered a kind of special art education. Somewhere around five years old, I came up with compositions on the piano. And that's very difficult—to find an instrument in such a financial situation, but they found one for me and even sent me to specialized lessons."
Wanting More Humanity in the New Belarus
Later, Anastasiya decided not to enter the Academy of Arts but instead chose the Faculty of Philology at the Belarusian State University (BDU), and she says it was the best decision.
"I was always involved in creative activities, and I didn't really understand the world and what universities were about. The Academy of Arts means studying to be an artist. When my parents faced financial difficulties, they told me they couldn't afford my education. I somehow thought that despite my training, I wouldn't be able to enter on a state-funded basis. I thought, where can I go with my skills? Well, I could go to the Philology faculty. I only knew that they study languages there."
Anastasiya later realized that her specific experience as an artist is much more than just a visual style.
"It's about your depth as a person, your personality, your broad perspectives, and interests because each of your works is not just an image but a profound philosophical statement. Therefore, by entering the Philology faculty, I gained a solid humanitarian foundation."
She also says that she would have found it very difficult at the Academy due to its educational system. Anastasiya later obtained a master's degree in philology and taught at the university.
"As teachers, adults, they can tell students that they are not talented enough?! Such phrases are just terrible; you can't say things like that. There is no 'you are beneath me because I have more experience and I am a distinguished artist in Belarus.' No, it's all about colleagues; everyone—students and teachers—should share their knowledge peacefully."
The artist adds that the biggest problem is the hierarchy in educational institutions.
"We have a situation where a teacher comes to the university, and authority gets to their head. They start to think that they are all-powerful, omnipotent, and begin to be rude to students, dictate their terms, and do some inappropriate things. In such a system, you must submit to someone, constantly prove that you are not worthless. Our universities and schools are like a meat grinder. We need more humanity in the new Belarus."
When I'm hungry and cold, I'll just think about how to survive
Anastasiya emotionally reacts to the stereotype that "artists must be hungry and cold."
"It hurts me so much! It's just nonsense. This romanticized image from the 19th century where an artist suffers and dies got stuck somewhere. It's like they say about Tarkovsky: 'He wouldn't have become Tarkovsky if he hadn't lived in a dictatorship; he wouldn't have made such films.' I think he would have made a lot more films; he just didn't have the opportunity. When I'm hungry and cold, I'll just think about how to survive, not how to create."
The artist has bipolar disorder and says that during episodes of mood swings, she works much worse and can accomplish less than in a normal state.
"A disordered mind doesn't help creativity. And if there is money, you can do much more. Earlier, people wondered why I didn't switch to large canvases. I just didn't have the money for it, not because I lacked a concept. The same goes for textile art objects and music: money appeared, and I started working. By the way, in this stereotype, they often mention the unhappy Van Gogh. I love Van Gogh very much, and believe me, if he hadn't suffered, he would have created much more."
...Until You Paint Your Thousands of Works...
«У гэтых дэпрэсіўных ямах у мяне адчуванне, што я татальнае нішто. У 2015 годзе, каб выбрацца з гэтай ямы, я зразумела, што вельмі хачу тварыць, ёсць нешта ўва мне ўнутры, але я пакуль не магу яго намацаць, знайсці. Я на той момант думала, што трэба чакаць натхнення. А потым мяне дайшло, што пакуль ты не адмалюеш свае тысячы работ, то тое, што на самой справе ўнутры цябе, ты так і не знойдзеш, не дастанеш».
The artist started keeping a diary, making all sorts of illustrations and sketches there. Anastasiya developed a real skill through this and now even in a bad state, she can still create.
"If you have something to say, if you feel something, it means you can paint, create it. But still, it's not just inspiration, it's a real skill. When I start to stagnate, when I can't create, I change my activity, seek inspiration, switch from one material to another."
It's also important to expand oneself as a person, the artist believes. Anastasiya reads a lot, watches various documentary and artistic films for this purpose.
Anastasiya previously treated music with a certain sacredness, as if you had to wait for some muse to create something.
"And how is this different from creating a painting? The melody comes by itself, it's always within you. You just need to reach it, connect with it. And you might sit for a week without catching anything. But if you don't sit down that week, you will never get into that flow. And really, when I started to spend more time just sitting, thinking, being silent with music, pressing buttons, even when I had nothing in my head, it always comes."
Please, don't come to my exhibition
Anastasiya says she's an introverted person. In 2020, during COVID, the artist delved deeply into herself, lived in isolation, and tried not to communicate with anyone due to fear of the disease. But at the same time, her first personal exhibition took place.
"I received a message in my direct messages from an assistant at the 'DK' gallery: 'We really liked your work, we would like to hold your solo exhibition with us.' My reaction was that it was some kind of scam, a prank. I had no connection with other people at all. I didn't know that my works could appeal to anyone. I was in shock, afraid to say anything to anyone. I thought they would change their mind about the exhibition, as seeing my works live might disappoint them."
Anastasiya had no experience then on how to present works or how much they should cost.
"They told me to set prices. Well, I said, 'Okay, ten rubles.' That's how little I understood about the value of paintings. I am also a very anxious person and was afraid of COVID. I wrote in my stories: 'Please, don't come to the opening of my exhibition.' Despite that, everyone came. I thought, 'My God, what is happening? Is this really my exhibition?'"
Psychological state didn't allow me to live in the country where I would just stifle myself
In winter 2021, Anastasiya and her husband Aleksey moved to Gdansk. The time before departure was terrible and brought many health problems, the artist says.
"I react very sharply to everything, very sensitively. And I was in total shock from the pain around me. I didn't know how to survive it at all. But I somehow lived, kept a Belarusian diary, drew 200 drawings. And then they wrote about me in a post on the official channel that this was degenerate art. I was very scared by the comments where they urged me to be put in prison for drugs and other things."
Anastasiya says she had to seek help from a psychotherapist and take medication.
"It all turned into terrible panic; I started cutting myself. I was very scared and felt terrible, my brain couldn't cope at all. At some point, I lived as if I was walled up in a wall. Also, Tourette's syndrome worsened, events around became triggers. My mental state no longer allowed me to live in a country where I would just stifle myself."
Anastasiya and her husband decided to move to Poland. It was difficult because they had no means for relocation. Thanks to selling paintings three weeks before leaving, they managed to leave and find housing.
I didn't understand why everyone was angry and no one responded to my greeting
Anastasia admits that she only misses her parents, brother, and the family land where she spent every summer.
"I miss them so much that I even try not to think about it because I immediately start crying or fall into the most terrifying feeling. I haven't seen them for two and a half years. I don't feel this kind of longing for Minsk or Belarus. When I watch videos, like those from the metro, for example, I don't feel anything at all. Because there, I always felt myself trapped in this sticky film of fear and oppression."
Anastasia says that in her childhood, she forced herself to think she was American and even kept journals in English until the age of 14.
"I constantly compared everything that was happening. In Belarus, there were very aggressive teachers, while in America, I don't remember anyone shouting at me or making me feel bad. When I returned to Belarus, they put me in a class where there was a hole instead of a toilet. I cried and begged to be taken out of there. I didn't understand why everyone was mean and no one responded to my 'Hello!' on the street."
"Now, I do feel free. But it's very difficult for me. I don't have a stable job. But in Poland, I don't feel like the system is trying to crush and destroy my entire life."
When your psyche suffers, you should go to a doctor and not be afraid."
"The first project abroad was 'What Are You Afraid Of' - an exhibition in Krakow (curated by Valeriya Kalyaga). The works in this project depict events, an all-encompassing fear.
"It's about the first year when emigration happened, the loss of home, the loss of my parents, the loss of such strong connections with my relatives. And then the war began. Very frightening, it shattered the world's picture. Loss of stability, loss of the feeling that the future can exist in these periods."
This time also became a period of experiencing and realizing her trauma, what it does to a person, what it threatens, understanding the scary reality.
The second music and visual project "The Sun Shines Strangely Today" depicts, rather, the internal processes of trauma.
"For me, it was very important because I am the kind of person who naturally says, 'Hello, I have Tourette's syndrome.' I've been dealing with it since childhood; it's my normal reality. But when you tell someone, 'Listen, you have depression, you need to do something about it,' the person starts to hide, saying, 'I'm not mentally ill, I'm normal.' Why such a reaction at all? If you have a deep wound, you go to the doctor. If you break your leg, you go to the doctor. If your ear hurts, you go to the doctor. When your psyche hurts, you need to go to the doctor and not be afraid."
Anastasia says that we've all experienced and continue to experience immense stress that affects our mental well-being. That's why she wanted to openly talk about mental health through her project, to destigmatize this topic.
"I openly talked about all these depressive episodes through my works, through open text. Although the exhibition was grandiose, through mythological metaphors, through archetypes, through some deep images, I tried to convey my thoughts, but it turned out to be too much. People probably weren't ready to encounter such things in themselves or in others."
During the exhibition, songs started to emerge in Anastasia – and the first music album "When I Can't Speak" appeared.
In October 2023, in Gdansk, Anastasia presented a major visual project called "Mugwort," curated by Alena Dyelendzik. The creator also made a musical album.
«Mugwort»
"The Polish gallery itself offered to exhibit this project. It's about preserving a connection with someone you can't see, can't hug, can't communicate with because you're separated by thousands of kilometers. This project is about my mother, about exploring the types of connections that can exist between people. All these phones, as limited as they are, because human connection, love cannot be packaged in words. This exhibition is about how we don't lose each other. It also involves Tarot cards, various mystical images, pagan beliefs, memories — everything that connects me and my mother."
But this exhibition had a very bitter taste.
"Mugwort is a bitter plant. The entire exhibition was in this herb, there was a strong, strange scent. The project was very painful, but it contained much more love, something life-affirming."
I will share everything I have been able to create
Anastasia is starting a course called "Author's Style" this spring, which summarizes all the experience gathered by the artist in the last 10 years of creative work.
"The course is about finding your own authorial voice, discovering yourself as an artist, and understanding what matters to you. Anyone can participate. The main thing is to have a desire to work, as we will be painting and keeping journals. I will share everything I have been able to create, using different methods, approaches, and everything in between. The course is about finding your inner voice."
For more details about the course, look for HERE
The main thing, as mom says, is that it's very important to her, and it's important to Lesha and Dad too
"I really want to write music that's been sitting in my head; I just need to learn. I really want to work with Poles; I'm already taking steps towards that. I would really like to have the opportunity to choose the space for my projects and work on them to the fullest."
Anastasia says that her husband Lesha is a great inspiration in her life and work.
"He deserves a diamond statue. If it weren't for him, there wouldn't be anything at all, none of my works, there wouldn't be me. How many times he saved me, how many times he helped me, how he supports me! When I fall into depressive episodes (I hate them, but unfortunately, it's an illness), they change my worldview; I just become a different person.
He is my guiding star, I cling to him. From Lesha comes belief in myself, support, faith in art because he is the biggest fan. And I know that if he likes my works, then they are good. I don't need any more judgments."
Nastya laughs and also calls her fans her mom, dad, and cat.
"I understand, it doesn't matter how much you earn per month, whether it's enough for your medications or rent or not—it's not important. The main thing is, mom says that my works are very important to her, Lesha and dad too. My cat tells me that it's very important to her. She constantly walks on my palettes, strokes the canvases. I think it's a sign of appreciation. A big thanks also to my psychotherapist. If it weren't for therapy, it would be very difficult for me to deal with depressive episodes.
Anastasia also notes that support is very important for artists: when people come to exhibitions, write kind words."
«They told me that being an artist is difficult. It is indeed such a path, of course. But it is very encouraging when people, your friends, say that you are talented. When someone comes to exhibitions – it is incredibly pleasant. It seems to me that no matter how much you paint every day, self-esteem is severely affected in the art world because it's such a toxic little world. And self-esteem is the main strength».
