That night, I couldn’ sleep. Outside my window, the street lay in pitch-black silence, as if the world itself was holding its breath. In my mind, a scene played out like a film noir—the quiet raised a revolver, cocked it with an ironic smile, and fired a single shot into the sky. Smoke curled, lingering, twisting into shapes. Thoughts exploded in my head, each one a stream of colour racing toward an unseen finish line. They tangled, danced, and in that restless moment, these are the words Eugene said on his creative process. It was then that I understood something, Eugene Pokutnev’ paintings feel exactly like this. I first saw Eugene’ work in Berlin, without knowing his name. His paintings weren’ just compositions of colour - they were movements. They seemed to shift before my eyes, pulling me in, disorienting me in the best way. Later, I learned his secret: ‘-black’ a rare Japanese paint so dense that it absorbs nearly all light, creating an illusion of infinite depth. He orders it from a master in Japan, layering it alongside vibrant colour, bending space itself on the canvas. When you stand before his work, it’ as if you’ falling into the painting, moving between its layers, losing balance for just a second. His journey into art was as unexpected as the effect of his work. Growing up in Dnipro (coincidentally my home town), a career in art was never considered an option. He spent his days sketching intricate patterns but, like many others in his city, he needed stability. So he became a policeman. And yet, fate has its way of rewriting stories. One day, while investigating a burglary, his colleague casually showed the apartment owner some of Eugene’ sketches. The man, a businessman with an eye for art, was so captivated that he made an offer on the spot: “ the police. I’ fund you.” And just like that, Eugene left law enforcement behind.

Twin sisters Mishel and Nicol Feldman, known as Sestry Feldman, have never followed convention. Born in Dnipro in 1996, their artistic journey began at the age of eight, driven by an innate curiosity and a family that valued freedom, self-expression, and resilience. Their father—a political prisoner under the Kuchma regime—remained an unseen figure until they were eight. But when they sent him a childhood portrait, his reply was simple yet profound: “It’s a masterpiece.” That single phrase became their silent manifesto—a sign that art was their destiny. From Kyiv’s subway walls to global exhibitions in Paris, Brussels, and Tel Aviv, their work is a fearless mix of street art, political satire, and electrifying visual storytelling. Their murals, bursting with modernised Cossacks, surreal talismans, and raw emotion, are not just paintings—they are acts of defiance, echoes of history, and visions of the future. Their five-episode animated series "Yoyo", initially meant as a yoga guide for children, turned into a satirical take on AI and humanity’s future, blending humour and dystopian vision. With no formal training, their education comes from cinema, techno beats, and the streets. Their art pulses with movement, rebellion, and energy—a world where vibrant colors meet stark realities, where every piece demands attention. Their art isn’t just seen—it’s felt, lived, and encountered.

Anna Kostritskaya’s work carries an undeniable urgency, each brushstroke infused with a tension between fragility and defiance. Her art does more than depict; it preserves, resists, and remembers. Born in Ukraine, her creative journey has been deeply intertwined with the turbulence of her homeland. Since the full-scale war began, her work has taken on an even more urgent role, serving as a form of documentation, capturing emotions, losses, and the resilience of her people. Her paintings often feel like open wounds, yet within them lies tenderness, a refusal to let beauty be erased by destruction. Working across multiple mediums - painting, photography, and mixed media, Kostritskaya employs different artistic languages to express the unspeakable. In her portraits, faces emerge from the canvas like whispers, layered with texture, almost as if they are fighting to remain visible. There is a quiet intimacy in her work, a recognition of individual stories otherwise lost within the vastness of war. Much of her practice is rooted in the act of bearing witness. Her work explores displacement, identity, and the intersection of personal and collective history. Her photography, in particular, captures fleeting moments, glimpses of life that feel sacred in their ordinariness, a stark contrast to the overwhelming instability surrounding them. Her creative process is instinctual, driven by emotion rather than rigid intent. She has described it as work that decides its own path, rather than one that is meticulously planned. Yet, despite the weight of her subject matter, her art is about endurance. It embodies the human spirit’s refusal to be silenced. Beneath the layers of grief, there is strength. There is the unbreakable.

Egor Guschin was born in 1988 in Ukraine, graduated from the Kharkiv University of Construction and Architecture with a degree in Organizational Management. He worked in his specialty for a while, then moved into the food service industry and worked as a barista in coffee shops for a long time before finding his true passion in photography. Egor's work has been featured in publications such as Plivkapeoplemag and exhibited in various galleries in Lviv, Kharkiv and Kyiv, Ukraine. This is how his career as an artist began in 2023. Now he is a member of the MYPH school of conceptual and fine art photography. Works with analog photography, mainly using the multiple exposure technique. Inspired by surrealism, loves to study mysticism and dreams, and experiments with expired film.