Motanka for me is a symbol of Ukraine, a deep archetype of Slavic culture, folk wisdom, connection with ancestral roots.

When the war in Ukraine broke out, I felt with my every cell that its purpose and its goal as the goal of every war is to destroy the nation, to eradicate our cultural heritage and to uproot us.  I am trying to live my life, I am truly grateful for being in Poland not in Ukraine, I am safe but I feel a black wound in my heart.

This Motanka shows this wound, it shows what the war really is. The war is not a romance, and it is not the uplifting heroic act that Russian propaganda tries to show.  War means thousands of destroyed lives.  Millions of lost hopes.  These are murdered children.  It means death, sadness, pain and fear. 

It means millions of black wounds.

War means hate that devours souls. War means destruction.  Fear and hate.  Pain and injustice.  Darkness that runs through people's lives, destroying them. War leaves nothing but ruins.  War means broken windows, broken houses, broken hopes, and broken lives.

War means desperate and fear. War gobbles up all dreams and plans, all hopes and expectations.

My Motanka is my "NO!!! " to the war, this is my cry. This is my scream. I am crying together with it, together with all those who have died, together with all those who have lost their home, family, relatives and friends, together with mothers and children, together with men forced to kill people, I shout: "Let's end the war!" Let's do it until it ended us.

I believe that faith will always be with us. I believe that nothing can destroy love, love for your homeland, compassion, faith. Motanka does not die. Her face is scorched by war, but a new one will always appear instead.  And no one will ever be able to destroy us.

My first doll from the new collection.

I started it before the war, and this collection was conceived as a mystical journey through Slavic mythology.

But life has made its adjustments, and I could not continue for a long time, there was even a moment that seemed - that's all, I will no longer make dolls.

And then came the Warrior.  He smiled at me from his white, unfinished face, and I saw in him a courageous defender, strong and fearless. 

Warrior of Light, who is not afraid of Darkness.

Dedicated to all the soldiers who are now fighting for their country, for justice, for each of us.

A low bow to you.

Dmitry was born in Moscow. He has worked on TV for over 20 years as a cameraman, director of photography, director, actor. Filmed for various TV channels and TV projects. "The Battle of extrasensory", "Moscow: Instructions to use", concerts of Metallica, Scorpions, Rod Stewart, 30 seconds to Mars, Anastasia, Sophie Ellis-Bextor, Leningrad, musical Notre Dame de Paris etc.

Then he became interested in photography. This is what Dmitry says about himself: "I am very fascinated to see something or someone with a look that no one else has looked at before me. And capture it on my camera".

Now Dmitry lives in Prague. He shoots videos and photos, advertisements, talk shows, training programs. He is preparing new projects for social networks. You can find him on Facebook.

International Theatre Festival, Wrocław, Poland

Wonderland Workshop to wydarzenie dla dzieci, podczas którego będą miały okazję tworzyć i bawić się wspólnie w języku angielskim. W czasie wydarzenia Seth Compton przeczyta dzieciom „Alicję w Krainie Czarów”. Różne wydania klasycznej opowieści, którym będą towarzyszyć ręcznie wykonane zabawki sprawią, że historia ożyje.

Po przeczytaniu historii, artystka, twórczyni zabawek i nauczycielka Liudmyla Bezusko zaprezentuje dzieciom swoje ręcznie wykonane zabawki. Następnie dzieci wezmą udział w Warsztacie Szalonego Kapelusznika, w ramach którego stworzą własne szalone kapelusze ze znalezionych materiałów.

The history of this sculpture simply changed my life..

Being in a concentration camp near Poznań, called the Museum of Death or simply Fort VII, I realized that I would never be the same again.

I had undergone a tremendous personal change, my old beliefs were just falling off me in clumps and layers, leaving my skin bare.

This degree of sensitivity is difficult to describe. I have been every woman in this hell. I burned at the stake and wrote poems to the screams of prisoners. I carved ducklings out of bread and sewed napkins from scraps of my own clothes, shaking with cold and thirst. I sang songs with people like me, trembling with fear.

I realized that I am a Woman.

After all, in each of them and in each of us there is this greatness - to be. BE. This is a museum that celebrates life, not death. The greatness of love. Courage to be strong by becoming a victim.

Their sacrifice would be in vain if we had not learned to enjoy life.

I understood it when I saw there, in this hell, a dried flower, wrapped in a piece of wrapper, neatly trimmed around the edges.

Dedicated to all victims.