I have always felt a deep connection to the mountains. My childhood was spent in the quiet, picturesque mountains of Ukraine — I still remember their scents, their air, their silence.

When my husband and I moved to Canada, I encountered a different kind of presence. The scale of these mountains is overwhelming — not only in size, but in feeling. Standing among them, you cannot help but feel a sense of awe and a quiet reverence for the Creator.

Our first home was the mountain town of Fernie, where nature is not just around you — it holds you. During the pandemic, when so much of the world felt closed and uncertain, the mountains remained open. They became a place of stillness, grounding, and quiet strength.

At the same time, my work is shaped by people. At markets, simple conversations often turn into ideas — a request, a feeling, a small story that finds its way into what I create. And sometimes, inspiration comes from seeing something familiar and feeling the desire to reinterpret it in my own way.

Each piece I create carries a trace of these moments — shaped by nature, memory, and a quiet sense of something greater than us.