THE THIRD CHAPTER : INTERVIEW WITH Liza Petrova (ENGLISH VER.)
Every artist carries something at the heart of their practice—an idea, a question, or a way of seeing that continues to shape the work as it evolves.
In this conversation, Liza Petrova reflects on a painting practice shaped by the connections between personal experience, family stories, history, and the wider cultural and political world. She explores how these different layers of experience shape one another, often bringing existing images and visual languages into new contexts. In Sitting in a Tree, for instance, figures rooted in Slavic mythology become portraits of her niece and her friend, transforming a historical image into something deeply personal and contemporary.
In this chapter of The Core Message, we explore the questions that continue to guide Petrova’s practice, from what painting can be today to how meaning emerges through images, materials, and the contexts surrounding them. Reflecting on the evolution of her work and the uncertainties of the creative process, Petrova considers painting as a way of engaging with the present while remaining open to the past, to change, and to questions that may never have a final answer.
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Q. Thank you for joining us. To begin our conversation, we are curious to know how you define your identity as an artist at this moment and what central theme most occupies your thoughts.
A. What interests me most at the moment is how our personal perception is shaped by both the present and history. I begin with something personal, but I’m always trying to understand how that experience has been shaped by a much larger context. I experience history, culture, memory, and personal life as deeply intertwined. Making art is my way of giving form to those connections.
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Ksusha 2024 Alcohol ink, oil on synthetic paper 89 x 70 cm |
Q. This chapter is titled The Core Message. If you were to describe the “anchor” or the central idea that runs through your practice, what would it be?
A. I’m interested in how different layers of experience shape one another. The political cannot exist without the historical, and history cannot exist without the family story and individual life. All of these layers become part of how one experiences the world in the present. So I’m constantly in search of forms that make those relationships visible.
Q.Is there a specific piece among your works that you feel most clearly embodies this "core message"? We would love to hear the story behind that work and why it holds such a special place in your heart.
A. I think Sitting in a Tree is a good example because it reflects the way I work with images.
The painting begins with Viktor Vasnetsov’s Sirin and Alkonost, which itself draws on medieval Slavic mythology and, further back, on the ancient Greek sirens. But I’m not interested in illustrating a particular myth. I’m interested in images that have lived many lives.
As they move through history, images accumulate new meanings while carrying traces of the old ones. In Sitting in a Tree, the mythological figures become portraits of my niece and her friend. The image shifts from women to children, from mythology to personal memory, while also moving away from academic representation towards a contemporary visual language.
I’m interested in how an image can preserve traces of its history while becoming something entirely new.
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| Sitting in a tree 2024 Oil, alcohol ink on mirror plastic 50 x 100 cm |
Q. Sometimes, the most important messages are felt rather than seen. Is there a "whisper" or a subtle atmosphere in your work that you hope the audience will sense, even if it’s hard to put into words?
A. I hope the work encourages a slower kind of attention.
I don’t expect a painting to communicate in a single, direct way. Like a conversation, it unfolds on many levels at once. There is what we say with words, but there are also gestures, pauses, tone of voice and shared experience. I think art works in a similar way.
Beyond the image itself, there are materials, textures, the way paint is handled, the viewer’s own memories, and the particular moment in which the encounter takes place. Meaning emerges through all of these layers together.
I don’t want to explain my experience to the viewer. I want to invite the viewer into a partnership where art is shaped through mutual engagement. For me, the image is only one voice in that conversation.
Q. Artists often find themselves returning to a certain inquiry. What is the persistent question you find yourself asking through your art, regardless of how your style may change?
A. I’m constantly asking what painting can be today.
We have inherited an extraordinarily rich visual language. I often come back to something Gerhard Richter said: “I do see myself as the heir to a vast, great, rich culture of painting – of art in general – which we have lost, but which places obligations on us. And it is no easy matter to avoid either harking back to the past or, equally bad, giving up altogether and sliding into decadence.”
I recognize that tension. I’m interested in how painting can evolve by bringing together ideas, materials and techniques that already exist.
Contemporary art is constantly opening up entirely new territories, and I find that exciting. But my own interest lies in painting. I’m searching for the painterly form that best responds to the present.
Q. In an era of rapidly changing trends, how do you maintain your own pace and stay focused on the voice that matters most to you?
A. I’ve never been very good with trends. I somehow got stuck with my own voice.
I pay attention to what’s happening around me, of course, but I’ve never really been able to keep up. What interests me tends to stay with me for years. If a question continues to feel alive, I keep following it until it finds its form.
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| Between thoughts 2020 Gouache, oil pastel, acrylic on watercolor paper 80 x 60 cm |
Q. During the creative process, is there a specific moment or a sensation of "rightness" that tells you a piece has successfully captured your intended message?
A. Oh, there isn’t just one moment. Sometimes there are several.
They often alternate with moments of complete doubt, when I’m overcome by the terrible feeling that the piece has turned into complete nonsense. But then suddenly I do something, something else falls into place, and I recognize that sensation of rightness. It feels like witnessing a wonder. It’s one of the best parts of the whole process.
Q. Beyond the final result, what part of the "act of creating" itself do you find most precious or aligned with your personal values?
A. The process itself. I like to dissolve and split material into its basic particles. I experience this both as a liberation of the material and as a practice of sharing responsibility with the universe.
A. Studying architecture and urban planning shaped the way I think long before I became an artist.
Before designing a building, you first learn to understand its context – its history, environment, and relationships. Although I eventually left architecture, that way of thinking stayed with me.
I don’t think I ever separated aesthetics from meaning. Context has always been part of how I look at the world, and it naturally became part of my painting as well.
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| I spy 2026 Engraving, oil, alcohol ink on PC 35 x 39 x 4 cm |
Q. As your practice has evolved, how has your core message shifted or become more defined over time?
A. The questions haven’t changed as much as the way I approach them.
Earlier, I mostly searched intuitively. Today, I understand more clearly what connects different bodies of work. That understanding has also changed my relationship with painting itself. I’m becoming increasingly interested in painting as an object – how the physical surface can participate in meaning rather than simply carry an image.
This line of thinking has gradually grown into my experiments with the narrative surface.
A. I might disappoint you, but I don’t really think that way. I make paintings because I can’t not make them. Everything that happens afterwards belongs as much to the viewer as it does to me.
Q. Thank you so much for sharing such thoughtful insights with us today. As we conclude our conversation, is there a final thought or a quiet sincerity you would like to share with those who will encounter your work?
A. I’m not sure I believe in final thoughts. The questions that matter to me tend to stay open, and painting is simply the way I remain with them.
Openness matters a great deal to me. I want to keep questioning my own assumptions, listening carefully, and allowing my understanding to change. That’s something I value both in art and in life.
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| Militsioner 2021 Alcohol ink, oil on plastic board 94 x 156 cm |
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