I paint the price of looking strong – what a person holds inside to appear composed and untouchable on the outside. The central conflict in my work lies between the image of a strong, autonomous person and the inner weight they carry to keep that facade from collapsing. My figures are restrained and composed, yet tension breaks through the smooth surface: fatigue, vulnerability, the invisible heaviness of one's own high standards, perfectionism, over-responsibility. What holds me most – almost consumes me – is the gap between the facade we present to the world and the intensity hidden beneath it; between an outward steadiness and what it actually costs.

This way of seeing grew at the meeting point of two cultures, Russian and Korean, and a complex personal history. That prism reveals tension where someone else would see an even surface: what cannot be reconciled isn't forced to choose a side, and opposites are held together without being resolved. My work is not a record of objective reality but a translation of the invisible into the language of perception, where sensuality meets a strict visual system. A painting starts fast and by instinct – dry media and ink on paper, catching an idea while it's alive. Then slowly: oil brings it to its final form. A complete resolution would drain the feeling out of it, so the painting keeps room to break from the plan and take shape in the process.

The result is an attempt to give tangible form to what usually stays hidden – and a question, to myself and the viewer: what is the real cost of our outward steadiness, and what happens to a person when no one sees how hard each step is? This creates a space where the viewer recognises their own hidden states.