Viktoria Adkozalova
Viktoria Adkozalova was born on October 3, 1987 in Feodosia, Ukraine.
From early childhood, she showed a love of drawing. One of Viktoria's sources of inspiration was a landscapes and expanses of her native Crimea.
In 2002, Viktoria graduated from the Aivazovsky art school, making the first step in her career.
The next stage was the Kherson National Technical University, where she studied design and painting under the guidance of the famous Ukrainian artist Galina Sorokhan. During her student years, Viktoria demonstrates her creative abilities and takes part in various art exhibitions.
Since 2009, he has been actively engaged in professional creative activities and studies at the National Pedagogical University named after Dragomanov at the faculty of Musical Art.
Viktoria is a participant and winner of various international art exhibitions and competitions. Creates painting and graphic works, VR-art and installations. Participated in the creation of the VR film “The New Sensitivity” for the Blockchain Art Hackathon project.
The artist's art-works were selected by an international jury for projects - Ukrainian Art Week; Ukrainian contemporary women's art fest; ONE DAY AFTER Kyiv History Museum.
Viktoria's works are present in private collections in the USA, Hong Kong, Germany, Austria, France and Kyiv History Museum.
The theme of the artist's works is the theme of the Universe ... The parallel lines present on the canvases symbolize the essence of being and the endless flow forward. Similar to the String theory, which states that the smallest particles are the strings that sound and create our universe. The intention to comprehend the world of emotions and feelings, an attempt to penetrate into the inner world of a viewer to touch the mystery of his soul.
The artist mainly paints in oils, but also uses a mixed technique, adding gold foil and acrylic paints.
Viktoria chose the grotesque as the main artistic technique with which she creates an integral picture of the world in the image of an animal or a person. Revealing the interconnection of everything living on Earth.
The artist's canvases often feature the image of a woman. Viktoria explains this as follows: "A woman for me is the Universe. Her emotional states and feelings in the beauty of the moment makes me abandon the color and detail of the image, the personification of faces, leaving the viewer to think only the artistic image
Viktoria, your work often portrays a symbolic connection between humanity and the universe through metaphors like parallel lines and string theory. How do you reconcile the scientific inspiration behind these motifs with the deeply emotional and often spiritual experience your art evokes?
My work is born at the intersection of science, philosophy, and personal experience. I have always been fascinated by the fundamental laws of the universe—string theory, the concept of multidimensionality, and ideas from quantum physics.These scientific models explain the world through connections and interactions, which, to me, deeply resonate with human nature, emotions, and the way we perceive reality.
Parallel lines, thin threads, intersections—they are not just visual elements but metaphors for the invisible connections that exist between people, events, and time. In my art, I strive to convey this sense of interconnectedness, not through a dry scientific interpretation but through an intuitive, emotional experience.
The emotional and spiritual aspects of my work emerge naturally because, even when viewing the universe through a scientific lens, I see something profoundly poetic in it. Our entire existence is composed of rhythms, vibrations, and intersecting energies. I do not separate the scientific from the spiritual—to me, they are two languages describing the same phenomenon in different ways.
The viewer can feel this idea on an emotional level, even without knowing the theoretical foundation of my work. This is especially important to me—to ensure that art not only communicates concepts but also evokes a personal response, awakens inner questions, and creates a sense of belonging to something greater.
The use of grotesque forms in your work creates a tension between the familiar and the surreal. How do you navigate the delicate balance of evoking discomfort while still maintaining the accessibility of universal themes, and what do you hope viewers take away from this interplay?
Grotesque in my art is a way to reveal an inner truth hidden beneath the surface of familiar images. I do not use it to shock but rather to create a space for reflection, a deeper dialogue between the viewer and the artwork. When the familiar begins to look different, it encourages a person to see the world from a new perspective, to step beyond the boundaries of ordinary perception.
My works do not contain aggressive distortions of form, but I enjoy combining realistic elements with symbolic and abstract details. This approach allows me to create multi-layered compositions where every detail carries meaning. For example, hair can transform into a landscape, merging humanity with nature, while gold fragments symbolize eternity and the sacred.
I strive for my viewers not just to look at a painting but to feel immersed in it. It is a balance between reality and imagination, between the specific and the universal. I hope that my work evokes not only aesthetic pleasure but also contemplation about the interconnectedness of all things, the fine line between the visible and the invisible, the material and the spiritual.
The abstraction of women in your art removes personal identifiers, focusing instead on emotional essence. What does this abstraction reveal about your perception of identity and the universality of human experiences, especially in the context of gender and emotion?
In my work, female figures are not tied to a specific individual—they are more symbolic, reflecting states of being, emotions, and inner experiences. I intentionally avoid detailed facial features because I don’t want the viewer to see just one particular woman. Instead, I strive to create a universal archetype in which anyone can recognize a part of themselves.
The emotions I convey transcend gender or personal experience. Loneliness, love, connection to nature, the search for meaning—these are themes that resonate with everyone, regardless of identity. That’s why I’m interested in balancing abstraction and recognizability: my figures seem to dissolve into space, becoming part of something greater, yet they still retain a vibrant, emotional energy.
I believe that art is a language of emotions, and if a piece makes the viewer feel something personal, it has already become part of their story. This is where universality lies—the ability to find a response within oneself, even when faced with an abstract, almost faceless silhouette.
Your exploration of mixed media, including gold foil and acrylics, suggests a fascination with texture and depth. How does the tactile quality of these materials contribute to the narrative layers within your work, and what role do you believe materiality plays in shaping a viewer’s connection to a piece?
For me, material is not just a means of expression but a full-fledged language through which I create depth and layers in my work. I use gold foil, texture pastes, acrylic, and oil to convey not only a visual image but also a physical sensation of space, time, and emotion.
Gold in my paintings is not just a decorative element but a symbol of light and eternity.
Texture plays a crucial role in forming a tactile connection between the viewer and the artwork. Even if a person cannot physically touch the piece, they can feel its materiality through their eyes. Rough brushstrokes, smooth surfaces, delicate transitions—all of these create a multilayered narrative in which everyone can find their own point of connection.
It is important to me that my works are not just images but living, dynamic objects that engage in dialogue with the viewer, revealing new meanings with every glance.
Crimea, with its landscapes and cultural history, has been a recurring influence in your work. How has the geopolitical turmoil surrounding the region shaped your artistic voice, and do you view your connection to Crimea as an anchor or a point of departure for broader explorations?
Crimea is not just a place on the map for me; it is a space of memory, a symbol of roots, childhood, and an inner home. Its landscapes, light, air, and the texture of the land are deeply woven into my perception of the world and inevitably manifest in my art.
Political instability adds new layers of meaning to this image. For me, Crimea is not only a place of strength but also a symbol of loss, identity search, and change. I don’t see it as a limiting factor but rather as a starting point—an energy source that evolves alongside me and my work.
In projects like the VR film ‘The New Sensitivity’, you merge traditional artistic methods with cutting-edge technology. How do you see these mediums coexisting in the future of art, and how do you approach ensuring that technological elements do not overshadow the conceptual core of your work?
I see technology not as a replacement for traditional artistic methods but as an expansion of perception. VR, digital tools, and interactive media offer new ways to engage the viewer, allowing them not just to observe but to immerse themselves in the space of art.
However, it is essential for me that technology remains a tool rather than the ultimate goal. Concept always comes first, and technology serves to deepen its expression. Maintaining a balance between visual impact and meaningful content is crucial so that the novelty of the medium does not overshadow the emotional essence of the artwork.
I believe the future of art lies not in the opposition between traditional and digital but in their synthesis. Contemporary technologies open new ways of interacting with art, but at its core, there will always be personal experience, thought, and emotion—things that no technological effect can replace.
The philosophical underpinnings of your work—string theory, the essence of being, the universe—are immensely complex. How do you approach simplifying these vast concepts into visual forms without diluting their intellectual depth?
I do not aim to explain complex scientific and philosophical ideas literally. Instead, I convey them through imagery that can be felt on an intuitive level. String theory, the interconnectedness of all things, and the nature of existence are difficult to express in words, but they resonate through the rhythm of lines, the interaction of forms, and the balance between emptiness and density in composition.
It is important to me that the viewer does not simply “read” the concept but experiences it visually. For example, fine lines can symbolize the timeline of life, while abstract figures represent human experience without clear boundaries. I create a space where complex ideas become not abstract theories but personal experiences.
Thus, I do not simplify these concepts but transform them into a language accessible through emotions, sensations, and visual intuition. This allows each viewer to find their own interpretation and understanding of these profound yet universal themes.
Your pieces often bridge the gap between personal introspection and universal commentary. How do you manage the tension between creating art as an individual, with personal experiences and emotions, and addressing themes meant to resonate universally across diverse audiences?
For me, art is always personal. I cannot create a piece unless it resonates with me emotionally. However, despite the subjectivity of my experiences, I recognize that the emotions I convey are universal. Love, loneliness, the search for meaning, and the connection to the world are themes that every person experiences, regardless of their background or culture.
I strive to find a balance between personal depth and openness to interpretation. For example, my figures are not tied to specific faces or events; they are more symbolic, allowing the viewer to see their own story within them. Art operates on the level of emotions and associations, so even if a work is born from my personal experience, it can evoke completely different but equally profound feelings in the viewer.
I believe that the more sincere the artist is, the easier it is for the audience to feel a sense of connection. Art is a bridge between the inner world of the creator and the emotions of those who engage with it. It is at this point of intersection that universality is born.
The concept of interconnection is central to your work, yet you often depict figures in isolation, abstracted from context. How do you view the relationship between solitude and universality in your art, and what does this duality mean in the context of modern society’s fragmented nature?
Loneliness in my work is not a detachment from the world but a moment of inner contemplation. I often depict figures in solitude, but this is not isolation—it is more of a pause, a space where the depth of the inner world unfolds. A person may appear alone on the surface, but they are always part of something greater—nature, time, the universe.
This duality is important to me: we perceive ourselves as separate, yet we are inherently connected to something infinitely larger. The modern world creates an illusion of total connectedness through technology, yet it often amplifies a sense of alienation. I am interested in exploring this balance—the quiet moments when a person is alone with themselves, yet still intrinsically linked to their surroundings.
I see solitude as a space for reflection and meaning rather than disconnection. In this state, a person becomes more attuned to the invisible threads that connect them to the world, to others, and to themselves.
In a world increasingly dominated by digital art and fleeting visual trends, how do you ensure the timelessness and contemplative nature of your work? How do you see your art contributing to a dialogue about permanence and impermanence in contemporary culture?
In my work, time is not linear but layered and fluid. I strive to create art that transcends trends because it speaks the language of emotions and inner states rather than fleeting visual aesthetics.
It is important to me that the viewer does not simply glance at a piece but lingers, feels, and discovers new meanings over time. I use layering, textures, and light interplay to make my works “live” and shift in perception. This creates a sense of dialogue, where the artwork does not offer an immediate answer but invites contemplation.
The digital era has made art more accessible, but it has also accelerated its consumption. I try to move in the opposite direction—creating images that require time, attention, and engagement. This is my dialogue with transience: not resisting time but finding depth within it.