This work is dedicated to my removed spleen — a silent organ with a loud cultural echo. In English and French literary traditions, “spleen” became synonymous with melancholy, ennui, and existential fatigue. To be “a man without a spleen” once meant to be cured of illusion, anchored in reality. But what does it mean to carry its absence in the body?

Here, the scar becomes both wound and witness — a visible trace of an invisible transformation. It marks not just a loss, but a shift: from fragility to resilience, from silence to form. The body, interrupted, begins to speak.

A pristine, shimmering painting that mimics the surface of porcelain. It captures the eye with its unusual central element — a human navel. This element symbolizes a profound reflection on the purity and intimacy of human nature. To be pure is not about striving for a sterile ideal but about recognizing that our wounds, vulnerabilities, and joys are an integral part of this profound purity.

The burned surface of the painting and the inventory number serve as a metaphor for the attempt to comprehend the structure of meaning and to divide the world into “understandable” categories.
This work is a call to reflect on the nature of control and freedom, and on how easily numbers can lose their connection to real people and their stories. The “inventory number” stands as a testament to lost hopes and freedoms, but it also serves as a reminder that each of us has the right to ask questions, to seek answers, and to fight for our own story.

Creating this painting required more than 100 packets of bandages, which I rewrapped and saturated with varnish across all layers. In my art, the national symbol breaking through the bandages signifies the resilience of the Belarusian people, acknowledging our collective pain. This work is an homage to our shared struggles, embodying the spirit of resilience and the hope for healing and liberation. The symbol serves not just as a testament to our hardships, but also as a beacon of our enduring strength and unyielding determination. Through my art, I aim to tell our stories, give voice to our experiences, and contribute to our shared narrative of resilience, triumph, and hope.

This artwork has a special story. I started it in Belarus at a moment when I was forced to evacuate urgently due to political repression. Later, while I was in Kyiv, I received the painting and completed it within two months during my stay there.

When the war began, I had to flee once again — I left all my works in the bathroom of a rented apartment and went to Poland. Later, during wartime, I managed to retrieve “The Sacrifice” along with two other paintings — they were sent to me from Kyiv to Poland.

This painting has traveled a long road with me.