GLAMOUR THAT DISTURBS: IN CONVERSATION WITH PAVEL

My work always begins like a vision, a sensation before a story, a mood I feel in my body before I can name it. That sensation becomes a part of me: a figure half-alive, half-departed. Sometimes it becomes an atmosphere, a place that seems to remember something. I build from instinct first, then the body enters, then the covering and uncovering, and slowly the figure becomes a presence -part human, part spectral.

Because they are part of me, and I’m being invited to connect wit them. And, honestly, the everyday human bores me. I’m drawn to forms that stretch beyond what we expect a person to be, it stirs something inside me, like an internal calling. My distortion reveals truth: fragility, desire, exaggeration, all of it uncovers my vulnerability and allows me to explore states too vast for realism to contain. I’m always chasing the point where beauty becomes unsettling, and the creature becomes magnetic.

Self-fiction is where I can be honest without being literal I use my own body, but I refuse to give it to the viewer nakedly. I would rather cover it, multiply it, distort it and transform it into something symbolic. I’ve lived many lives, and I feel asked to share fragments of them in this lifetime. These selves extend me.They protect and expose me at the same time.

It began with my cultural background, growing up surrounded b doctrines, churches, rituals, and dogmas. While I was forced into religion, I discovered the beauty of paganism behind it, and the tension between the two shaped me. The gothic, with its drama, heaviness, and ritual, felt like home. It lets me explore tension, mortality, and myth, the emotional shores I naturally inhabit.

For me, glamour must disturb. It must disrupt It’s the moment something refined becomes slightly unsettling, slightly wrong, slightly too intense. Commercial glamour performs perfection.My version performs temptation, seducing and unsettling at once. My 'glamour' is the emotion you feel when you’re drawn to something you don’t fully trust.

I’m drawn to places where time isn’t linear, places where something has happened, or could happen, or is still happening in the air. Often, I create my own space to allow this to unfold. A location speaks to me when it mirrors my internal landscape: restraint, tension, transformation, and the feeling of being caught between states.

It’s never “performance. I’m simply living my life, and the worlds and past selves within me express themselves through my body. These aren’t any acts, they are sort of activations. My process is deeply ritualistic: sacred objects, bodily tension, and even my breath become part of the composition.

A new chapter is forming around stillness and austerity, fewe ornaments, more power. Something sharper, more architectural, more controlled. I’m interested in almost clinical environments, and figures who feel like divine witnesses rather than apparitions. A world where softness becomes integrated into the mundane, quietly, intensely, inevitably.