
Aliaksandra Markava
Belarus
Contemporary Art
"I believe—through my own experience—that creativity holds a gentle, transformative power. Art can soothe, ground, and heal. It invites us to slow down, to feel more deeply, and to think with greater clarity. In times of uncertainty, it becomes a quiet sanctuary. For me, creating is an act of love—subtle, intuitive, and sincere. It is a way to listen to the world and to oneself. Through colors, textures, and shifting forms, I seek not only to express but to connect, to evoke something tender and timeless in the viewer. Art does not demand loud answers; it asks for presence."


Rooted in a background of film and storytelling, Aliaksandra Markava approaches painting as a quiet continuation of her search for meaning through image. Born in Belarus and originally trained in Screen Arts, she worked as a director and documentary filmmaker before turning toward the tactile and contemplative world of visual art.Her multidisciplinary practice includes painting, drawing, collage, ceramics, photography, and video. Influenced by literature, mythology, and nature, her works unfold like visual poems—intimate, symbolic, and emotionally resonant. A childhood shaped by books and a family culture of creativity continues to echo in the lyrical atmosphere of her art. Recurring throughout her work is the presence of the sea—not as a landscape, but as an emotional space. Each coastline she has encountered becomes a memory, a tone, a rhythm. Light and shadow drift across her surfaces with cinematic sensitivity, revealing landscapes of inward reflection. Whether working from life or through abstraction, Markava seeks to capture something ephemeral and true. Her recent explorations in mixed media and video reflect an evolving yet grounded voice. For her, art is not only an act of expression, but a gentle, attentive way of being—one that listens, heals, and remembers.
Mist and Memory – A Sea of Quiet Secrets
Somewhere between light and silence, images begin to surface. Not from film reels this time, but from layers of pigment and breath. There are no crashing waves here—only the hush of tides turning inward. Mist softens the horizon, as if the sea itself were remembering something too fragile to name. Each painting is a fragment of an unseen story: salt in the air, a flicker of silver, a dream that dissolves at the edge of form. Landscapes become emotions. Water becomes memory. And just beneath the surface, something lingers— a secret waiting to be felt rather than found.































