This work is a home museum - something that every mother leaves as a memento of the birth of children. The objects included in the exhibition differ in that they cannot be bought, forged, or otherwise obtained. On the one hand, this is a very personal museum - its exhibits are of no value to others. But, on the other hand, any woman can have such a museum, because every mother preserves such objects.

I wanted to create a barely noticeable, almost invisible piece that, at the same time, would be quite laborious. This is a work about me - about the "invisible" - an unknown artist who works "on the table", at night, while everyone is asleep. My whole life is an invisible job: housework, childcare, making art that goes unnoticed by anyone.

What can a mother do while the baby is sleeping? Breastfed babies fall asleep for an hour or two until they get hungry again. This is, of course, if nothing bothers you. But sometimes they can wake up after 5, 10, 15 minutes - if they are teething or have a sore throat. In this job, I measured my free time day by day, limited by my child's sleep. I started work when my son was falling asleep, and I finished it when he woke up. Looking at individual embroideries, an observer can easily sense the disappointment of a young woman whose free time ended so quickly...

That's about what all women wear when they have children. Clothes for walking with a child should be warm, comfortable and unmarked. There's nothing stylish, personal, or beautiful about her. Everything in this set is subordinated to the maternal function - you can put a baby in a sling under a jacket, there are special holes for breastfeeding in a T-shirt, and large pockets in trousers to accommodate everything you need. Flat shoes are comfortable and do not get wet (they have been with me for more than ten years). The object is something like work clothes in which a woman can perform her maternal duties.

This project consists of sketches on paper, archival photographs and the works themselves, made from old children's things. I usually give clothes that have become too small to my children. But it happens that things are so worn out that they can no longer be given away - some cannot be washed, some have holes. These are the things I chose as the material for my project. I've always wanted to keep some of my children's clothes as a keepsake, but most of the time I've denied myself this, guided by the consideration that other people need them more. But when the children grew up and began to "stash" clothes, I had the opportunity to keep them for myself. I began to sew dolls, horses, and other animals, choosing folk toys as a figurative basis. I love these primitive but beautiful shapes, and when I sew, I feel a strong connection with the parents of the past who made toys for their children from improvised materials. This tradition is as old as the world. Mothers made toys for their children 100, 500 and 1000 years ago in a similar way. When I first showed this work at the exhibition, it aroused a response from some women, and they also began to sew toys and brought them to the exhibition to show.

"Penelope" is two series of embroideries about a strange movement, about a workflow that is unclear where it is moving (forward or backward), and whether it is moving at all. And also about routine, monotonous, everyday work. The six embroideries represent the image of a single piece that changes/does not change over time. The plot of these embroideries is confusion and doubt. As well as waiting - freezing and hovering at one point. From a visual point of view, I was interested in the situation of the non-obvious presence and absence of differences between the canvases. In one case, they are there, but rather insignificant, in the other case there are no differences - the canvases are the same.

The main plot of the Embroidery by Patterns series is the simplest embroidery kits, which include a color scheme, threads of certain colors, and a base. Such sets are popular among beginner embroiderers - children and women. These embroidery pictures with cute animals that serve to decorate the house, of course, are not considered works of art. It was interesting for me to work with them, exposing the "shimmer" of my identities - a professional artist, a housewife, as well as a child artist who, playing and experimenting, changes the color scheme, thus staging a kind of rebellion against the bourgeoisie.

While the child is growing, you have to buy a lot of the same products - fruit puree, nasal aspirators, vitamins and medicines for colds. I started this series of home collecting when I gave birth to my third child, and I have several small collections.

In this series, I used coloring pages by numbers, which are popular among amateur artists. I changed the palette (at my discretion, in random order), thus destroying the plot image. Some of the sheets turned out to be abstract, ornately flat, and some of the works delineate the outlines of certain interior landscapes. In this series, I reflect on the fine line between the professional and the profane, wondering if art is always hard work, or if sometimes it can be a fun game. Once again, I can't wait to see what happens as a result of this fun game.

This job is a reflection of maternal scarcity and fatigue. Unsuccessful attempts to stretch out and cover all household and family needs. Be as smooth and efficient as possible. Keep up with everything. The beauty is to allow yourself to "not have enough for everything", to be alive. the fact is that these are kind of time counters.

Recently, I thought it was too late to start a career in contemporary art - you have to be at least ten years younger. And you also need to not have children - to be free, brave and active. And the name needs to be shorter, clearer and more memorable, for example, Nadia. I've never liked my name. And the art of doing something completely different. My first desire was to start all over again - delete accounts, redo the work. But I realized that it was difficult for me - I'm sorry for the work I've done, I'm not ready to give it up.But I can at least briefly imagine myself as a different person, younger, bolder and freer. Such an experiment. As a figurative basis, I took the children's game of "secrets" - when you bury various "treasures" in the sand (wrappers, beads, flower petals), covering them with a piece of glass. For this job, I used unnecessary "treasures" of my children. Perhaps someone will look at these works and remember their childhood. She'll remember how smooth the glass feels when you wipe it clean of sand...

Every artist can become a housewife, and every housewife can become an artist. The main thing is to find the right material. Salt and flour combined in equal proportions, a little water, and you get a dough that hardens when baking. This sculptural material is easy to make and use, always accessible, economical, and, most importantly, with its help, a woman can reflect her experiences: the monotony of daily work, fatigue and tension, aging, and the feeling of time slipping away. The attitude towards the test as a profane material that is suitable only for children's creativity is similar to the attitude towards women's domestic work (and sometimes to the work of an artist), which is not considered professional or qualified.

In this episode, I stop as soon as I start working. To look around, to be attentive and empathetic. I stop because by chance, of course, something interesting happened. Something light, barely perceptible, something that shouldn't be achieved through effort or on purpose, because that's how it was intended. Something came spontaneously, and I let it happen. How often, in my haste to get work done, do I run past such wonderful, mysterious possibilities! But not today. Not this time.

The main plot of this work is a faded, faded, but at the same time mysterious and mysterious image. An image that hides, dissolves, and slips away. I use the embroidery scheme as a base, but I choose threads of the lightest possible tones, so the image disappears and stops being read.

My artistic practice is based on documenting everyday life and collecting various kinds of collections. In this series of photos, I decided to capture the mess that my children left behind after playing. For a month, I filmed a game room on my smartphone, which also served as my workshop. The subject of my interest in this "collection of disorder" is both the game itself (the process) and its traces - the result that remained after this process. I find this "aesthetics of chaos" very interesting, the resulting composition of color spots, an installation of many small sculptural forms that constantly changes.