What is the best thing that I love about my work?
The most rewarding aspect of my work is the moment when I see that same spark ignite in my students’ eyes – the very spark that once transformed me. I love my profession because it allows me to live simultaneously across many epochs, to view the present through the prism of the past, and – most importantly, to share this vision with others. This is not merely teaching; it is cultivating a sense of time, space, and context. I cherish being the one who asks questions rather than simply providing answers. Sometimes I feel that true teaching is a form of trust: we trust one another that knowledge matters, that the past is significant, and that we are not alone in our search. I also deeply value the opportunity to delve into the depths of art, to explore visual culture, and to share this insight with others.
What is my idea of happiness?
For me, happiness is a profound sense of meaning. It is not necessarily ease or joy. It is that state when I understand that my efforts carry weight. When I am in the lecture hall and see that my words have resonated – that is happiness. When I write about an artist and suddenly discover something new, something elusive – that too is happiness. Happiness is when what I love responds to the world. Sometimes it flickers like a candle, but it is always present.
What is my greatest fear?
My greatest fear is not failure or mistakes. It is the possibility that at some point I might lose passion. That routine or exhaustion will extinguish the inner fire that led me to this path. As a historian and educator, I fear ceasing to ask questions; I fear becoming trapped in familiar lectures and phrases. I fear betraying the living curiosity within me. This fear, however, keeps me moving forward.
What is the trait that I most deplore in myself?
Sometimes, it is excessive self-demand. That inner critic who always says: «This is not deep enough yet. You can do better. You must do more». It prevents me from relaxing, even at moments of achievement. While it keeps me sharp, it also denies me the simple grace of being. I am learning gentleness toward myself, because fatigue should never be a hallmark of success.
Which living persons in my profession do I most admire?
I admire those who combine scholarly rigor with human sensitivity – those who can speak about complexity simply. Among the lecturers and researchers I respect are those unafraid to challenge conventions, who empower students not only with knowledge but with the ability to think independently. I admire those who retain their love for the subject, even after decades of teaching.
What is the thing that I dislike the most in my work?
Bureaucracy. All those papers, reports, spreadsheets that sometimes consume the time and inspiration I would rather devote to my students or research. It is draining because it lacks resonance. I love live communication – not dialogue with an Excel document.
When and where was I the happiest, in my work?
Probably the day when a student approached me after class and said, «After your lecture, I understood why I want to become an art historian». It was not my personal success, but a moment when something I said became a point of support for someone else. That day, I felt that I was truly doing what I was meant to do.
If I could, what would I change about myself?
Perhaps I would learn to trust the process more, to not try to control everything down to the last word. Sometimes I cling to structure as a lifeline when I actually need to learn to flow. Being calmer, kinder to uncertainty, that is what I aspire to.
What is my greatest achievement in work?
Not a single publication, nor a particular lecture, but the ability to remain true to myself in the academic world, where often values differ from those I hold dear. My greatest achievement is that I have not lost the sense of a living connection with what I teach.
Who is my greatest fan, sponsor, partner in crime?
Perhaps my greatest «fan» is the part of myself that continues to believe, even when doubt takes hold elsewhere within me. Then there are my students – with their curiosity, questions, and unexpected insights. They offer the most honest and meaningful feedback I could ask for; their engagement reaffirms that the path I’ve chosen truly matters.
My parents have always stood by me. And my partner in this «creative conspiracy» is also my fiancé. His support is quiet but unwavering. He knows how to hold space for my uncertainty, how to remain silent when words aren’t needed, and how to make me laugh when nothing else makes sense. With him, I don’t need to perform or pretend – and that, to me, is a rare and precious kind of happiness.
Where would I most like to live?
In Kyiv. Only in Kyiv. It is not merely a city – it is my homeland, my personal cosmos. Here lie my streets, my air, my rhythm. This city teaches me endurance, tenderness, and perseverance. Here, I feel a profound connection to the generations before me and those yet to come. I do not seek an ideal – I am grateful for authenticity.
What is my most treasured possession?
It is my notebook – a diary of thoughts and impressions, where I record ideas for lectures, quotations from books, fragments of overheard phrases, and my own insights. It is not merely a notebook – it is the space of my thinking, an echo of my internal dialogue. Within it lives my thought before it becomes words shared with others.
What is my most marked characteristic?
Depth. I do not engage with the superficial. Subtexts, structures, and meanings are significant to me. In conversation, in art, in research – I always strive to uncover the essence. This is both my strength and my challenge, as I rarely allow myself to simply «let go» and remain on the surface.
What is my most inspirational location, in my city?
The Kyiv landscape as seen from Volodymyr Hill at dawn. The city still seems asleep, but the sky is already brightening, and I feel the breath of centuries. For me, this place is a point of convergence: history, hope, and memory. Here, I sense that every lecture, every word I speak, bears a deeper connection to space and time.
What is my favorite place to eat and drink, in my city?
A small café near my workplace — always quiet, with the subtle scent of fresh bread and books lingering in the air. It’s a place where one can write, observe, and listen. Here, coffee is not just a drink but a ritual. Time seems to pause, and the inner voice begins to speak.
What books influenced my life and how?
It’s hard to single out just one book, but The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis continues to resonate with me in a way that is both subtle and lasting. I first encountered it not just as a literary work, but as an invitation to look inward. It teaches the art of recognizing one’s own inner distortions – with honesty, with humility, and even with a sense of ironic grace. This book taught me to pause. To listen when the inner voice grows quiet. To resist the seduction of being «clever» at the cost of being sincere. And to remember that the battles that matter most often happen within.
You Only Die Once. What music would I listen to on my last day?
Probably something powerful – Only God Can Judge Me, Tupac Shakur.
Who is my hero or heroine in fiction?
Antoine Roquentin from Sartre’s Nausea – one who dared to see things in their strange truth. And Miriam from Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse – a woman capable of seeing, feeling, and preserving deep, subtle beauty within herself.
Who are my heroes and heroines in real life?
My real-life heroes are those scholars, educators, and cultural activists who tirelessly advocate for the preservation and advancement of Ukrainian art and history under challenging circumstances.
Which movie would I recommend to see once in a lifetime?
Vanilla Sky by Cameron Crowe is a film that transcends conventional storytelling and immerses the viewer in a profound psychological and philosophical exploration of identity, reality, and desire. It confronts the fragility of human perception and the complex interplay between dreams and waking life. The film’s narrative structure, blending elements of romance, mystery, and science fiction, invites deep reflection on the nature of happiness and the price of self-deception. Watching Vanilla Sky is a singular experience that challenges one’s understanding of consciousness and the self, making it a memorable and thought-provoking cinematic journey.
What role do stories play in my life and work?
Stories are my language. I perceive the world through narratives – grand and modest. Through them, I teach, analyze, and empathize. Every artwork is a story. Every epoch is a myth. The ability to immerse oneself in the depths of art, to explore visual culture, and to share this vision with others – this is my vocation.
What do the words «You are the storyteller of your own life» mean to me?
It is not about control but responsibility. About choosing how to interpret oneself, how to compose each day – through words, actions, and feelings. And even when it seems that everything has long been written – I can still change the intonation.
Which people or companies would I like to work with?
I’m open to collaborating with a wide range of people and organizations who share a commitment to meaningful, thoughtful work. Whether it’s academic institutions, cultural organizations, creative teams, or innovative companies, I value partnerships that encourage growth, curiosity, and the exchange of ideas. I believe that working with diverse perspectives enriches any project and leads to more impactful outcomes.
What project am I looking forward to work on?
One of the projects I’m truly looking forward to is more than just academic research. It is both a personal and scholarly calling – an attempt to understand how visual culture shapes our ability to see, perceive, and interpret the world. As an art historian, I am deeply fascinated by how prolonged engagement with artistic imagery cultivates not only aesthetic sensitivity but also a kind of visual intuition – a trained gaze that gradually becomes second nature. In my work, I seek to weave together classical art theory, contemporary visual studies, and personal experience to more deeply explore how artistic vision is formed across various cultural contexts, with a particular focus on Ukraine.
Where can you see me or my work?
You can find me at the university – during classes, defenses, in the corridors where genuine conversations are born. At academic conferences, in art history articles, at open lectures. I am present where inquiry and questioning thrive, rather than ready-made answers. And also on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/issue.art/
What do the words «Passion Never Retires» mean to me?
It is an absolute truth. The passion for knowledge, vision, meaning – it never tires. You can change the pace, but not the direction. I cannot imagine myself «retiring» from thinking, from visiting a new exhibition, or from jotting down a new idea at three in the morning. Passion is not a phase. It is breathing.
Which creative heroines should Peter invite to tell their story?
Anna Veriki
January
Yevheniia Fedchenko
How can you contact me?
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/issue.art/
The Heroine's Journey 