Mila Chyżawska - An Interview with the Artist
Why did you become an artist?
I have loved painting since early childhood and already knew back then that I was an artist. From the very beginning, painting came naturally to me and brought me great joy. As I grew older, my conviction that art was my path became stronger and stronger. When I decided to study at the Academy of Fine Arts in Gdańsk to become a professional painter, it was important for me to do something meaningful and significant in life — something that would have real value both for myself and for others.
What is your art about?
The choice of sunflowers as a subject was determined by my deep connection to Ukraine. I grew up in a rural area where I could easily observe different natural landscapes, including vast sunflower fields. I often went outdoors to paint plein-air landscapes, and it was there that my artistic sensitivity was shaped. For several years now, I have been painting grasses and sunflowers — I admire the richness of their forms and colors, as well as how they change depending on the time of day and season.
The subject of the war in Ukraine is frighteningly difficult, yet I feel a deep need to write and paint about it. While exploring the changing meaning of the sunflower in the context of Ukrainian culture and the current political and social situation, I have noticed that since the beginning of the military aggression against Ukraine in 2014, this plant has taken on new and painful meanings — connected with the battlefield, the frontline, blood, sweat, the unimaginable struggle for life, home, family, and country, as well as courage and unwavering determination. At the same time, the sunflower remains for me a symbol of hope — I also paint it in joyful, luminous, life-affirming ways as an expression of faith in a better tomorrow. I expressed this, among other things, in the title of my latest exhibition at the University of Gdańsk — “Following the Sun” 2025.
Which of your works is the most important to you?
I have many works that are especially important to me. Some paintings were created during plein-air sessions in the areas where I grew up — places I know well and feel deeply connected to. They hold a special sentimental value for me; they are like preserved memories. I rarely show them — they remain something very personal.
Which contemporary artist do you admire?
I especially admire Anselm Kiefer — he feels close to me because through painting and profound symbolism he says so much about war, memory, and human existence. His works carry enormous weight and seriousness, while at the same time possessing incredible expressive power. The way he combines history with painterly material inspires me greatly and encourages me to reflect on my own work.
What does your creative process look like?
I draw inspiration primarily from nature — its rhythm, variability, and elusive beauty. Movement, discipline, and regularity are important in my work. I try to paint systematically because only then do I feel that I am truly developing as an artist. Ideas often come to me unexpectedly — I write them down and later analyze them visually and compositionally. Recently, I have increasingly drawn inspiration from attentive daily observation of my surroundings — from details that are easy to overlook but contain enormous painterly potential.
What are you jealous of in other artists?
In general, I am not someone who gets jealous easily — I try to focus on my own path and development. However, if I had to name something I lack, it would be a large, warm, bright, and aesthetically pleasing studio. Good light and space for work have an enormous impact on the creative process, and working in comfortable conditions allows one to think more freely and boldly.
What would you show someone visiting Ukraine for the first time?
If I were to show someone Ukraine, I would first of all show vast fields with abundant harvests, grain fields that seem to explode with prosperity and infinity — distant horizons and a sense of openness rarely found elsewhere. I would show the fascinating Dnipro River flowing like a backbone through the entire country. I would take them to the capital full of life and history, to the warm seas and picturesque mountains. I would show small houses in remote villages where time seems to flow differently. That is how I remember Ukraine — beautiful, vibrant, full of openness and peace. But now the grain fields have turned into battlefields, the little houses are being bombed, and the landscapes have changed their face under the shadow of war.
What does Ukrainian art have to offer? What are the most interesting phenomena?
I believe that Ukrainian art is currently experiencing a true rebirth. It is becoming increasingly authentic and courageous — a new language of expression is emerging, free from the Russification imposed for so long. Artists are finding their own identity and voice, reaching back to their roots while also looking toward the future. I see enormous expressive power in this art — direct, free from unnecessary refinement, born straight from experience and pain. That is what makes it exceptionally honest and moving.
What would you do if you were not a painter?
It is difficult for me to imagine life without painting — it is something absolutely fundamental to me. I believe that art is essential for human beings.
Would you like to add anything else?
Many things connect me deeply with Ukraine, and this undoubtedly leaves a profound mark on my art. On the other hand, Poland is increasingly becoming my home, and this dual perspective enriches my work in ways I could not have foreseen before. I am fascinated by national identity and the development of Polish art.
A selection of the artist’s currently available works can be found here: