Book I: Drowned Mythologies
The mythologies of this book have not been forgotten — but drowned.
They rest beneath the surface of modernity, submerged in twilight, in the ashes of ancient rituals and in water that remembers more than man.
Their echoes return in gestures and symbols we have carried for millennia: in the ash of mourning, in the light of a candle, in the silence of the forest, in the water of memory.
Book I opens at the convergence of worlds: between the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm, where Death is just, and the rituals of the Ancient Near East, where man covered himself in ash; between Slavic nature and the Orphic promise of immortality.
It is a tale of a human still trying to negotiate with Death, though “whoever plays open cards with her always loses in the final move.”
Myth here is not the past.
Myth is that which returns — like ash drifting through the air, like water reflecting the face of anyone who leans over it.
Świtezianka
Godmother Death
True grief needs no audience.
The Shroud
The Memory Spring
Book II: Breathing in Ruins
Breathing in the Ruins.
The body confronts poisoned air. New roller skates and expensive training gear clash with concrete, dust and protective masks. Recreation slowly turns into an act of survival.
Inspired by the daily experience of breathing polluted air during handbike training and the real limitations of physical effort, the project follows the boundary where air becomes both necessity and threat.
Through narrative sequences — Warm-up, Threshold, Limit — the body gradually learns to accept impure breath until effort becomes an intimate confrontation with its own biology.
Raw, brutalist aesthetics. Cold colour palette, hard light, the texture of sweat and dust on skin. The striking contrast between shiny consumer equipment and decaying ruins, murals and concrete.
The mask — at once a prosthesis and a barrier.
Book II is a record of the entropy of motion and the anatomy of survival.
Breathing in Ruins
Dust settles on the skin like a memory that cannot be shaken off.
And she — in motion, in breath, in uncertainty — carves her path through a world
that stains faster than it allows her to breathe.
The First Layer of Dust
Dust slips beneath the skin like a prophecy of what will break.
The mask does not protect — it only teaches how to breathe in a world
that erodes strength faster than it allows it to grow.
Entropy of Motion
Book III: Anatomy of Decay
... opens like a rupture in reality — a fissure through which experience begins to seep toward the light of screens.
The body, once certain of its boundaries, trembles under the onslaught of new impulses: vibrations, signals, reflections.
Technology here is not a tool, but a second breath, a shadow learning to move in parallel with human existence.
In subsequent parts, the space between the organic and the synthetic pulses like a vein: expanding and contracting by turns, leading toward states of rapture, tension, and collapse.
It is a tale of slowly peeling away from one’s own skin, of immersing into an emission that promises closeness yet brings fission.
It is not, therefore, a document of transformation, but its trace — flickering, uncertain, yet irreversible.
On the Other Side of the Glow
Symbiosis / Parasite
Moodboard & Creative Concept
Algorithm of Love
The Final Notification
MOZa/KA
a collection of scattered stories
Here the mythology of the body steps beyond the canon.
There is no single bloodline, no continuous narrative. Only fragments — cracked, loose, sometimes contradictory. Stories that refused to fit inside the Books. Histories that fall apart and reassemble within the flesh.
MOZa/KA is a laboratory. A space where the body experiments with itself — beyond ritual, beyond chronology, beyond the demand for coherence. Here the skin cracks differently, breath finds another rhythm, and the boundary between the personal and the mythical is deliberately erased.
Each story is another broken tile in a mosaic whose whole will never be completed.
It doesn’t need to be.
Because entropy despises closed forms.
