Part 2

There are many descriptions of the creative state. How would you describe it for you personally? Is there an element of spirituality to what you do?

I sometimes see that people love to sacralize the creative state, or that some artists use this sacralization as part of their marketing – like there’s something hidden and mysterious about the process, and that makes it feel more special.

From my perspective, the creative state is just a mix of rituals – things people physically do based on their inner work. The reality is, you have to spend a lot of time learning the things you need for your creative process. You have to know your tools, your instruments, and be able to use them freely.

Absorbing new experiences – reading, watching, talking, practicing, making mistakes, thinking, analyzing from different angles – at some point, you start seeing yourself as an instrument that translates nonverbal information into something real, whether it’s music, literature, or any other form of art.

Having all these skills and experiences make you feel like you are just a conductor – passing some energy through yourself and shaping it into something tangible. It might sound spiritual, and I guess it is. But there’s nothing mystical about it. If you do something for years, your brain just starts working differently. You develop self-understanding, and a certain way of looking at the world. And at some point, you naturally start making things that truly represent you. So the way you live fully shapes your art.

But of course, there’s always something you have to sacrifice in terms of an "ordinary" life being fully in a creative mode. So at some point, it can even feel like a kind of asceticism, where you limit yourself from certain things just to do what you feel internally obligated to do.

Once a piece is finished, how important is it for you to let it lie and evaluate it later on? How much improvement and refinement do you personally allow until you're satisfied with a piece? What does this process look like in practise?

It can be very useful to re-listen to a piece you've done later and look at it from a different perspective. I always do this with solo piano pieces because there are no extra layers to hide behind, no other instruments, and no space to add sound tricks to link different episodes together more smoothly – everything has to be very well made and played.

For instance, it took me a few attempts to put together “Cascades” (from the Outland album), and I ended up cutting some episodes or making them shorter in the final version.



I also usually re-listen to the whole album in its draft mode to make sure there's nothing extra or, on the other hand, that there isn’t something missing – sometimes it feels like another tune should be between certain tracks.

But once everything is recorded, mixed, and released, it's time to let it go, and then it’s sort of not my music anymore – I can listen to it mostly as a listener, and it exists as it is. Also, sometimes even during the mixing process, I might notice mistakes or think of other ways it could have been done differently.

But I usually just keep going, reminding myself that the best isn’t always for the better.

How do you think the meaning, or effect of an individual piece is enhanced, clarified or possibly contrasted by the EPs, or albums it is part of? Does each piece, for example, need to be consistent with the larger whole?

I love the idea of making albums. I see it as a beautiful challenge to blend different pieces together and unite them through some kind of inner dramaturgical process. Or, if you will, it’s like an architectural process – I mean, there's a special joy in building something big from small pieces.

Historically, the album format – 40 to 60 minutes - became kind of a standard, and it’s good for a physical release like a CD or vinyl, which can also be useful for marketing purposes.

But people were composing suites and symphonies centuries ago because they felt there was something more than just a single piece. Through a specific musical form, you can express something deeper, make your message more profound, and create a world that feels broader and richer.

Nowadays, there's the concept of a "conceptual album" which works best when listened to from start to finish. For example, my last album could also be seen as a conceptual album – there are 14 short and simple tunes that can work as standalone pieces, but they take on a different meaning when heard together.

By the time you reach the last track, it feels like you've been on a proper journey, experiencing the full 40 minutes as a complete story.

What's your take on the role and importance of production, including mixing and mastering for you personally? In terms of what they contribute to a song, what is the balance between the composition and the arrangement (performance)?

Sometimes, mixing the music properly is even more important than the actual material.

I mean, you can ruin a great idea with poor or just wrong mixing –simply because the person mixing your recording might feel differently about it and have a different vision, highlighting or hiding things in a way that goes against your original idea. That’s why it’s crucial to be on the same page with the person mixing your music.

I can do some basic things, but I’m not good at mixing at all, so every time, I need the right person who can suggest what we can do with the sound, what we can improve, etc. Vlad Avy, the sound engineer I work with, is someone who makes the process really comfortable. Without him, my recordings could have turned out completely different.

Sometimes, we have different opinions about the sound, but at the same time, we intuitively understand each other and manage to take only the best ideas from both sides, finding the right balance in terms of sound.

For instance, on my first album, there’s a track called “Echo / Sigh / Strand,” which is made up of three different pieces put together chaotically. It ends with a massive crescendo that is technically impossible to perform live – but you can create it in the mix.



That’s just the first example that comes to mind, but what I mean is that everyone involved in the production process, especially the mixing engineer, should have their own artistic vision that contributes to yours, rather than just doing the technical work. It sounds obvious, but it’s important to keep in mind.

After finishing a piece or album and releasing something into the world, there can be a sense of emptiness. Can you relate to this – and how do you return to the state of creativity after experiencing it?

Oh, the same thing happens every time! By the time you’ve finished an album and have the final master tracks in your hands, you feel drained – and sometimes even relieved, thinking how great it’ll be when other people can finally listen to it instead of you, since you’ve already did it a few hundred times.

But then, a few months later, when everything is ready for official release, you feel a strange lack of emotion – because, in a way, you already released that music a few months ago, and it’s not yours anymore.

Every time, I promise myself to throw some kind of party on release day or at least do something special, but those plans usually fall through because I’m busy or already focused on what’s next, or just not in the right mood.

As for future projects, I’m always happy and more than ready to jump into something new as soon as I finish the previous work. If I had more resources, I’d definitely be releasing twice as much music. But in reality, you have to leave some gaps between releases – so by the time it’s time for the next album, you’re more than ready for the next big creative journey.

I would love to know a little about the feedback you've received from listeners or critics about what they thought some of your songs are about or the impact it had on them – have there been “misunderstandings” or did you perhaps even gain new “insights?”

That’s the coolest part – there can’t be any misunderstandings at all. Moreover, most of the time, I wouldn’t even be able to give the "right" explanation myself.

In general, the music you listen to is just a universal key that can open different doors in different people’s imaginations. I’m happy when someone finds something in my music that I never expected – it can even help me rediscover my own work and see how it translates from another perspective.

There can also be homages or parts of tracks intentionally made to resemble music I personally love. I remember a few years ago, a lot of reviews mentioned that Kaleidoscope reminded them of '70s prog music, like early Gong. And that happens quite often – when music is complex, there’s a lot for people to take from it, and everyone finds something familiar in their own way. That’s why I’m really curious to see what people will say about my next recording and what comparisons they might make.

But when it comes to the conceptual side of music in general, I always say that once you listen to it, the music becomes yours – it becomes part of you during the listening process. Music only truly works when there is a listener. Without that, it’s just a combination of notes and rhythms with no meaning.

Creativity can reach many different corners of our lives. Do you personally feel as though writing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?

I think music is everywhere. You might not always recognize it, but our daily routines – even something as simple as making a great cup of coffee – that’s music too.

People usually want to listen to songs about something serious and mostly sad, but imagine how many cool possibilities there are to write a tune about making coffee? Or even turning a daily habit into a creative challenge – describing something very simple through music or any other form of art. That could be terrifying in a good way!

The thing is, even describing a boring process can open a door to another parallel universe, where things are different from what you're used to. And that’s the beauty of making art – you can reshape the world around you, creating your own version of it that reflects reality in a new way.

In other words, building fictional worlds using the tools and instruments you have around you – that’s the most fantastic thing we all have access to. And in that sense, everyone can be an artist in their own way.

Is there a topic you are passionate about but rarely get to talk about?

Well, to be honest, this interview is really interesting because we’ve touched on things that people don’t discuss very often.

I also often wonder why, in interviews with musicians, the conversation is almost always about music, without much mention of other forms of art. It’s interesting that many of my friends who are painters or visual artists are really into music, even though it’s completely different from what they do. And when you read their interviews, they often talk a lot about music. But musicians … it seems like we’re sometimes too over-focused on our own field. I don’t know.

Personally, I prefer watching films over listening to music – it gives me way more inspiration. If I have a free evening and have to choose between going to a concert or the cinema, of course, it depends, but most of the time, I’d rather go to the cinema.

How cool would it be to visit a film festival like Venice, Sundance, or Cannes and just spend a few days watching all the new films non-stop instead of making music again!