At the heart of El Parque is a quiet yet deeply emotional exploration of loneliness across generations. What inspired you to tell this story, and what was the starting point for the film?

The starting point was my reflection on the increasingly self-centered culture we live in today. While it offers greater individual freedom, it can also create emotional distance between people. I became interested in exploring how contemporary society can intensify feelings of isolation.

El Parque grew from this reflection and became my way of exploring loneliness not simply as something negative, but as a deeply human condition that connects us regardless of age or circumstance.

 

Loneliness is the emotional core of El Parque, yet you explore it through different generations. Why did you choose a public park as the setting where these parallel lives intersect?

The idea originated from spending time in a public park, where I found myself observing how elderly people spend their days. I became fascinated by their routines, gestures, and the quiet emotions reflected on their faces. Gradually, I realized that a park is almost like a world of its own—a self-contained space that nevertheless remains part of the larger city.

As I developed the film, I knew I wanted to recreate my favorite park in my hometown of Kyiv and its surroundings. Reimagining that familiar place through animation allowed me to create a world that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. The park became more than just a setting; it evolved into a silent character, gently bringing together lives that might otherwise never intersect.

 

The film follows four characters whose lives unfold in parallel. How did you approach building these different emotional journeys while keeping them connected within a ten-minute runtime?

Finding the right rhythm was essential. Every scene needed to serve a clear emotional purpose, making pacing a crucial part of the storytelling. I carefully balanced the duration of each sequence with its framing and visual composition, ensuring that every shot contributed something meaningful. I wanted the imagery to carry much of the emotional weight, allowing viewers to discover the connections between the characters for themselves. This approach keeps the film visually immersive while preserving its quiet simplicity.

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Animation often allows filmmakers to express emotions in ways that live action cannot. What made animation the right medium for El Parque, and how did it shape the storytelling?

El Parque was conceived as an animated film from the very beginning. Animation allowed me to create a poetic, symbolic world where emotions are conveyed through color, movement, rhythm, and visual metaphor rather than dialogue. Because every visual element can be carefully shaped and imbued with meaning, animation became the ideal medium for telling this story.

 

Your work is described as being driven by originality, innovation, and emotional resonance. How do these principles influence your creative process, from the first idea to the finished film?

It comes from being honest with an idea and allowing it to develop its own visual language. Every project begins with an emotion or a question that stays with me, and everything else—the imagery, color palette, pacing, and sound—naturally grows from that core. Innovation is simply another creative tool. I enjoy experimenting with techniques and technologies whenever they genuinely serve the story.

 

You began directing experimental films before moving into animation. How has your background in experimental cinema influenced your visual language and narrative style in El Parque?

I believe every project leaves an imprint on the next. As filmmakers, we shape our visual language through the act of making films rather than through theory alone. Each project deepens our understanding of the medium and inevitably influences what comes after.

My background in experimental cinema taught me to pay close attention to the smallest details and to think beyond conventional storytelling structures. It encouraged me to trust atmosphere, rhythm, and visual intuition as much as narrative. Those principles became central to El Parque.

 

Although the story is quiet and intimate, it touches on universal themes such as isolation, ageing, and human connection. What conversations or emotions do you hope viewers take away after watching the film?

A recurring visual motif throughout the film is the blank white sheet of paper. For me, it represents loneliness itself. Loneliness can feel empty, undefined, and even frightening, much like a blank page. But a blank page is also full of possibility.

The film suggests that loneliness is not only an absence—it can also become a space for reflection, transformation, and creativity. I hope viewers leave the film thinking not only about isolation but also about our capacity to shape our emotional landscapes and find meaning even in moments of solitude.

 

As both the writer and director, how do you balance the creative freedom of controlling the entire vision with the challenges that come with wearing multiple hats during production?

I genuinely enjoy wearing multiple hats throughout the filmmaking process. For me, writing and directing are inseparable; I cannot imagine doing one without the other. Together, they allow me to preserve the emotional and artistic integrity of a project from its earliest conception to the final frame.

I also rely heavily on intuition. I often think of it as an internal compass that guides every creative decision, telling me when something still needs refinement and when it has reached its natural conclusion. That instinct helps me balance the pursuit of perfection with the willingness to let a film exist on its own terms.

 

Your films have been screened internationally, from Scotland and Italy to the United States, Finland, and Australia. Have you noticed different cultural responses to your work, particularly regarding the theme of loneliness?

Of course, audiences bring different cultural perspectives and personal experiences, but I've found that certain things resonate the same regardless of cultural differences. While viewers may interpret some visual symbols differently, the emotional core of my films remains remarkably consistent across audiences. That has been one of the most rewarding aspects of screening my work internationally.

 

In multidisciplinary art, how effective do you find the combination of traditional techniques with AI?

I believe traditional artistic practices and AI can coexist in a very natural way when the technology genuinely serves the creative vision. Like any artistic tool, AI should never replace the idea—it should support, enrich, and expand it.

Recently, I developed Particles (2026), a companion project that reinterprets selected works from my previous exhibitions through AI-driven transformation. I was genuinely pleased with the outcome, and the work will be presented as part of an upcoming exhibition in Italy in autumn 2026. For me, AI expands creative possibilities without diminishing artistic authorship. It is another medium through which an artist can explore, reinterpret, and communicate ideas while remaining fully responsible for the creative vision behind the work.

 

Your filmmaking style has always been highly intuitive, keeping a complete mental map of the sound, imagery, and pacing inside your mind during production. How did you cope emotionally or mentally with the unexpected outputs that AI video models may produce?

Working with AI requires patience and persistence. Unexpected outputs are simply part of the creative process, much like working with any artistic medium. Rather than becoming frustrated, I see these moments as an ongoing dialogue with technology. It often demands more time, experimentation, and dedication, but with a clear artistic vision and a deep understanding of your project, it is entirely possible to navigate that unpredictability while remaining true to your creative intentions.

 

Having now crossed the line into AI-driven animation production, has your personal definition of what makes an animated film "authentic" or "successful" shifted?

Not really. For me, authenticity comes from the artistic vision behind the work. Whether I work with traditional animation, digital techniques, or AI-assisted production, the creative decisions remain mine. Over the years, I believe I have developed a distinctive visual language, so even when using AI, the finished work remains unmistakably my own. The tools may change, but the artistic vision that shapes the work remains the same.

 

Looking ahead, what stories are you most interested in telling next, and do you see yourself continuing to explore animation as your primary artistic language?

I am currently developing a new animated film that enables me to further explore the artistic possibilities of animation.

At the same time, I see myself continuing to work in both animation and live-action fiction. Each offers a different way of telling stories, and I don't feel the need to choose one over the other. I am drawn to emotionally driven narratives that explore human psychology, memory, identity, and the often-invisible connections between people. Whatever form these stories take, my aim is to create visually distinctive films that encourage reflection and resonate on an emotional level.