On the occasion of the Florence Biennale, we had the pleasure of welcoming to Antica Torre Tornabuoni the painter Anastasiia Novitskaya, an artist who transforms light into language and nostalgia into color.
Born in Poland, having lived in several countries, and now based in Italy, Anastasiia brings to her canvases the intensity of the places she has inhabited and the urgency of a profound dialogue with nature.
During her stay at the Tower — surrounded by the living history of its walls and the breathtaking view of Santa Maria del Fiore — she shared with us her journey, her inspirations, and her project “Lost”, a series that reflects with poetry and irony on the fate of our planet.
Read the full interview to discover more about Anastasiia Novitskaya’s vision and artistic world.
What do you think has most influenced the visual aesthetics of your art?
The places I’ve lived in have had a huge influence on how I perceive light and color. I’ve already lived in three countries, and each one has left a deep mark.
For example, in Poland, I often painted sunsets — but they were imagined ones. For nine months of the year, the sky is gray and cloudy, so I created the light I was missing.
When I moved to Genoa, everything changed. Here, there’s no need to imagine sunsets — they’re right before your eyes every day. I just observe, feel, and transfer it all onto the canvas.
Have you always dreamed of becoming an artist, or did it happen by chance?
Actually, as a child, I dreamed of becoming a veterinarian. I’ve always loved animals, but over time I realized that loving them and treating them are two completely different things (laughs). It’s an extremely demanding profession that requires nerves of steel and a huge heart.
Drawing, on the other hand, has always been something I loved. At school and university, all my notebooks were filled with sketches along the margins. It was always my way of expressing emotions and observations. Over time, I understood that being an artist is my true calling.
What do you think people can take away from your works?
I believe that every viewer can find something unique and personal in my paintings. Some recognize their own emotions or memories, others see them as a source of inspiration or reflection on our relationship with nature. And some simply let themselves be carried away by the harmony of colors and shapes.
My goal is to create works that speak to everyone on their own emotional level. I believe art has the power to unite, make people reflect, and stir emotions — and I hope my work contributes to that universal dialogue.
What are you working on now? What themes are you exploring in your art?
At the moment, I’m trying to raise awareness of the fact that ecology is in danger. We’ve reached a point where observing is no longer enough — we must act. That’s how my project Lost was born. Through it, I want to show how I see the future if humanity doesn’t change course — to draw attention to the complexity and urgency of the problem.
In the Lost series, we find ourselves in a world that, at first glance, seems familiar and even welcoming. But it’s an illusion. Each painting portrays an astronaut engaged in everyday gestures — having lunch in a café, swimming in the sea, reading a book. Warm, luminous scenes… until you look closer.
These works are not just images: they’re a mirror of the future, a warning of what could happen if we don’t protect our planet. The astronaut is the witness of lost humanity — a symbol of solitude and hope. He’s not an astronaut in the traditional sense, but a survivor for whom the suit has become the only way to exist on Earth.
The series invites us to smile, but also to reflect. It shows that even in the most tragic conditions, human beings can preserve irony and optimism — but it also reminds us that each of us carries responsibility for the planet’s future.
The ecological theme is already widely discussed. What can you say that hasn’t already been said?
I believe our real problem is overconsumption. We don’t need to change everything — we just need to reduce what we consume.
I don’t want to be associated with certain eco-activist movements because I don’t share their methods. When they throw paint at paintings, they destroy cultural heritage — and that’s wrong. They want to draw attention, but they do it through destruction, and that only causes irritation.
Real actions should be directed not against art but towards those who make decisions: governments and corporations — the true culprits of environmental damage. In short: humanity’s main problem is excess consumption.
What directions are you exploring? Which of your series do you love the most?
It’s hard to choose just one — each series is like a chapter of my life.
I adore my Victorian Animals series: each one has its own character, emotion, and little story.
Flowers, on the other hand, hold a special place: they’re always bright, full of light and breath, like a promise of rebirth.
My landscapes are also dear to me — I believe anyone can recognize a familiar place or emotion in them.
Lately, I’ve also been exploring abstraction. It’s more challenging for me, but I think an artist’s life without experimentation would be terribly boring.
Does it happen that the public interprets your work without knowing its context? Do you like that freedom?
I love it. Sometimes the viewer sees something completely different in my work than what I intended — and I find that wonderful.
Art, to me, should live its own life once it leaves the artist’s hands.
If someone feels an emotion, even without knowing the story, then a dialogue has already happened between us.
Let everyone find their own reflection in my work — that’s the magic of art: it becomes a mirror in which each person sees themselves.
Which artists inspire you?
I started by trying to reproduce the seascapes of Aivazovsky. I was fascinated by how he painted light — not as a reflection, but as the breath of nature.
Then I discovered Van Gogh: his use of color and texture taught me that a brushstroke can be an emotion, not just a technique.
Finally, Renoir — with his soft light, warmth, and humanity.
Perhaps in these three artists lies everything I feel closest to: the power of the elements, emotion, and that light that lives within the human being.
What are your plans after the Biennale?
First of all, I want to take a deep breath. The last few months before the exhibition were incredibly intense, full of work and preparation.
After such a hectic period, I’d like to focus on creating a personal project: a 3D installation composed of seven paintings, each accompanied by an object designed to expand the meaning of the work in real space.
The works will create a narrative path: visitors will walk through seemingly ordinary scenes while perceiving the ecological collapse hidden beneath a layer of irony.
In this installation, painting meets objects — plastic, Polaroid photos, books, everyday items — so that the viewer not only observes but also interacts and immediately grasps the meaning of each scene.
Antica Torre Tornabuoni is a place where art meets history. How did you experience this dialogue between your contemporary art and such a rich, historic environment? Was there a moment or detail from your stay that you’ll carry with you as a source of inspiration?
Antica Torre Tornabuoni impressed me with its authentic and welcoming atmosphere. The people who work there are incredibly kind and helpful, and you can immediately sense a deep respect for art and artists.
The terrace became my favorite spot: having coffee there while looking at Santa Maria del Fiore is a moment of pure inspiration.
I think I’ll carry with me that feeling of calm and beauty — something only Florence can offer.