ZhuziQ

ZhuziQ | At The Crossroads

How did your journey in art begin, and what led you to embrace painting as your main medium?

My journey into art began quite unexpectedly at the age of 33. At that time, I had a career in IT consulting and had never even considered painting. One day I came across a box of soft pastels I had bought years earlier simply because they looked beautiful, though I had no idea how to use them. I finally decided to give them a try, and while my first attempt was a complete failure, I was absolutely mesmerized by the medium. That fascination led me to search for tutorials, and I stumbled upon the art school of Veronika Kalacheva. It opened an entirely new world to me. I started practicing, taking lessons, and to my own surprise, something began to work. I was so captivated that I devoted all my free time to drawing and learning.

My relationship with painting came a bit later, and in a rather unusual way. Initially, I focused on graphics and believed that restrained palettes and monochrome lines were what “serious art” should look like. Bright colors, which I secretly loved, felt to me almost childish and naïve, so I tried to suppress that side of myself. But over time, as I questioned what was truly mine in art, I began to allow myself to paint more freely—just as I felt in the moment. That’s when my work naturally evolved into the vibrant, colorful style I create today. Looking back at my very first pieces, I realized that this love for bold color, composition, and expressive palettes was always there from the beginning. It just took me years of learning and unlearning to finally return to myself.

ZhuziQ | Cafe Baba | 2025

You mentioned that you started creating more intuitively when you allowed yourself to paint freely. Can you describe that moment of transition?

That transition happened at a time when I felt completely lost in my artistic identity. I kept asking myself: what is truly mine in art? I realized I needed to stop listening to both the inner and the outer critic and instead allow myself to create intuitively—painting what I felt in the moment, whatever impulse came through me. Of course, my rational mind resisted, telling me: “This is not how real artists work, this is wrong.” But instead of fighting that resistance, I decided to push it to the extreme. I went to an art store, bought the largest canvases I could find, and just started painting on them freely. And then something magical happened—suddenly, the works I created not only felt authentic to me but also resonated with others. After a few of those large canvases, even my critical mind quieted down and accepted: yes, this is possible. That’s when the real transformation took place.

ZhuziQ | Dream Catchers

Your works often deal with the idea of the “inner child.” What inspired you to explore this theme so deeply?

In recent years, I kept asking myself: why did I only start painting at the age of 33? What went wrong in my childhood that made me abandon drawing in the seventh grade, deciding it was “not for me,” that I “couldn’t draw,” and that it wasn’t serious anyway? After all, a child naturally explores the world through creativity.

That question led me into psychology, and eventually I discovered transactional analysis. I realized that my inner parent had silenced and even abused my inner child with beliefs like: art isn’t serious, artists starve, first you need a proper career, and only then can you afford to “play.” So my inner child went quiet, hiding and waiting patiently until I reached that point in life when it was finally safe to speak again. At 33, I heard that voice by accident—and even then, I tried to silence it again, telling it how it “should” draw.

Now, after all of this, I never want to lose that child’s voice again. It has become the most authentic source of my creativity, and honoring it is at the core of my artistic journey.

ZhuziQ | Kitchenette | 2025

Travel and meditation appear as recurring sources of inspiration in your work. Could you share an example of how one of your journeys or meditations shaped a specific painting?

One vivid example is my painting Café Baba, which was inspired by my trip to Morocco. I painted it in a single flow, without sketches or preparation, purely from inspiration. It’s a small café in Tangier where Jim Jarmusch filmed Only Lovers Left Alive. For me, that place became a point where two personal dreams met—my childhood longing to visit Morocco and my love for Jarmusch’s films.

The experience of that journey left such a strong impression that it echoed in other works as well. For instance, in The Dreamcatcher I captured a fragment of life in a Moroccan medina, but also something on a more symbolic level: the feeling that the entire trip was like a dream, surreal and almost otherworldly.

Some of your works depict everyday spaces—cafés, kitchens, city suburbs—through very vibrant palettes. What draws you to these ordinary subjects?

For me, these everyday places are never just ordinary. Each of them holds a very personal meaning, a memory of a moment when my inner child felt happy and alive. When I paint them, I’m not simply depicting a space; I’m painting my inner memory and impressions. The vibrant palette is my way of allowing that moment of joy to come through on the canvas and to share the emotional truth behind it.

ZhuziQ | Suburb Of Amsterdam | 2025

You say your art is also for millennials and older generations. What conversations do you hope your art sparks within this audience?

What I hope my art does for millennials and older generations is to encourage them to reconnect with their inner child and finally allow that voice to be heard. From my own experience, and from speaking with people of my generation, I’ve seen how many of us silence that child within. We end up imprisoning ourselves with social expectations, fears, and rigid beliefs. This often creates a vicious cycle: we keep doing what doesn’t bring us joy, we lose energy and motivation, and as a result, we feel we no longer have the strength to start something that truly nourishes us.

Through my paintings and my own story, I want to show that it’s never too late to begin again. One of the most important acts of trust in my inner child was when I left my career at its peak. I had achieved everything I wanted in that field, and I realized that continuing only for money would mean lying to myself. So I walked away and started over as an artist. And I’ve seen how this inspired others—former colleagues, people who once worked under my leadership—some turned to music, others to spiritual practices, daring to follow their own dreams. That’s the kind of conversation I hope my art sparks: a reminder that authentic joy is still possible, and that giving space to your inner child can transform your life, no matter your age.

Do you think contemporary art has the power to heal personal and collective traumas?

Yes, absolutely. I believe contemporary art has the power to heal because it no longer has boundaries—neither in mediums, nor in expressions, nor in styles. And only in such freedom can truth emerge, and truth is what heals. Even if that healing begins on a purely personal level, it inevitably extends outward. When one person finds healing through art, they become a source of support for others, even just within their closest circle. This sets off a chain reaction that, over time, can contribute to a much larger process of collective healing.