Alexia KTD

Your work bridges classical technique and raw, intuitive expression. How do you balance control and instinct in your creative process?

Most of the time I start with a clear final detailed vision and end up doing something completely different, as the intuition takes over. It’s an uncertain journey of discovery where intuition takes over—pure, unfiltered, and honest. I thrive in a state of organized chaos, always working on multiple pieces at the same time. Layering up and moving from blending with charcoal in detail, to painting loosely keeps me active and feeds my mind the kind of fuel that it needs.

I usually begin with the general shapes and proportions and then flow and get lost into some detailed element. Then a step back and check, where can I be playful? where do I need to lose it? it’s all about the visual balance, which I’m constantly adjusting. I love trying new techniques and combining them, it’s really boring to do the whole time the same thing. And at one point the artwork just feels complete, like there is no need to change anything anymore. Some parts remain unfinished because they don’t matter that much in the whole story. It’s not just making a portrait of someone, it’s creating a visual representation of how that person feels in that moment, in that state of mind. Intuition wins, let go of control.

Alexia KTD | G.O.D. (Gold. Oil. Drugs.) | 2026

You chose to leave formal academic training early. How has this decision shaped your identity as an outsider artist?

Making authentic art is about being yourself, nobody else can teach you that. It has been one of the best decisions so far, I’m happy I left the academy early, it gave me the chance to discover other parts of life and move to Bulgaria. Stepping outside the matrix of schooling pushed me to question the art world, which left me with a blank canvas and it has been quite a transformative journey since then. A childhood dream was completely destroyed and replaced with a plan on how to make it happen. The inauguration of the online hub Key To Daydream, after 1 year and a few months of working on it made a significant change for the artworks’ visibility and for my own belief in myself and my future within the art sector.

The phrase “infinite scenarios of precise emotion” is very striking. How do you translate such abstract emotional states into visual form?

Step 1: Turn up the Music, Step 2: Let it Flow. Music is one of the best experiences one can have, most of the time sounds feel like colors. Just a part of a track that clicks your brain, the combination between a grin with the corner of the lip and a sparkle in the eye, the top hairs of the tail of an excited doggo flickering through the wind, peculiar emotions. I am playing the character, staring in the mirror while my face is morphing into the mood. I do my best to put myself into that emotion’s shoes and then I take a walk inside, sense the rhythms, see the colors, feel the spots that are tender and the ones which remain soft, proceeding with the lines as the vibe flows. My mind completely slips in certain parts of this roleplay and this is when I know the line is lost and there is no need to continue with that section.

Alexia KTD | Tongue Of Flies | 2024

Your works often feel like fragments of a dream or psychological landscape. Do they originate from specific personal experiences, or are they more archetypal?

Both, lately, I’ve focused more on creating from personal experiences, it somehow gives me the feeling I’m living my life.

My mind, the first vision of the year, is a radiography of the circus living and giving shows with sold out tickets, in my head. I was going through the last attempt of my ego trying to keep me in the same patterns. After finishing it, I decided to give a lot of of my sketches and studies collected in the last 12 years away for free to people on the street and from now on keep for myself only My Mind which is not for sale. Letting those emotions out together with my confessions to my Kiwi Bird, made the voice in my head go away. Be honest with the ones you love.

G.O.D. (Gold. Oil. Drugs.) was the second vision of this year, which came as a response to the release of the Epstein Files, telling the story of a slave who escaped and is now selling her personal belongings for survival. The work aims to expose connections between “friends,” victims, and dark old rituals. Everything has a price… so do the items she tries to sell. The green painting at the end of the table, an homage to my beloved Dali, represents an eternal moment that will cost you the ultimate price—your soul. The full magic of the inner artwork reveals under a special black light, leaving to be seen the question of the pigeon, “Why are people only watching?”… only watching the market stall and not buying anything… only watching the pedophiles in power and not doing anything. Some items are stolen from the places she has been, like the Adrenochrome blood bag, Diddy’s baby oil bottle and The Black Book of J.E.; others, like the narcotics, the pigeon, and the flowers referencing important countries, are found on the streets and collected along the way. Mocking herself with the hat, trying to make the best out of it, she shows her body and story to the people, hoping that someone will pay attention.

But who knows what the real story or the correct chronology of our history is? Do you know the answer?

Alexia KTD | Gustave & Melancholia | 2024

As someone working across many mediums – from engraving to tattooing – how does the surface (skin, metal, canvas) change the meaning of your work?

The surface changes a lot, that’s why I like changing surfaces. With the tattooing, everything is really shaking, but the precision of the line feels somehow like Aquaforte. Working on skin is permanent, which makes it really exciting. The colors are absorbed differently depending on pigment and the person’s skin and they are always changing with the healing process and care of the tattoo. With tattooing, the result carries in general more meaning for the person being tattooed, since it’s most of the time based on their preferences. The engraving caries way more meaning to me because it is pursuing a technique, that comes from the old masters, which is in general taken over by the machines. I carry a deep appreciation and have been inspired by the techniques of Gustave Dore and Durer. The canvas has more freedom and it gives more space for playing, allowing so many mediums and layers to intertwine. With the oils it’s even more fun because they don’t dry up as fast the acrylics and they give me time to move the layers, just like I do with the ones of charcoal. Different surfaces are meant for different emotions.

Alexia KTD | My Mind | 2026

In a time when AI can generate images instantly, you emphasize the “lived human experience”. What do you think makes a work of art truly human today?

I really like this question, thanks for addressing it. The imperfections, the shaky lines, the layers of paint that are highlighting the tip of the nose just to make it look like it’s slightly closer to you, the way the light is bleeding in the room with just one glazed stroke, the color of a copper plate changing as your gaze is moving between the painted lines—all this things that you can only experience by viewing the artwork in real life. A wonderful example is the artwork Lucifer by Franz Von Stuck, there are many crappy versions of it online and none of them compare to the force it brings when you view it in person, it brought tears to my eyes. Only when I saw the work in the National Gallery here in Sofia, I notice the arm was bigger before and the artist corrected it later in the process, good luck AI thinking in mistakes. Creating a work of art with your own hands and brain enriches your soul, generating it with the Bots is slowly killing it.

What emotional or psychological response do you hope viewers take away from your work?

I hope it’s gonna bring a smile on their faces, that for a moment they will forget about life, get sucked into the artwork and enjoy the daydream.