Words by Velin

Victor does not chase a perfect idea. He does not build for clarity or polish. He creates for the sake of creating—for the simple, often overlooked thrill of watching something come together that wasn’t meant to.

There’s no fixed method in his process. Sometimes it’s structured. Sometimes it isn’t. “Every time it’s different,” he says. “I think all three methods—flow, structure, unpredictability—should be used both separately and together.” He builds, then breaks. Listens, then changes course. It isn’t a system. It’s a conversation.

Mistakes, Noise, and the Unexpected

For Victor, mistakes aren’t interruptions. They’re invitations. He welcomes disorder—not to lose control, but to loosen his grip. The creative process, to him, is about watching what emerges when you stop trying to dominate it.

In his experimental music and video projects, a single sound can spark hours of improvisation. “You just find a right sound,” he says, “and then you start working with it, adding something else or making slight changes.” There is no final vision in those moments. Only the instinct to keep going until the thing feels whole.

Even his most carefully planned works leave space for uncertainty. He expects surprises. Sometimes, he hopes for them.

Letting Go to Get Closer

Victor recalls filming a live session with a noise band in a worn-out Moscow kitchen. It was five hours of relentless sound—saxophone, guitar, no breaks. By the final take, he had stopped trying to direct the shoot. “I was simply holding the camera and surrendering to the process.”

What emerged wasn’t clean. It wasn’t expected. But it was right. “A very strange piece came to be,” he says. And it worked because no one tried to make it work. It was born out of surrender, not strategy.

No Explanation Needed

Victor doesn’t create with answers in mind. In fact, he rarely creates with questions either. “You don’t ask yourself ‘why,’” he says. “You just do.” The meaning comes later—if at all. The act of doing is enough.

This isn’t an absence of intention. It’s a refusal to reduce creativity to logic. Art, for Victor, doesn’t need to justify itself to exist.

Freedom in the Unfinished

Lately, he’s been drawn to mockups, sketches, and collage—scrap work with no goal. There are no clients, no deadlines. He draws. If it doesn’t work, he covers it up with tape. He doesn’t aim to impress anyone. “You simply create without regrets or fear of someone seeing it,” he says. This is where real freedom lives. In the work that doesn’t need to be shown. In the pieces you never explain.

What Stays, What Doesn’t

Victor admits he used to care more about how his work was perceived. Now, not so much. “I just try to do what I like. If someone likes it, I’m really happy,” he says. “But I don’t really care.” If no one saw the work? He’d still make it. Not out of discipline or ego—but because he enjoys it.

At Velin, we don’t just explore art. We explore why it happens. And sometimes, the answer is simple: because it wants to. Victor doesn’t force it. He follows it. And somehow, that’s more than enough.