Although it may not be apparent at first glance, the smiling sunflowers painted by the Czech artist of Ukrainian origin Olga Krykun (*1994) conceal themes of war. Sparkling flowers, melancholic girls’ faces with smudged makeup, or fluffy dogs evoking 1990s stationery, are inspired by kitschy souvenirs imported by the container load from Asia and subsequently sold at the market in Odessa, where Olga is from. The vision of unending war and the tacky aesthetics of Chinese trinkets intertwine in these watercolor paintings, which on the one hand symbolize childlike innocence, while on the other emotionally and urgently call on individuals to bring about radical changes in our society. 

Although it is tempting to view Olga Krykun’s works in the context of the Japanese kawaii aesthetic,—and her artist residencies on the island of Honshu in the cities of Matsudo and Yamanashi also encourage this—it is not the only key to interpreting them. Olga Krykun’s painterly themes confirm that this naive, unconscious cuteness must be recognized as a highly ironic and critical commentary on contemporary society. The mechanism of cuteness relies on the viewer’s empathy, offering in exchange a false sense of security. Krykun tells viewers a poetic story of soothing flowers, yet upon closer inspection, we discover that their stems are skeletons. Through Olga Krykun’s images, we are reminded of something we may have forgotten: that the line between cuteness and pain is thin. Despite the lighthearted visuals—which evoke digital filters for editing selfies into a Lolita aesthetic with pink tones and glitter— her motifs, drawing from East Slavic folklore, convey serious, authentic experiences linked to the war in Ukraine, which is partially occupied by the Russian regime. 

Stardust of Tomorrow combines joy and sorrow. On the one hand, soldiers who liberate the city from a tyrant are welcomed and crowned with flowers like laureates; on the other hand, flowers are placed on their graves. Flowers are used as symbols in both celebratory and mourning ceremonies. They are part of both life and death. For hippie culture in the 1960s, they were an attribute of peace accompanied by the famous slogan — flowers, not bombs. Just as flowers are fleeting, so too is the dust or sand that Buddhist monks spend days and weeks shaping grain by grain into intricate mandala patterns, only to disperse them with a single breath or sweep once completed. Delicate flowers and invisible stardust refer to the Japanese concept of mono no aware, which is not far removed from the European understanding of vanitas. It is a poignant, melancholic emotion evoked by beautiful yet fleeting things, which may include fleeting memories of childhood, flowers, Chinese souvenirs, or freedom.

curator: Emma Hanzlíková

In her work, Krykun utilizes a wide range of media, including video, objects, and painting, which she subsequently combines into complex installations. By combining elements of fictional narratives with references to culturally and socially relevant symbols, she creates a mythology of the present. Krykun’s work is significantly influenced by her childhood experiences spent in her family’s souvenir shop in Ukraine in the 1990s, a time of rapid globalization. Her artistic practice, firmly rooted in intuition and emotion, functions as the poetry of our time.

Exhibitions: Gemini Season (2025), NoD Gallery, Prague (2025), 427 Gallery, Riga (2023), Wanda Gallery, Warsaw (2022), Skala Gallery, Poznań (2022), Gallery Konstfack, Stockholm (2020), and City Surfer Office, Prague (2018).

Group exhibitions: Gen-Z, MO Museum in Vilnius (2026), Ulstrup Gallery, Denmark (2025), MXM Galeria, Madrid (2025), DSC Gallery, Prague (2025), Museum of Modern Art in Warsaw (2023), Czech Center in Seoul (2022), Garage Gallery, Prague (2021), and Yo-Chang Art Museum in Taiwan (2019).

Photo: Tomáš Nosek