top of page

Wet asphalt, peach skies: mapping Vilnius with Yana Chernova

We spoke with Yana Chernova about painting, memory, and her shifting relationship with Vilnius —
a city that both lulls and inspires her. From dawn plein-air studies to hidden coffee corners, Yana traces routes that ground her and moments that pull her forward.
 

Read the full conversation to uncover how Vilnius, with its underground pulse and quiet mornings, reshapes her everyday rhythms and her art.

 

Location: Vilnius, Lithuania

Share:

SVM_3481.JPG
SVM_3478.JPG

 

Yana Chernova in her studio. Photo by Anna Sharko

 

BLAU: What was Vilnius for you when you lived in Belarus, and what has it become after moving here?

Yana: When I lived in Belarus, Vilnius felt distant a place friends visited for culture, parties, concerts. I’d only passed through once for a couple of hours.
My Vilnius now is calm. By day it seems to pause; by night it hums with an underground, youthful energy: music, nightlife, new venues. Parks, the river, lakes to swim in; it feels intimate and warm. But I can’t say we’re on the same page right now: Vilnius lulls me, and at this moment I need a little more motion.

BLAU: If you had guests who had never been to Vilnius, where would you take them?
 

Yana: It depends on the guests and the season. If they’re active, you can walk all day: climb the Three Crosses, go to the tower, wander the parks. You can also do part of the 100-kilometer trail around Vilnius: city, rivers, forests, viewpoints and wilder spots. It feels like a reset — simply walking, watching the world slowly wake around you.

My picks:

With family, I go for tasty, home-style comfort:
 

In winter, Vilnius can be harsh: little sun, sometimes sheer ice. Once I had to choose between falling or sliding into the road. On such days I prefer staying in. Still, the Christmas market and lights are beautiful, just wear better shoes. In summer: the Three Crosses, Vingis Park (you may catch a festival), Bernardine Garden by the water, and of course the old town.

BLAU: Do you have personal routes, to ground yourself or switch on for the day?

Yana: After I moved away when the war began, I closed off: less talking, fewer outings. If it weren’t for my partner, I’d probably order food and go nowhere.
My most regular route now is to Pilates at 7:30 a.m.; on those days everything falls into place. I’m trying for 6:30; mornings are a battle I still love. As my grandfather says: “The greatest victory is the victory over yourself and your laziness.” If you wake closer to noon, it already feels late, and people don’t have that much time to waste.
 

BLAU: And a place of strength, a place of resonance or comfort?


Yana: My brush. Painting. I used to find it in running, but now it’s painting for sure. The perfect moment is dawn studies outdoors: leave around three, meet the first light, catch that fleeting state. You have ten minutes, less even; linger and the moment is gone. Color, light, shadow, even yourself change too fast. That’s the highest point: alone in grass or forest, with everything waking up. I feel both here and everywhere at once, as if I leave my body and merge with the world.

 

BLAU: Tell us about your studio. How does it influence your painting?


Yana: I need my own easel and stand, high ceilings, air. Ideally, space that doesn’t press on you but gives room to think. I’ve painted big canvases in tighter conditions too (in Georgia). The ideal studio is simply the one where you can work.
I rarely use the easel now, mostly portraits, and my canvases are two to two and a half meters. I need wood in the room: benches, cabinets, flowers, things that make it alive. A studio has to be a living space you can adapt; that’s when the feeling of work switches on.
I have a home study/studio, so I can work anytime. I always travel with paints: no excuses. If you didn’t bring the materials, the responsibility is on you, not on the world.

BLAU: Do certain objects always move with you?

Yana: Some small  things. Others I let go: no time to move them, my head elsewhere.
There was a cloche with dried flowers, a gift from my ex. I loved it, then gave it to my best friend’s girlfriend so it stayed with someone close. When you move, you don’t just lose objects; you lose everyday friendship: the kind where you hug, say something simple, and run on.

The cloche was later broken by a wonderful cat named Anton-Apollon, perhaps that makes the memory stronger. There’s a little felt cat my sister made: it lives in my first-aid kit, smells like medicine, but it’s there. A sun-shaped pendant from my dad. And a stick my partner found on a beach; the sticker says “for Yana.” It lies in the studio and becomes a memory. Memory is more precious than things: better to keep a diary.

Memory is more precious than things: better to keep a diary.

 

BLAU: Has your artistic practice changed after moving? Did Vilnius or Belarus influence it?
 

Yana: Not changed, developed. My masks and portraits began as a visual experiment; later I learned others were on similar paths, and that’s fine. It’s not the image itself but what’s inside it.

When I paint someone, choosing color isn’t aesthetic: it’s what you want to say about or to yourself. Blue says one thing; red, another. In 2024, I painted myself in red and it meant something else entirely. Color is a dialogue with your inner world. For me, red became a raised head: moving forward despite difficulty. The next color might be blue again, but with a different feeling. That’s why I keep painting masked portraits: a dialogue through color, with myself and with the world.

My social projects grow too, not because they were naive before, but because I’m older and have more experience. Violence is a key theme for me and always will be; it didn’t start in 2020. I’ve always paid attention to it; now I know how to speak about it, and I want to.

If Vilnius were a color?


Two: wet asphalt and peach-pink: rain and summer sunsets. And green, of course: Vilnius is the rustle of leaves.

BLAU: If your work were a walk through the city, what route would it be?


Yana: Start in daylight, wandering wherever my eyes lead. Night is for walking too, Vilnius is safe and quiet. Finish at dawn on a hill or by water. I have a favorite bench near where I used to live, Vingrių skvero apžvalgos aikštelÄ—, it has a special calm. What matters most is how you end the route.
 

BLAU: You once said you didn’t feel talented. When did that change?

Yana: I had a supportive family, grandmother an artist, father wanted to draw, mother did theater, but in school I often felt I wasn’t enough. In college I worked hard without results; my mother even asked a teacher what was wrong.

Everything shifted with the right mentors. In my third year a teacher and I truly connected. At the academy, one person taught me almost everything. He believed in me; I transferred from paid to free study and started again from year one, gladly, to learn from him longer. I worked constantly. For two years I arrived at nine and left when the academy closed, weekends too. All my time belonged to art.
 

BLAU: How did the environment influence you?


Yana: In my first group everyone was talented but isolated. In the second, also strong, but we shared more than we competed. We learned from each other and spent a powerful time together. We don’t keep in touch now, but the gratitude remains; the contact faded, the warmth didn’t.
 

BLAU: Why did the contact fade?


Yana: Moving. I’m bad at correspondence, don’t love calls. I need emotional presence. Face to face I’m engaged; in writing I freeze. Still, those people are part of my life, and remain so.
 

BLAU: Who are you today?


Yana: I don’t know. TikTok keeps feeding me physics and space, maybe we live in a black hole and I understand nothing. Probably I’m just a small piece of energy trying to do as much as possible before it’s gone.

This interview was conducted by BLAU Studio as part of the BLAU MAP project,
supported by PlatformB.
 

Yana Chernova is a Vilnius-based Belarusian artist.
She works with painting, objects, and installations, exploring the relationship between environment, perception, and memory.

Photo by Anna Sharko.
 

Reproduction or citation of this interview is permitted
only with prior written consent from the BLAU Studio team.

bottom of page