The Theater of Invisible — Episode 1

Space Consciousness Making Contact with Humankind

The overarching narrative of the project is a story in which a being inhabiting a human body enters into dialogue with a cosmic soul. This soul is immense, shifting in form—sometimes bird-like, sometimes resembling a cosmic dragon, sometimes taking other shapes. For human perception, it evokes the ancient Japanese mythical creature Kirin, and for now, we will continue to call it that.
Kirin sends signals, transmits stories, and slightly stretches the boundaries of space and time to establish contact with humanity. Episode 1 unfolds within this context.

The viewer encounters seven ceramic panels, a kaleidoscope of earthly stories of seemingly ordinary people. These are not portraits of faces or bodies, but portraits of souls and inner quests—portraits of those whose essence cannot fully fit into the human body or physical space. Each of these individuals is searching, attuned to notice when something greater enters their field.

Each soul receives its message from the cosmic consciousness—a feather, materializing as if from nowhere, becoming an artifact in its own right (Art Object #8). The attention of each individual becomes a thread woven into the complex network connecting to Metaconsciousness.

Remember, this is Kirin, the cosmic being itself, represented as Art Object #9, serving as both messenger and nexus of this communication.

Throughout the exhibition space, additional collaged objects from other worlds continue this dialogue:

• A feather-table for tea meditation (Art Object #10) invites contemplative interaction.
• Fragments of the “Enchanted Forest” mosaic, placed in boxes like treasures in chests (Art Object #11), suggest discoveries waiting to be made—remnants of other realms intersecting with ours.

Together, these elements construct the first episode of a living narrative, a meeting between human seekers and cosmic consciousness, a delicate choreography of perception, attention, and inner transformation. The exhibition here is not a map of what the soul looks like, but a portal showing how it moves, senses, and resonates across layers of existence.
This story is also captured in an art film. Its completion is currently underway: Lidiya Igolnikova, who composed the music for this episode, is recording tracks for the final montage.

You have the opportunity to be among the first to witness the footage in its working form and hear in Lidiya’s sounds echoes of that space, where Kirin’s consciousness and human souls enter dialogue—a space that cannot be seen with the eyes, but felt through rhythm, sound, and energy. The film becomes an extension of the exhibition, allowing the experience to unfold visually, audibly, and internally, immersing the viewer in the dance of consciousness on the canvas of being.

When we are born, we start listening to stories. About the world, about us, about how things are and how they are not. About what this and that means. What is valuable and what is nothing. What is true and what is false.

We get maps and instructions and get on our way. And we do not immediately think to ask - where? And so, at some point in our (or is it outs yet?) life, we just crash into this question at full tilt and only then see it in front of us: "Where am I going?". In the beginning, it's the only way to ask yourself this question. But then you realize that the question contains an unknown, unconscious concept. This is the "I" element. Well, what do you know!


Once a chain of unexpected events crashed into my glorious automatic (although then it did not seem like that at all) life like a sharp slap and the pain - shot through all the layers of my being - imprinted this question in my mind: "Who am I?"

It seems impossible even to start looking for an answer, to understand where to dig. But when such a question is posed to oneself, to turn away from the search is even more impossible than to understand where to look for the answer. No matter how angry you get at this accidental release from the cyclicity, no matter how much you envy people who are content with the identification and program they were born with, no matter how much you try to return back to the simple joys of being - in the end, sooner or later you accept that there is no turning back and your life will no longer be the same.

You start looking for something that you have never encountered before. Something that you are not sure if even exists. But this unknown – or, perhaps non-existing – became now your main value. You have no maps on how to get to this most important thing. But the need to get there is wild, more urgent than any other. Eating, sleeping, and even living in comparison with this is complete nonsense.


You can try to get somewhere as much as you like. And you can even get there. But all this is nullified in value if you were not you. In short, without that "I", there is no "your life", "your way" or "your decisions". If "I" is everything that others told about me, that cultures, ideas, and concepts told about me, then this is "their life", "their way", "their decisions". And I am just something like a radio that keeps playing their songs. But somehow, I feel that I can sing my own song. Somewhere deep, I feel that I am a separate live song. And I choose this reality.

I choose. Again, this incomprehensible word. Looks like all other words will keep running into it. There is no choice, we dive into the void. Without safeguards, without guarantees of results, without anything at all. Well, perhaps with fears: of uncertainty, of defeat, of madness, and - well, what of it - of death. This, at least, is some kind of stability; this, at least, is familiar. You find support and tranquility in this awareness - and you jump into the abyss.