Interview with: Eva Bodo
October 2025
Eva Bodo concluded her master's studies at the Academy of Fine Arts in Bratislava in June 2022. Although her primary discipline is abstract painting, her work predominantly encompasses intermedial and processual elements. Alongside painting, she works with photography, drawing, and digital media, including GIFs and NFTs. She participated in multiple solo and group exhibitions with her large-format paintings as an exploration of the intersection between painting, artistic process and media confrontation. She was a finalist among 18 selected international artists at the YICCA Art Prize in Venice, Italy. Through intermedial and interdisciplinary artistic approach, the author analyzes the distinctive challenges such as the personal and often intimate aspects of artistic inquiry. Bodo engages with abandoned spaces and neglected sites within the city and its outskirts, collects artifacts found in her practice and looks for relationships between art and reality and how intricate, diverse or in contrary, simple and uniform they are. The author’s animus is to emphasize this topic by reflecting reality through fugitive interventions in which art imitates, interprets, and transforms the visual reality of urban vacuums and their structures through several media such as photography, drawing, painting and digital art. This act explores both factual and fictional lenses alongside the artists’ objective and subjective experiences, scientific and art-based research methodologies used to produce artistic evidence and conveying results. It also challenges artists’ multifaceted skills to develop sustainable, even eco-friendly immersive artistic solutions that prioritize environmental conservation alongside social engagement through arts.
How has your upbringing or cultural heritage shaped the themes and techniques you explore in your art today?
My current artistic practice is deeply involved within the environment and cultural context of my upbringing, primarily in the post-socialist urban landscape of cities and their peripheries. This background has directly shaped both the themes I explore and the intermedial techniques I employ today. The distinctive duality of my environment, a rapidly developing yet historically stratified Central European city juxtaposed with fragile, protected ecosystems like the Danube wetlands, gives me space to work on multiple topics at the same time. For example, abandoned spaces and "urban vacuums" are a direct response to observing the discrepancies in post-transformation urban planning. This environment cultivated a sensitivity to discarded materials and infrastructure, e.g., the series of Cubes in Nature, where my thematic interest lies in the relationship between art and reality, specifically whether these complex environmental relationships are perceived as intricate or, conversely, simple and uniform. The historical context of an environment grappling with both industrial residue and natural preservation was also a significant influence. It led me to apply my “zero waste” concept, which isn't merely a technique but a thematic and ethical choice—an artistic act to transform used material (like the masking tapes in my work “Flow”) into meaningful aesthetic evidence. This mirrors a cultural necessity to identify sustainable solutions within a sensitive landscape.
Your practice is developed around different mediums, a multidisciplinary approach. Tell us about your practice.
The exploration of a theme as dynamic as the city-nature structure demands a process- based, rather than purely object-based, approach. My works reflect the transitory nature of these urban-natural spaces. This type of work requires an intermedial methodology, where drawing reduces the crowded space, photography documents and simplifies its attributes, and painting/digital art (GIFs/NFTs) interprets and transforms the visual reality. The shift to intermediality also allows me to challenge the traditional boundaries of a single medium. By working with digital media, I move the discussion of material and permanence into the contemporary realm, addressing the temporary nature of data (NFTs) versus the physicality of the found object. This exploration between factual and fictional lenses becomes a methodology to synthesize objective research (site analysis) with subjective experience (artistic intervention).
If you could communicate just one core message through your entire body of work, what would it be?
Be kind to your environment. Cherish it, nurture it, preserve it, and respect its spirit. Every space carries the layered memory of those who came before and those yet to come. It is not merely a setting but a living archive of human presence and artistic evolution. Let future generations experience the beauty that time has shaped—the texture of old bricks, the rhythm of historical lines, the individuality of aged trees, and the poetry of uneven pavements challenging modern order. If preservation of the whole structure isn’t possible, keep its essence—the façade, the form, and the gesture—and integrate it; let it breathe anew. Never leave a space void; emptiness echoes loss—the silence of something that once was admired as a beautiful accent of the location.
What do you say to the classic comment: "I could do it too"?
“Yes, but you didn’t.” And there is one more classic comment I like to use: “The good news is, there is only 1 of you in this entire world. And the terrible news is, there is only 1 of you in this entire world.” No one can do it as you do, and that’s your superpower. All will be only replicas.
Name five pivotal lessons you’ve learned that shaped your artistic journey.
1. Self-validation—don’t seek external approval. You must hold an unwavering belief in the value of your work. Doubt and fear are distractions—stand firm in your conviction. Your art is an extension of who you are; live it, embody it, and defend it. If you don’t believe in it first, who else will?
2. Consistency and presence—show up every day. Even when not actively creating, stay connected—read, observe, explore techniques, or study other artists’ approaches. Creative flow isn’t constant, but the mind keeps processing quietly in the background. What feels like stillness often becomes a wonderful idea for your future work.
3. Respect Through Knowledge—understanding art history is essential. It roots you, forms your practice, and honors those who came before—be they artists, art historians, and art critics or your teachers whose legacies shape you. Knowledge isn’t limitation; it’s depth and continuity.
4. Generosity of Skill—share what you’ve learned. Someone once took the time to teach me how to stretch a canvas—later, I passed that on. Teaching doesn’t dim your light; it multiplies it. This knowledge exchange keeps the art world vibrant and unpredictable, igniting inspiration in unexpected places.
5. Compassion in Critique—be kind, as words can build or destroy. Instead of dismissing, allow space for resonance and reflection. “I need more time to connect with this piece” opens a lovely dialogue; “this is awful” closes it. Sensitivity nurtures creativity—both yours and others'. Because words are like stones; once you throw them, they won’t walk back...
Can art be truly therapeutic? Have you experienced its healing power personally, or seen it impact others?
I would describe my artistic process as being more uplifting. Drawing with people in public spaces becomes a form of participatory art that opens pathways for connection, reflection, and emotional release. What begins as an individual act of expression transforms into a collective gesture, where boundaries between artist, participant, and environment dissolve. Such a shared experience carries healing potential—it encourages presence, empathy, and dialogue. It allows participants to externalize inner states, reclaim a sense of belonging, and rediscover the overlooked beauties in their surroundings. The therapeutic power for the viewer lies in this sudden, uninvited moment of deliberation.
If you could live anywhere in the world to further inspire your creativity, where would it be?
I believe inspiration can emerge anywhere—as long as there are vacant or voided spaces hidden within the urban fabric. Yet, if I were to choose specifically, I would be drawn to cities like Busan, Seoul, or Tokyo. Their vast scale, layered histories, and striking contrasts between tradition and modernity offer fertile ground for reflection. The coexistence of dense architecture and overlooked voids within these cities could ignite new ways of perceiving and reimagining abandoned or forgotten places in contrast to my current perception.