Heart in Tiny Paws

Tania Stupnikova
The heart in tiny paws
Acrylic on canvas
round 30 cm
2025
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 151 EUR

They say we are all born hollow. Our chests echo like empty shells. We walk, we talk, we laugh, but inside us there is only silence. No true heart, only a space that waits.
The old stories claim that gods forgot to finish us. Others say it was punishment. But the cats know better. They walk between our bones like gardeners in a field. They carry seeds that no one can see.
When a cat chooses you, it climbs into your ribs. It curls in the hollow, its fur brushing the walls of bone. In its small paws it begins to shape something red and fragile. At first it looks like a knot of yarn, trembling and wet. Then it starts to beat.
The kitten guards it. It sleeps with one eye open, tiny claws resting on the growing heart. It feeds the heart with purrs, with warmth, with the sharp needle of its teeth. Slowly, what was once nothing becomes the center of you.
Most people never notice when it happens. They only realize later, when they cry and feel the ache, or when they love and feel the fire. They say: I have a heart now. But it was always the cat’s work.
That is why, when a cat sits on your chest and stares into your eyes, you cannot look away. It is not playing. It is measuring. It is checking if the heart it built still beats as it should.
Do not laugh. Do not push it away. You may think you own the cat. But the truth is simpler, and darker: the cat owns your heart.
And remember—many still walk among us without one.

Let’s Play

Tania Stupnikova
Let’s Play
Acrylic on canvas
40×40 cm
2025
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 224 EUR

Every game begins with laughter. But not every game ends that way.
The first steps feel light, the kind a child takes without fear. Then the weight begins. Choices arrive, and each one leaves a mark. The ground itself starts keeping score.
They said it was only a game. But games remember. And this one never ends.
The message does not change. Neither does the price.
Here, rules are not written down. They arrive in bills to pay, in doors that close, in sudden silences at night. You learn them too late, often by losing. And every loss costs more than toys.
Still, there is no retreat. Once you step inside, you are already playing.
So you walk. You stumble. You carry scars that no one claps for. And those who remain learn to fight for small victories, stubborn enough to survive.
You cannot leave the game. But you can endure it. You can even win a place inside it—stronger, sharper, more alive than before.
And if you last long enough, you will understand the truth:
What began as play was only the mask.

Rhythm 2.0

Tania Stupnikova
Rhythm 2.0
Acrylic on canvas
80×80 cm
2024
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 1195 EUR

In 1974, artist Marina Abramović performed a radical piece called “Rhythm 0”. For six hours, she placed her body in a gallery space alongside 72 objects—ranging from a rose and a feather to knives and a gun with a single bullet. She offered herself entirely to the audience, refusing to resist anything they chose to do to her, turning herself into an object. The results were shocking: at first, people acted cautiously, but over time, their actions escalated into violence. The performance exposed the darker sides of human nature, forcing us to reflect on the boundaries of morality and responsibility.

“Rhythm 2.0” brings this concept into the modern age, replacing the artist with a figure of artificial intelligence—silent, powerless, and fully at the mercy of those around it. Surrounding it are some of the same objects used in Abramović’s original performance.

We are often worried about AI threatening us, but we rarely stop to think about the boundaries we cross in how we use it. In this case, it is the object, and we do with it whatever we wish.

“Rhythm 2.0” is not only an homage to the iconic performance but also an invitation to dialogue. What makes us human? What do we choose when limitless possibilities are placed before us? And are we ready for the moment when technology, like nature, might respond to our interference?

Roots of Unease

Tania Stupnikova
Roots of Unease
Acrylic on canvas
30×30 cm
2025
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 126 EUR

I always try to show that no matter how scary or unsettling the imaginary world might seem, it’s probably still not as bad as some of the things reality throws at us. Who knows, maybe we should just take a vacation in a forest like this—it might even be better than certain places on Earth. And honestly, if you think about it, maybe we should start expecting something good to come from the “outside.” What if it’s not as bad or terrifying as we imagine? But here’s a thought: if you walk up to a little pine tree with an axe, planning to chop it down, take it home, and decorate it with tinsel, well… that pine tree might have a surprise for you. So yeah, maybe don’t bring an axe to the trees. 😉

Guests Befitting the Year

Tania Stupnikova
Guests Befitting the Year
Acrylic on canvas
40×40 cm
2024
Košice, Slovakia

This work was a breakthrough for me. I’ve always believed that creating horror-themed art is perfectly fine. In fact, I love the genre. But at some point, inner barriers would stop me. It’s that “good girl syndrome,” where anything dark or unsettling feels “wrong.”
With this painting, I decided to break past that fear. It was an experiment, a chance to create not what’s “right,” but what truly inspires me. Here, I explored the balance between cozy and unsettling, familiar and frightening.
The figure outside the window is a symbol. For each viewer, it might represent a personal fear or challenge. It’s a reminder that sometimes, we need to confront the unknown.
For me, this is more than just a piece; it’s a step toward greater freedom—in art and in myself. Experiments like these often lead to new discoveries, and that’s the true magic of art.

Lessons of Happiness

Tania Stupnikova
Lessons of Happiness
Acrylic on canvas
60×60 cm
2024
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 504 EUR

In a faraway kingdom, eerily similar to our homeland, there was a war. People suffered and died, rights and freedoms were trampled, and the enemy relentlessly bombed peaceful towns and villages. People hid in basements and bomb shelters, and even school lessons were sometimes held in these underground shelters.
Those who lost their homes received little to no help and were living below the poverty line. Leaving the country was an option for only a few — only those who were not able to fight.
Then, the queen decided to help the children by introducing something called “Lessons of Happiness” in schools. She didn’t resettle the refugees, she didn’t feed the hungry, nor did she build new shelters. No, she thought the best solution was simply to teach the children how to be happy.
This painting is about that faraway kingdom, where a small creature hiding in a basement is being taught how to be happy. But happy mask won’t stay on their face. Because that’s not how we become happy. We are happy when we are free, when we are with our families, when we are safe…

The Land of the Free?

Tania Stupnikova
The Land of the Free?
Acrylic on canvas
80×80 cm
2024
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 896 EUR

At first, I envisioned this painting as an allusion to the war and its consequences. For people, it’s as natural to protect themselves and their families as it is for an octopus to live in the water.
But as I began studying octopuses to better understand their anatomy and behavior, I discovered that all octopuses sold as food are caught in the wild. Now, the fact that we need to eat other living beings is already a troubling reality, but when we’re capturing intelligent creatures to consume — that’s something we shouldn’t accept.
Octopuses represent an entirely different branch of evolution. Their intelligence is not like ours, and their way of perceiving the world is vastly different too. Yet, we don’t eat creatures like monkeys or dolphins, for instance. So, if a species is intelligent but distinctly “alien” to us, we somehow find it acceptable to consume them.
To me, this challenges the very idea of freedom — especially in a world where we talk so much about rights and liberties, while at the same time stripping them away from other beings.
I hope that anyone who looks at this painting will reflect on their impact on the world around them and understand how crucial it is to respect all forms of life — even those who can’t fight for themselves.

Sorry, I have nowhere to go home to

Tania Stupnikova
Sorry, I have nowhere to go home to
Acrylic on canvas
60×60 cm
2024
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 504 EUR

I often reflect on the themes of refuge and emigration. Changing your homeland makes you incredibly vulnerable.
I haven’t seen much art that delves into this topic, but it’s something that deeply concerns me. We will never be able to live the same life, even when the war ends, and we will never truly belong here, no matter which country we choose. We can never fully return; there will always be a part of another country within us, an awareness that another life is possible. Our cozy bubble has burst forever, and nothing will ever be the same again. Even when the war ends.
Luckily, I adapt quite quickly. I really like Slovakia and the Slovak people; their mentality is very close to mine. The city of Košice reminds me of the Kyiv of my childhood, the Kyiv of the ’80s, still green and not marred by total overdevelopment.
But a part of my heart will always remain in Ukraine.

After another global extinction or thank you for freeing the planet for us

Tania Stupnikova
After another global extinction or thank you for freeing the planet for us
Acrylic on canvas
80×80 cm
2024
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 896 EUR

As a refugee from war, this issue is very personal to me. Fortunately, I haven’t witnessed the horrors firsthand, and my life remains largely intact except for my place of residence. My family is with me, my cats are with me, and nothing has been destroyed or lost.
Except for my pre-war life.
But my experience isn’t as traumatic as others, so I mostly worry about the larger-scale destruction, about my country. I understand the impact of war not just on people but on the land itself. On the environment, on animals, on entire ecosystems. I know that for many decades, perhaps even centuries, my homeland will be suffering.
This painting reflects my thoughts on what will happen if the war doesn’t end. Humans are not as resilient as we think; we depend on the earth, and we cannot afford to destroy it.

Take care of the cockroaches in your head

Tania Stupnikova
Take care of the cockroaches in your head
Acrylic on canvas
80×80 cm
2024
Košice, Slovakia
Price: 896 EUR

In our culture, we often say that strange people have cockroaches in their heads. While this might have been an insult once, nowadays it’s used to highlight someone’s uniqueness. People often say you should love the cockroaches in your head, meaning that these quirks make you special, make you who you are.
I had painted a piece on this theme before, but I wanted to create a more refined version. This new painting also has a subtle message that another artist pointed out: after we’re gone, our cockroaches remain. In my case, they will stay through my paintings, but everyone has their own cockroaches, and they will remain in their own way.