In 2019, while living in Fabijoniškės, a district in Vilnius, Lithuania, I experienced a nuclear catastrophe… My street, my block of flats, and my everyday surroundings were transformed into the backdrop of one of history's worst nuclear disasters. My neighbourhood was used as a filming location for the HBO miniseries Chornobyl. Experiencing this nuclear simulation made me question how a rational, energy-producing technology like atomic power can evoke such mysticism, fear, and ideological ambiguity. How do political narratives shape our collective perception of energy? How do we portray nuclear energy?



Now, I live in the Netherlands, a country with a flat landscape, constantly reclaiming land from the sea through the use of dikes, canals, and polders. The Borssele Nuclear Power Station, built in 1974, vulnerably sits by the North Sea, which poses a risk of rising tides and flooding. Meanwhile, the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant in Lithuania, with reactors similar to those in Chornobyl, is undergoing decommissioning as part of Lithuania's EU accession commitments. These nuclear power plants are both monumental and vulnerable, capable of turning territory into exclusion zones.




In April 2025, I encountered Gintaras Zinkevičius' Lying at an exhibition, 'Post Ars', at Radvila Palace Art Museum. A polyptych consisting of a text and three photographs, the work depicts the artist lying on a blanket and pillow in post-industrial spaces, questioning the implications of passivity and the potential for personal agency within societal constraints. Inspired by Lying, I explore what I call "active lying." Instead of resting or withdrawing, I lie or stand in ways that generate, manage, and circulate bodily energy. Yoga—derived from the Sanskrit word meaning "to yoke" or "to unite"—is a physical and mental discipline that links the body to the spirit. My body is present in a windy space in Borsele, where the power station alarm goes off every 10 minutes… In the pre-storm serenity near Ignalina Nuclear Plant, where distant metallic creaks echo through the landscape… At my grandmother's farmyard, where I learned, as a child, how electricity travels into a household. By the old, defective soviet glider, which entirely relies on invisible atmospheric forces… These autoportraits are performative acts - the body, here, becomes a site of energy management, where presence itself is a mode of inquiry.