Rooted in the quiet persistence of place, Julia Płoch’s practice unfolds from landscapes shaped by memory, transformation, and erosion. Coming from Poland, where rural environments, religious imagery, and remnants of the past coexist with rapid architectural change, the work carries traces of what remains as much as what disappears. Old cottages, marshlands, abandoned structures, and dark devotional imagery form an inner archive that continues to surface through atmosphere, symbolism, and tone. Rather than documenting a specific geography, the practice absorbs its textures and emotional weight, allowing them to reappear intuitively through drawing and painting. At its core, the work is driven by observation, doubt, patience, and an enduring conviction that art is not a choice but a lifelong necessity.

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How has your upbringing or cultural heritage shaped the themes and techniques you explore in your art today? 

I come from Poland, a country of churches, chapels, willows, and old cottages. The country is moving forward, the cottages are being demolished and replaced by white square buildings with gray stripes as only decoration. Beautiful gardens are turned into flat lawns, and single-family home estates are being built in mass in the countryside.

Not everything disappears, however.

I try to travel around Poland in my free time, not only to hike in the mountains and forests, but also to villages and the nooks and crannies of small towns. I take many photographs, which form my inspiration base. People are permeated by their surroundings, but it's up to us what we pay attention to and what we hold in our memories. Swamps, marshes, lakes, beautiful trees, old cottages, crumbling walls, abandoned buildings, and many, many churches  filled with dark works of art that celebrate pain and suffering (which made a big impression on me when I was a child)—all this resonates in my art. It is not my intention to create works about Poland, but these elements will always be a part of me, they will influence my works and – I hope – enrich them.

Can you pinpoint a single moment in your life when you realised art was not just a passion but your purpose?

I remember the exact moment I realized I could draw. I was sick, lying in bed, and copying horses from a folder I'd been given. The end result shocked me—I decided with the conviction of a child that I was and would be an artist, and I never changed my mind. 

I have always been torn by doubts about my talent, my importance as an artist, and the value of my work, but I was always convinced that art is my purpose in life.

How important is it for viewers to understand the intended message of your work? Does ambiguity add value, or do you seek clarity in your expression? 

I treat the interpretation of my works as open. What matters most to me is to make an impression or evoke a feeling and convey a distinct atmosphere. Although the situations depicted in my works may be considered very specific, and I often use symbols, their interpretation is left to the viewer.

Can you take us through the evolution of an artwork, from that first spark of inspiration to the finished piece? 

My creative process always begins with an initial idea and gathering inspiration—sometimes it's an entire mood board, and sometimes it's just a first sketch or a photo.

The next stage - sketching - is extremely important to me. For most of my works, I have created several to a dozen sketches and designs. The vision of the final work in my head is usually very vague, and it often takes me a long time to concretize it and be satisfied with it. Although I have created works after making the first sketch, sometimes I have to force myself to stop myself from creating more and more versions of the project.

The number of hours I spend on a single work depends mostly on the technique. Since I started using gouache, I have been able to speed up the process a little, but I am always prepared for a long and difficult journey to complete a work, which often takes dozens of hours.

Artificial Intelligence is increasingly infiltrating creative fields. Do you see artificial intelligence as a threat, a tool, or a collaborator in the art world? 

AI could be a helpful tool for artists if its use were very specifically limited and regulated, which seems impossible to achieve. The topic is difficult and broad, but from what I understand, AI's "creativity" couldn't exist without appropriating the work of millions of artists. This isn't about inspiration and learning, as in the case of humans, but rather about literally creating a database of works that can be combined and modified, imitating the author's style.

I have no doubt that the current development and use of AI is already making the work of artists, earning opportunities, the number of commissions, and the level of income increasingly difficult and unfair. Artists, previously exploited for small sums, and sometimes without payment, are becoming completely unnecessary for some people. Many clients will sacrifice quality and originality for quick and free results, which may also affect the taste and demand of their audiences. Recently, a very important illustration competition in Poland (with a substantial prize) was won by works mostly generated by AI, even though its use was prohibited by the regulations. Such situations are happening and will continue to happen more and more.

What are your long-term aspirations as an artist, both personally and professionally? 

I dream of having more time and space for growth and creation. Taking important life steps and making big changes is always very difficult for me, as is believing in my own abilities and success. I would like to overcome this fear and distribute my portfolio. I dream of illustrating books, especially projects that utilize not only my skills but also the atmosphere and style of my work. I also wanted to focus on creating larger, more advanced works, not just drawings and paintings – I hope to continue to explore new materials and means of expression throughout my life.

Can you imagine ever choosing to stop creating art? What might lead you to such a decision? 

I can imagine countless scenarios that would lead to a wide variety of situations in my life. However, if I were to choose the most likely ones, I think I would have to find myself in a very difficult health or mental situation that would completely paralyze me. I don't see how I could voluntarily stop creating for no particular reason.

Have you considered teaching your artistic skills to others? What excites or challenges you about that? 

I have been teaching art to children, teenagers, and adults for eight years. I teach some students privately, but most days I teach at an art school. Although I would prefer to focus on my own creative work, I find this job very interesting and rewarding. Many students (including the youngest ones) surprise and delight me with their imagination, originality, and different perspectives on the topics I teach. This prevents me from becoming too isolated, which I am prone to, and pushes me out of my hermetic way of looking at artistic creation. I also greatly enjoy sharing my knowledge and experience.

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Across meticulous sketching, prolonged making, and an openness to ambiguity, Julia Płoch builds works that prioritize mood over explanation and presence over certainty. Symbols remain unresolved, inviting viewers to linger rather than decode. Teaching runs alongside personal practice as both a grounding force and a source of renewed perspective, reinforcing the belief that imagination thrives through exchange. Looking ahead, aspirations remain focused on growth, exploration of new materials, and the creation of more expansive works, including book illustration and larger-scale projects. Even amid uncertainty and hesitation, the commitment to making persists—anchored in the understanding that creation is inseparable from living, and that stopping would require circumstances far beyond ordinary choice.