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Life, Values & Legacy: Our Chat with Viktoria Branchstone of Plano

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Viktoria Branchstone . Check out our conversation below.

Hi Viktoria, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to share your story, experiences and insights with our readers. Let’s jump right in with an interesting one: What battle are you avoiding?
I’ve been avoiding the battle of saying goodbye. To places, people, seasons of life that shaped me.
As someone who’s been displaced, I carry a lot of grief that I don’t always have time or space to unpack. I create as a way to honor what’s been lost, but I still catch myself holding tightly to things that may never return. Letting go fully and that’s the hard part.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Viktoriia — a Ukrainian artist creating under the name Branchstone. I work with found natural materials like tree bark, roots, and stones, blending them with painting to build abstract, textured pieces that carry memory, emotion, and place.

My art was born from loss — of landscapes, safety, and the sense of home — and became a way to preserve what couldn’t come with me. It’s deeply tied to nature, not just as inspiration, but as material, language, and collaborator.

Each piece I make is like a quiet map — a way to trace grief, beauty, and survival all at once. I’m currently working on a series that explores resilience through fire-damaged wood, and another project that gently holds space for mourning and rebirth.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
The part of me that needed to constantly prove I was useful, productive, “reasonable.” That version of me helped me survive hard times, adapt to new countries, and stay afloat in systems that didn’t always make space for softness. But now, I’m learning to release that armor.

I don’t want to just function anymore. I want to create from a place of presence, not pressure. I want to let my art breathe — not chase validation, but invite connection. That older part of me served her purpose, but it’s time for a different kind of strength now — one rooted in truth, not performance.

What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Success can feel loud and fleeting, like a rush or celebration. But suffering lingers. It teaches you how to endure without applause, how to find meaning when nothing makes sense, how to keep showing up with tenderness even when the world feels cruel.

It gave me depth, maturity, truth and art.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
They’d say I care deeply about values — integrity, kindness, staying true to what you believe even when it’s hard. I’m not great at pretending. If something doesn’t feel honest or aligned, I can’t just go along with it.

They’d probably also say I’m driven by meaning. I look for it in everything — in nature, in people, in silence, in art. I’m drawn to what’s real and lasting, not what’s flashy or fast.

Also: my cats. Definitely my cats.

Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If immortality were real, what would you build?
I would build a world where animals no longer suffer because of human choices. With time on my side, I’d create truly safe, healing spaces, shelters that are not just functional, but full of dignity, freedom, and comfort.

I’d invest in ethical, cruelty-free systems for people who still consume animal products — systems that honor life instead of exploiting it.

If I had forever, I’d spend it making sure we finally deserved to call ourselves caretakers of this planet.

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