Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Biljana Petreska. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Biljana, thanks for joining us today. Can you talk to us about how you learned to do what you do?

How did you learn to do what you do?
My learning process has always been layered. I studied both pharmacy and fine arts—two fields that might seem unrelated, but for me, they overlap in surprising ways. In pharmacy, I developed a way of seeing the world through precision and systems, while art gave me the freedom to unlearn that rigidity. As part of my pharmacy studies, I studied botany and pharmacognosy, and that knowledge has found new life in my art practice. I use organic materials like leaves, feathers, and flower petals to create printing substrates—letting natural elements influence both the texture and meaning of the work. My learning has come from both structured study and hands-on experimentation—blending science, emotion, and intuition.

Knowing what you know now, what could you have done to speed up your learning process?
I discovered how much I love visual art in my thirties. Looking back, I wish I had given myself permission—and had the confidence—to pursue it more seriously the moment I realized how much it meant to me. I spent a long time thinking of art as something peripheral, rather than central. I also would’ve sought out mentorship and the art community much earlier. Having people who could reflect things back to me, challenge me, and offer support would have helped me grow faster—not just as an artist, but as a person learning to trust their creative voice.

What skills do you think were most essential?
For me, curiosity and observation have been everything. I thrive on change and find enjoyment in the process of learning—being a beginner over and over again. The ability to look closely—at myself, others, energy, spaces, emotions, and light—feels foundational to how I work. Just as essential has been the ability to sit with discomfort. Whether it’s the uncertainty of starting something new or the vulnerability that comes with self-exploration or self-doubt, learning to stay with those feelings has been a skill I’ve had to keep strengthening.

What obstacles stood in the way of learning more?
The biggest obstacle was my own inner critic. That, and time—trying to maintain a career in pharmacy while making space for art has always required careful balancing. There’s also a quiet pressure, especially in structured professions like pharmacy, to follow a more defined or linear path. It took me a while to realize that it was okay to move differently—that choosing art didn’t mean abandoning the rest of who I am. Resisting that either/or mindset took emotional energy, but over time, I’ve come to see that tension as part of the work itself. It’s what shapes the way I create.

Biljana, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I wasn’t exposed to art growing up, and for a long time, I didn’t know it was something I could be part of. About 15 years ago, I signed up for a drawing class — one of many classes I take just out of curiosity. I had no expectations. But something clicked in me, quietly but deeply. That first class opened a door I didn’t know existed, and I’ve been walking through it ever since.

Though I trained as a pharmacist, art has become an essential part of how I understand the world and myself. My work lives at the intersection of photography, drawing, mixed media, and material exploration. What begins as a personal investigation often grows into something more universal — expressions of vulnerability and resilience that others can recognize and feel.

What matters most to me, beyond the act of creating, are the quiet connections that unfold when someone sees a part of themselves in my work — when they feel recognized, softened, or gently understood.

At its core, my artwork isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence — about holding space for what’s tender, resilient, and everything that exists in between.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

I think one thing that might be hard to understand from the outside is how much of the creative process happens internally — how often it’s less about making something beautiful, and more about making sense of something within yourself. That’s exactly why I turn to self-portraiture.

For me, self-portraiture is like keeping a visual diary. It’s a way to pause and reflect — to sit with whatever’s unfolding in my inner world and give it a shape I can see. Sometimes I make these images when I don’t have the words yet. Sometimes they come after something has settled, offering a kind of closure or clarity I didn’t expect.

Being both in front of and behind the camera allows me to approach myself with a kind of honesty and tenderness I don’t always access in daily life. It’s not about capturing a perfect image — it’s about witnessing myself in a moment, as I am. Vulnerable, searching, grounded, undone — whatever truth is present that day.

This process helps me make sense of things. It gives me distance and closeness at the same time. And while it begins as something personal, I’ve found that it often echoes outward — others see themselves in the work too. In that way, self-portraiture becomes a quiet conversation, a shared reflection, even though it starts in solitude.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

When I first began creating, I believed that meaningful art required presenting a polished, idealized version of the subject, one that fit into societal expectations. I thought I needed to hide the raw or unfinished parts, thinking they weren’t supposed to be seen.

It wasn’t until I started using self-portraiture as a form of expression that I realized I had to unlearn this notion of perfection. In self-portraiture, I had to confront my own insecurities and allow myself to be truly seen — not just by others, but by myself. I learned that the act of exposing my vulnerabilities was actually where the power in the work lay.

By letting go of the need to conform to some external standard, I began to create from a place of authenticity, where what felt true became the most important thing. Unlearning this fear has been transformative. Now, I embrace the parts of me that are messy, uncertain, and raw — those are the pieces that feel most connected to who I am and what I want to share with the world.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.biljanapetreska.com
• Instagram: @biljanartist
• Facebook: Biljana Petreska Art

Image Credits

Images are all mine