Once In Front Of the Lens. Now Behind the Canvas. Meet Ellen Sheidlin

by Barbara Yakimchuk

Once In Front Of the Lens. Now Behind the Canvas. Meet Ellen Sheidlin

24 Apr 2025

The concept of a multidisciplinary artist has become a bit blurry these days — everyone claims it, but few truly embody it. But recently, at Art Dubai 2025, I met someone who does.

Ellen Sheidlin first rose to fame with her surreal photography and distinctive visual style, capturing the imagination of millions online. But in recent years, she has been exploring a different side of herself — as a visual artist working across both digital and physical mediums.

For those already familiar with her work, this interview offers a glimpse behind the scenes — into her creative process, the places she finds inspiration, and the small rituals that guide her. And for those discovering her for the first time, it is an invitation into the layered universe of a true multidisciplinary artist.

Let's get to know Ellen a little more below.

— Ellen, your popularity began on Instagram. Has that visibility helped your creativity, or does it sometimes hold you back — make you feel like you shouldn’t be “too much”?

— Being “too much” online? I don't think that is even possible. I always try to stay true to my inner vision, even if it goes beyond what is expected or familiar. Sometimes, I intentionally don't fit in — and that is where my freedom lives. Instagram feels like a personal diary to me, or the cover of my storybooks. It is my gallery, and it is also a space that connects people from all over the world who love art.

— You are very much part of the digital world. Do outside comments affect you? Have you ever dealt with hate, and how do you handle it?

— I have learned to recognise what is really about me, and what belongs in a folder called “not mine.” I can feel the difference between hate and honest critique — and I try to use any feedback as a chance to grow.

When something does hurt, my go-to tool is silence. I switch off the noise, mute the comments — sometimes even turn off my phone. Silence is my shield. And when I come back, I can ask myself more clearly: What can I do differently next time to avoid that feeling?

— You have been in the art world for quite a while, originally through photography on Instagram. How did that evolve into the kind of drawing and painting you create today?

— This art actually grew out of the digital world. But when I turned 25 — I am 30 now — I realised the virtual space was not enough anymore. I wanted to feel things with my own hands. I wanted to feel paint under my nails and the mess of real materials.

That is when I picked up a brush for the first time. And the moment it touched the canvas, it felt like holding a magic wand — like I had become a magician.

Photos: @sheidlina

— So you started painting with oil paints. How did that evolve into digital art again?

— I started with traditional drawing and painting because I needed that physical connection — that feeling of my fingers becoming the part of my work. I never studied painting, but I knew from the very beginning that I was creating something for an exhibition. Painting gives me something deeply physical. It helps me taste the moment and feel the fullness of life.

But eventually, I returned to digital. I wanted to take my art with me everywhere. I realised something important: a black screen is not just a screen — it is my portable studio. You can not carry oil paints in your pocket, but you can carry a tablet. It became my travelling home. And that got me thinking: could I build a sense of home inside the digital space?

— Do you prefer drawing digitally or working with traditional materials now?

— For the past six months, I have been splitting my days — half with traditional oil paints, half digital. Digital gives me flexibility: I can create anywhere, especially when I am on the move or when my thoughts feel scattered. I love switching between mediums because each one offers a different perspective — like viewing the same idea from 360 degrees.

— What is the main difference between photography and painting?

— With photography, I had one rule: everything had to be real. I would sew the costumes, build the props — nothing fake. But painting unlocked a different world for me. It let me go beyond what’s physically possible.

The biggest difference is the freedom of imagination. When I draw or paint, I feel like anything is possible. I just say “yes” to whatever idea comes to mind — no matter how strange or surreal.

My very first painting was of flamingos with children’s faces. That is when it hit me: I could never become a flamingo, but I could paint one. And I loved that idea — that is when I really began learning how to draw.

— Do you have any creative rituals or strange habits that help you when you are working?

— All my small rituals are a bit strange, but they work. One of them — I always make tea before I start my creative process, but I almost never drink it. It just sits beside me, like it is holding space for me. Sometimes I talk to myself out loud — like I am trying to convince the image in my head to appear.

I also usually mute all my chats — otherwise, I get distracted every two minutes. And I always carry a notebook with me, even if I know I do not open it. Just in case that one perfect idea decides to show up.

— How long does it take you to create an art piece?

— When I am working on photo concepts or sculpture (or anything with a story behind it) — the idea always takes way longer than the execution. You have to unplug completely, build your own little island, and just sit with it. For me, that usually means curling up in bed with a sketchbook and drawing whatever comes to mind. I always get really sleepy at that point — feeling like my brain is floating somewhere between dreaming and waking. That is where the real ideas live.

When it comes to drawing, especially digital, I use a kind of surrealist automatic technique. It is not about inventing — it is about discovering. I close my eyes, draw random lines, then open them and see what they remind me of. Most of the time it is faces, or fish, or something strangely familiar.

I have been doing this for over five years now. These little creatures that show up in the lines — I call them portraits of my imagination. It doesn not feel like I create them. I just find them. A line might look like a fish, the fish turns into a bird, and the bird might bloom into flowers. Then I use my figurative skills to shape what’s already there.

So creating digital art, for me, feels like a kind of magic — bringing these simple beings to life in layered, dreamlike worlds.

— About the lines you draw — how did you realise this was your process? Were you inspired by any well-known artists?

— Honestly? No. I was not really inspired by anyone in particular. I am usually too lazy to go digging for references. And nobody teaches you this stuff. If you did not grow up around creative people saying, “Here are the secrets,” you just do not learn them.

I am only now starting to collect those secrets — like little berries. The real trick, I think, is having the right questions in your mind. If you know how to ask — and how to listen — the answers always show up.

Also, a lot of growth hides in the challenges people throw your way. That is where the gold is.

— Like what?

Once, a friend said, “Can you paint something on my wall? But I want you to actually do it — in real life.”

And I was like, “No way. My work is very narrative, it needs to be thought through — it takes time.” But then I saw this empty white shoebox and started doodling on it with a pen. I looked at it and thought, “Oh… this looks like a duck in a hat.”

I called her right away and said, “Okay, I will paint your wall — if you let me draw absolutely anything I want.” And that is how those little berries were born.

— What is the biggest misconception you once believed about what it means to be an artist?

— I used to think being an artist meant being someone “special” — someone set apart from the world. But actually, being an artist is about being deeply connected to yourself. It is about sensitivity. It is about using your hands, noticing the tiny connections others miss, seeing meaning where others just see shapes. It is really about attention — and constantly asking, “What if?..”

— What is the least aesthetic part of your creative process — the one thing people would never expect? What would actually shock them if they saw behind the scenes?

— Chaos. Complete chaos. Piles of fabric, plaster dust, paint in my hair, scribbles on the backs of receipts. Bananas in the corner of the frame that are already black — but I keep them because, “What if I need them?”

Sometimes it is me crying from exhaustion. Sometimes it is masking tape holding together props that look light as air in the final photo. What you see is a neat little theatre. But behind the scenes? It is a wild, beautiful circus of mess, emotion, and technical magic.

— Many of your pieces — including the most recent digital mural "Mist" you brought to Art Dubai — feel layered, both visually and emotionally. How do you know when a piece is truly finished?

— A piece is finished not when I decide it is done, but when it starts to breathe on its own. When I can step back, look at it, and feel that it is speaking without me — that is when I know I can let it go.

— And how do you recognise when something just is not working and is not worth saving? Do you ever feel a signal from within to let go?

— When something is not working, I feel it physically. There is a kind of resistance. Still, sometimes I keep pushing, stubbornly — and honestly, that only exhausts both me and the piece.

Over time, I have learned to notice the signs. If I am spending more time fixing it than thinking about it, that is usually my cue to stop. And I have come to see that stopping is also a form of care — for the work, and for myself.

— Now let's talk about the works you brought to Art Dubai. Which piece do you think has the most potential for commercial success?

— Honestly, I love them all. But I am especially excited about the digital works — the moving pieces. That is what I would want to own right now. They help the art come alive. There is something magical in seeing a piece shift, move, and breathe.

And that is the direction I am most focused on now. In the future, I would love to work more with film, animation, and maybe even cartoons. I do not want to just tell stories — I want to create whole worlds. Places people can step into. Worlds that expand the imagination they already carry inside them.

— You already have three digital murals: "Constellation of Thoughts", "Mirage", and "Mist". You did not initially intend for them to be a triptych, but when seen together, there is a clear thread connecting them. How do you see their relationship now?

— At first, I had no plan to create a second or third piece. Everything came to life intuitively. Even the titles of my works are not labels I add at the end — they are more like clues I leave myself at the beginning, signposts for where the idea first began.

I really enjoy returning to my own works and learning from them, almost like having a conversation with them. When I look at these three murals as a whole, I see a kind of journey — a way out of illusion.

— Before the Art Dubai you also had a show “Unconditional” in Seoul which is still on — how did the experiences differ?

— First, I think it is important to separate an exhibition from an art fair.

An exhibition gives you space to speak — to let your voice echo through every wall. An art fair, on the other hand, is filled with many voices at once. Even in a group show, the energy is not as focused as it is in a solo exhibition.

To me, Art Dubai feels like a stage — a place where I get to meet people I might never cross paths with otherwise. My works become like small houses I have built, and I get to invite guests inside.

At my solo exhibition, I have complete freedom to do whatever I want — I could even place a large installation right in the middle of the room if I felt like it. But at a fair there are certain limits, but those boundaries can actually be freeing.

— And one last thing — your personal style. How much does it reflect the kind of art you are making? Is it part of your artistic process? Or do you see yourself as separate from the work?

— Honestly, I do not draw inspiration from specific objects around me. It is more about the place I am in — the day itself. I do not have a fixed visual style. I just try to tune into the space and how I am feeling in that moment.

I used to have this little rule: every time I had an exhibition opening, I would sew myself an outfit just for it. But later, I realised — I do not want to shine brighter than the work. I am not part of the piece. I want to highlight it, not compete with it. That shift really changed the way I think about how I show up.

by Barbara Yakimchuk