Dear followers and members of Zarika,
Hi there! My name is Mariam, I am a Junior student at American University in Bulgaria (AUBG) majoring in Psychology and Political Science, and I recently accepted the role of an article writer at this beloved association.
My vision for 2026 at Zarika is to publish a series of thought-provoking and compelling articles on art, culture, society, and travel with well-researched and insightful perspectives from psychology, philosophy, and sociology. Writing has been a passion of mine for years and consequently, I will take great pleasure and integrity in providing accurate and engaging materials for you to read here. Articles will be published once every month in both English and Bulgarian languages, and although the first few topics have already been decided, the Zarika team will be grateful for any suggestions or ideas you might have for us. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s dive into the first topic of the 2026 series: Finding meaning through art.
A Lifelong Connection: Childhood, Pause, and Rediscovery
When I first picked up a pencil and started drawing cartoon characters on a piece of paper, I was only three years old. At the time, my family in Tbilisi, Georgia, wanted to enroll me in kindergarten, allowing some new friendships and independence necessary for any child’s social development. However, I felt quite isolated and bored during my two weeks there, and quickly convinced my mother to let me take art classes instead. With intensive lessons on crafts, drawing, painting, crocheting, ceramics, and embroidery, nearly seven years of my childhood passed by with soul fulfillment, divergent thinking, and curious self-expression. My connection with art became the fundamental aspect to my life satisfaction as well as identity formation. Therefore, it was shocking to all that knew me to find out that I had quit pursuing this talent in my teenage years. Suddenly, instead of opening my bedroom door and showing pages of new artworks to my family members and friends, I started locking myself away, reading books, journaling about new discoveries, and listening to alternative music genres. The brushes, sketchbooks, and palettes all started to collect dust on my shelves. People noted, “you used to draw so well” or “you haven’t completed anything recently, have you?” with a downhearted look on their face. Change was noticeable, coated with layers of confusion, regret, and sorrow.
Then came 2020. The Covid-19 frightened the world and locked people inside their homes for months. Alongside the fear and pressure that I felt at the time, I was also restless; I had been given too much free time and too little to do. With days going by without anything new or memorable, my life began to feel meaningless. That was when I looked at those shelves again and decided it was time – time to create. With that decision, I rediscovered what filled my cup of tea the most. What made me a better, more self-realized, and an interesting individual. With many months of the pandemic that followed, I began experimenting with various art materials, mediums, and styles. Slowly but surely, I mastered what provoked the eye the most, crafted ideas of my own, and expanded a childhood hobby into a freelancing start-up, M&M-Art. This account reached over a thousand followers in a span of a year, giving me the opportunity to earn a little amount of money by doing something that I enjoyed. As I took on more and more commissions though, some requiring skills I did not feel comfortable in completing yet or styles I could not relate to as an authentic artist, I felt less and less during painting. The financial and the marketing side of my art page had overpowered the magic of creating. This is how I learned that choosing a career based on what you love doing the most may not be the best advice. As with time, the pressure, the expectations, the technicality, and the complexity of everyday life, can and will most probably, wash away the allure of that activity.
Expanding Horizons: Art, Community, and Leadership
Nearing the end of the summer in 2022, exactly 10 days after I turned seventeen, I got on an overseas flight by myself and began a year-long journey of living in the U.S. with the FLEX (Future Leaders Exchange) program. This was a new, completely unexpected and transformative experience in my adolescence that naturally closed many chapters that had come before, including my freelancing start-up. However, creating, as a way of enjoying and expressing stayed, evolved, and developed during my time in the United States. With the privilege of working with experienced and engaging art teachers at Westerville Central High School, where I spent my last year of secondary education, I managed to broaden my horizons and discover the healing powers of art. There, I learned that one could organize fundraisers with local artists, collaborate on international projects for refugees, or gather troubled children and teens from nearby locations for art therapy sessions. There, art expanded from a deeply personal and solitary activity to a social dialogue and psychological assistance. As Banksy quotes Cesar A. Cruz, art comforted the disturbed and disturbed the comfortable.
When I arrived at American University in Bulgaria and started searching for a student club that I could relate to, I was surprised to find that art only existed in the forms of theater and music. Our liberal arts campus, filled with Broadway performances, student-led newspapers, various types of sports, and entrepreneurial programs, paradoxically, barely had any representation for fine arts. Therefore, during the Fall 2024 semester, I began gathering like-minded students, self-taught artists, and enthusiasts, and together, we founded ARTistocracy, the space where creativity would merge with our community and spark a visible, lasting presence for fine arts. Over the course of the last year and a half, ARTistocracy has grown into an active platform for exhibitions, collaboration, and creative dialogue across disciplines. With nearly twenty-five student volunteers every semester, the club had managed to secure solidary funding from the university and organize social, educational, or philanthropic events, such as “The World of Fani Exhibition”, “The Starry Night Collective” or “Sip and Paint Soiree”. Building and managing ARTistocracy has given me invaluable insights into translating vision to reality and discovering meaning through service for my community.
Why Does Art Matter?
Yet, beyond leadership, organization, or impact, this experience compelled me to pause and reflect on a deeper question: Why does art so often become a source of meaning? Not only for those who create it, but also for those that encounter it? This was not just a personal, but a profoundly human question, acknowledging that although art may be seen as an accessory or decor sometimes, really it is a way of understanding ourselves, connecting with others, and making sense of the world.
Philosophers have long grappled with the question of why humans create art at all. If Aristotle understood art as mimesis, a way of interpreting life through form and narrative, Friedrich Nietzsche saw it as a necessary illusion; a force that allowed us to affirm life in the presence of suffering, chaos, or impermanence. Plato was famously suspicious of art, arguing that it was twice removed from the truth, “an imitation of an imitation”, and therefore, potentially misleading. In contrast, Georg Wilhelm Hegel viewed art as a way for societies to express their deepest values, fears, or ideals of their respected history and culture. While these philosophical perspectives differ in their conclusions, all of them suggest that art is not just ornamental, but existential. That it is not something we add to life once survival is secured, but something we turn to precisely when life feels too overwhelming or uncertain. Art serves as a medium of staying with reality in times of crisis without being consumed by it.
From a psychological standpoint, this function of art becomes even clearer. Creative expression has been proven to reduce stress, regulate emotions, and support identity development, especially during periods of transition. In therapy, when words fail or become too rigid, art offers a parallel language. One that does not demand precision, grammar, or logic. One that permits contradiction, ambiguity, and vulnerability to coexist simultaneously. Consequently, it mirrors the human psyche far more honestly than linear narratives ever could. In a world that is increasingly defined by productivity and efficiency, art is what asks us to slow down, sit with our emotions, and observe rather than immediately resolve. It reminds us that meaning is not always found through answers or consumption, but through engagement and the willingness to create.
This is the lens through which I hope to approach my writing for Zarika; not as an expert or an authority, but as a curious participant. In the months to come, I look forward to exploring ideas, experiences, and reflections that inspire this kind of curiosity, spark conversations, and invite us to see the world a little differently. I hope you will join me on this journey.