In an era in which perfection is delivered with a click and artificial intelligence effortlessly creates new worlds, the short film “It’s not for me” by Veronika Bolotina feels like a quiet pause. No spectacle, no fast cuts – but a delicate, analog portrait of the emergence, doubts and growth of a young artist. And about what we so often overlook: the beauty of the unagitated.
One apartment, lots of screens – and cats that watch everything
At the center is Lera Dubitskaya, a Polish artist born in Belarus. Her world is small, intimate, full of quiet routines – and inhabited by cats that are as present as the colors on her brushes. She paints fragile creatures: whimsical animals, melancholy mythical creatures, delicate monsters with big hearts. Each painting seems to be a silent expression of her inner dialog – with herself, her origins, her place in this world.
Analog art as an attitude
Veronika Bolotina made a conscious decision to use 16mm film. Not out of nostalgia, but out of conviction. The choice of material is part of the narrative – because filming analog means making a commitment. Every take is precious. Every decision counts. No digital rewinding, no “we’ll do it differently again quickly”.
“Film, just like painting, has a tangible presence,” explains the director. “It’s prone to mistakes, but that’s what makes it honest.” In this way, the act of filming itself becomes an artistic statement – a kind of visual counterpart to working with paint, canvas and brushes.
The quiet power of female creativity
“It’s not for me” does not follow a classic dramaturgy. There are no loud turning points, no exaggerated emotions. Instead, a delicate rhythm is created from everyday moments, glances and movements. The camera does not look down on Lera, but remains at eye level. What emerges is a space for vulnerability – and for the quiet tenacity that often accompanies artistic creation.
The cats become silent witnesses. They sneak through the picture, demanding attention or demonstratively ignoring everything. They are muse, metaphor and roommate at the same time. And their presence lends the film an additional depth – like little question marks that wander through every scene.
A reunion with creative excitement
The connection between Veronika and Lera is no coincidence. Both once studied art together – in Belarus, before their paths diverged. Veronika went into film, Lera stayed with painting. Now their paths are crossing again – in a project that is more than just a film: a visual reconciliation, a creative rediscovery of two souls who understand each other.
“Of course it was challenging at times,” says Veronika. “But we inspired and spurred each other on – in the best possible way.”
A film as a counter-narrative to acceleration
In the midst of a culture in which content is consumed and forgotten in a matter of seconds, “It’s not for me” is almost an act of resistance. Not a retro statement, but a deliberate counter-proposal. An invitation to slow down. To look. To listen. And to be touched by the tenderness of a moment.
The film does not celebrate a smooth surface or staged genius. But the path to it. The struggle with oneself. The small steps that sometimes result in great works.
When women create spaces for each other
Perhaps the most beautiful thing about this movie is not what it shows – but how it was made. Two women who give each other space. For doubts. For ideas. For differences. Not out of principle, but out of genuine respect. And out of the desire to create something together that lasts.
“It’s not for me” is currently playing at festivals – quietly, unwaveringly, like a gentle animal that cannot be tamed. And that is precisely where its greatest power unfolds.
About the author
Kinga Bartczak advises, coaches and writes on female empowerment, new work culture, organizational development, systemic coaching and personal branding. She is also the managing director of UnternehmerRebellen GmbH and publisher of the FemalExperts magazine .
