RadLab Studio and the largest festival for analog and experimental photography in Bulgaria
For the second year in a row, RadLab Studio is hosting an event dedicated to analog and experimental photography. De Vita Solitaria / On the Solitary Life is an independent festival – though the word hardly captures its essence – a three-day gathering of artists, enthusiasts, collectors, and researchers of photographic processes who are connected to, or in search of, a relationship with analog photography.
The theme of the 2025 edition is “Solitude” – not as alienation, but as a space for observation, inner dialogue, and conscious encounters with oneself. The festival explores solitude as a potential for creative imagination, while also building a bridge back to the time before social networks, when every image was an act of discovery – found through effort, patience, and silence.
The program of De Vita Solitaria unfolds through six workshops, three exhibitions, four discussions, interventions in public space, and challenges to our own understanding of photography. Events move between the darkroom and the street, between the intimate and the noisy. The atmosphere is participatory and encourages dialogue, combining personal experiences with the collective energy of sharing.
The events will take place at two locations in Gabrovo:
RadLab Studio (9Zh Shipka St.)
RadLab Residency @ Christo & Jeanne-Claude Center (72 Bryanska St. – former Textile High School)
Participation is free of charge. You don’t need to own a Mamiya RB67 or to have read Camera Lucida in French – all that’s required is to register in advance, so that materials and logistics can be prepared.
De Vita Solitaria – RadLab Community Gathering 2025 will be held from 20 to 22 September 2025 in Gabrovo. Full details of the program can be found here.
About RadLab Studio
RadLab Studio is a space for analog and alternative photography where like-minded people can learn, experiment, and inspire one another. The team believes that analog photography and noble photographic processes should be accessible to everyone. Its mission is to foster inclusion by providing open access to the studio, conducting research, and preserving and sharing both knowledge and practical skills.
RadLab believes the most meaningful processes happen together – and invites anyone who shares this vision to become part of its community.
Radoil Serafimov: drawing has never been a decision so much as an extension of self.
📷 Boryana Pandova
For Radoil Serafimov, drawing has never been a decision so much as an extension of self. From early childhood, it existed as a natural motion – quiet, constant, and unquestioned. There was never a dramatic pivot toward art, no sudden realization. It was always there, simply unfolding along with him.
He studied painting at the Faculty of Fine Arts in Veliko Tarnovo, and after graduating, returned to his hometown of Gabrovo. The first couple of years back were marked by uncertainty: a stretch of time defined more by absence than direction. No income, no formal work, no studio. To sustain himself, he began creating paintings with commercial potential. Even in that space, he remained attentive to the integrity of the image, steering away from decorative clichés or cheap sentiment, committed instead to maintaining a sense of internal coherence and aesthetic seriousness.
Eventually, with support from his family, he secured a small attic space that became his first proper studio. In just a few months, he produced around twenty new paintings and began submitting them to competitions and open calls – many of which, at the time, still offered significant opportunities for young artists. Most led to silence. His early efforts were regularly overlooked, especially in the more centralized and saturated circles in Sofia.
📷 Boryana Pandova
But in 2014, something shifted. Though his application for the BAZA Award wasn’t selected, one of its jurors, curator Maria Vassileva, noticed his portfolio. Through the Stoyan Kambarev Foundation, she was then initiating a new award specifically for young painters. Serafimov received the 2014 prize, and with it came an opening – more invitations, more visibility, more recognition. What followed wasn’t a breakthrough in the cinematic sense, but rather a slow, steady unfolding of possibility.
For the next nine years, Serafimov balanced his painting practice with full-time work as a scenography technician in the local Gabrovo theater. It offered financial stability, but more importantly, it allowed him to maintain a consistent presence in the studio. Every free moment, before rehearsals, between productions, after hours, he returned to his canvases.
Over time, his work has evolved in form, palette, and tone, but its core has remained anchored in a particular way of looking: careful, considered, open to ambiguity. Some images are born from direct observation, others from fleeting impressions or visual memory. The subject matter ranges widely – figures, landscapes, fragments of architecture, imagined spaces – but what holds it together is a persistent desire to touch on something beyond the visible.
He rarely begins with a defined message or conceptual frame. Sometimes a painting arrives with urgency, completed in a day, responding to a specific sensation or internal spark. Other times, the process unfolds more slowly in days of looking, doubting, reworking. His more recent practice favors this latter rhythm, marked by intervals of reflection, hesitation, and quiet resistance. What compels him most are forms that resist simple interpretation – shapes or images that contain multiple readings, that suggest rather than state. The symbolic emerges not through theory, but through texture and tone. “I’m drawn to the spaces in an object where something else is hiding,” he says. “Something layered, something not immediately legible.”
📷 Boryana Pandova
When Serafimov was offered a studio at the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center in Gabrovo, his response was cautious. He had grown attached to his previous workspace, and relocating meant disrupting a familiar rhythm. It took months before he fully moved in – months in which the studio existed more as a potential than a place of work. Eventually, that shifted. The space settled around him. He began painting there consistently, finding his own pace within the new architecture. Today, he describes his studio at the Center as a functional, focused environment, less romantic than grounded, less about inspiration than about permission.
The building itself, once a textile school and now in transformation, holds a certain ambient charge. While Serafimov doesn’t directly use found objects or industrial remnants in his work, he responds to their quiet presence. To him, they are not resources to be repurposed but witnesses to time: objects that carry history without needing to explain it.
Though his practice is deeply individual, Serafimov recognizes the subtle value of proximity to others. The artists at the Center each work in distinct mediums, with different temperaments and trajectories, but over time, an organic form of community has begun to take shape – not one based on collaboration, but on presence, on shared effort, on parallel lives unfolding under the same roof. It is not a collective in the conventional sense. There are no joint projects or formal frameworks for exchange. But the slow accumulation of conversations, the gentle weaving of familiarity, has created a quiet current between the studios, one that Serafimov finds grounding, even if he remains mostly inward in his focus.
When asked about the connection between his practice and the Center’s namesakes, Serafimov is reflective but firm. He admires the work of Christo and Jeanne-Claude, their dedication, the magnitude of their vision, their insistence on impermanence. He sees value in the ephemerality they pursued, in the idea that an artwork can be both monumental and momentary. But his own work speaks in another register. It unfolds slowly, endures materially, resists spectacle. He does not seek to mirror their legacy, nor does he feel obliged to. What resonates is their conviction – their unyielding commitment to making, regardless of reception or reward.
In a cultural moment where painting is often asked to justify itself, where trends favor interdisciplinarity, political urgency, or social engagement, Serafimov continues to trust the quiet labor of the image. He is not indifferent to the world, but believes that complexity can live within the frame, within the act of looking, within the relationship between pigment and surface. Not every day in the studio results in a painting. Some are filled with silence, with music playing softly in the background, with notes, books, sketches, and pauses. Others begin with no plan at all: a brushstroke, a line, a movement that slowly unfolds into something more.
There is no fixed concept or unifying thesis behind his work. He avoids declarations. His approach is intuitive, exploratory, porous. If there is a theme, it lies in the attention he gives to things – his commitment to seeing, to lingering, to allowing meaning to arrive without force. As for the future of his place in the Center, he remains open. If the atmosphere shifts too far from the conditions that allow his practice to thrive, if the rhythms change, if the demands overtake the quiet, he may choose to move on. For now, though, he is here. And in this moment, that is enough.
Gergana Lazarova-Runkel isn’t one for simple categories.
Gergana Lazarova-Runkel in her atelier at the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center, photo by Boryana Pandova
Gergana Lazarova-Runkel isn’t one for simple categories. In her atelier at the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center, she is reshaping her role as an artist, blurring the line between stage and textile art, with a mix of ambition and grounded humility. Originally trained as a scenographer, Gergana has developed her craft around the visual and emotional impact of live storytelling. With a Bachelor’s in Scenography and a Master’s in Digital Arts, her work has crossed over from traditional theater into digital projection, staging productions like Arabian Night at Sfumato Theater Workshop and Under the Yoke – 1894 at Gabrovo Drama Theater. Yet in her stay at the Center, she’s finding herself pulled toward something closer to home – literally and figuratively: textile art.
Drawn to tufting, Gergana describes the process of working with fabric as “grounding,” a way to reconnect with the physicality of her craft and the history embedded in the walls of the former textile school. She speaks about this new direction as if it’s both a rebellion against, and a continuation of, her theatrical roots. “Working with textile offers a calm presence,” she says. The result is something intimate and tactile, a deliberate shift away from the monumental visuals of her scenographic work.
Gergana Lazarova-Runkel presenting decor prototype, personal archive
Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s influence is here in spirit, if not in form. Gergana admires their fearless approach, their way of transforming the public space with such bold gestures. “What they accomplished was incredibly brave,” she says, a sentiment she holds close even as her own work stays more introspective. Yet, the weight of self-doubt lingers. “I’m still caught up in how my work will be seen,” she admits, a vulnerable edge that keeps her tied to the present and its messiness, rather than soaring to monumental heights.
Life at the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center has been a journey of discovery, offering both freedom and moments of introspection. While the community is vibrant in bursts, the shared direction among artists feels like an evolving work in progress. “There’s room to grow here,” Gergana reflects, her words carrying a tone of optimism rather than critique. For her, genuine collaboration feels tantalizingly close, and the potential is undeniable. Despite the challenges, she believes the Center provides a unique and supportive environment for artists to explore and thrive.
Gergana Lazarova-Runkel’s work isn’t about polish or presentation. It’s about discovery, about rooting through the layers of fabric and memory, and piecing together something that feels honest and raw. Her art asks questions instead of delivering easy answers. Blending her theater experience with this newfound textile practice, Gergana is crafting something both beautiful and uneasy, the kind of art that’s grounded not only in skill but in the willingness to show what lies beneath. It’s a reflection of an artist finding her way, step by vulnerable step, in a world where honesty often takes a back seat to spectacle.
For an intertwined artistic community: hosting Ivelina Ivanova (BrumBur)
The Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center, following the artistic duo’s inspiring legacy of creation through vast public engagement, aims to build an intertwined artistic community to foster within it’s premises, turning this primarily tribute space into a dynamic, living platform for contemporary art production. The center currently hosts 7 artists, each connected by heart or practice with the values and work ethic of Christo and Jeanne-Claude, exploring creative possibilities and the resources of the former Textile Technical School of Gabrovo.
Interviewing Iva in her atelier at the Center, photo by Ilina Peneva
Ivelina Ivanova ’s path into the world of embroidery is anything but conventional, though it is deeply rooted in the craftsmanship of her family. Describing herself as a “craftswoman,” she brings an individual approach to the craft, blending tradition with contemporary aesthetics. Her journey began long before her formal training at the Textile Technical School, which she completed in 2001. Growing up in a household where her parents ran a small embroidery business, Iva was immersed in the depths of her craft from an early age. Her mother, a trained embroiderer, guided her through the art of handcrafting with a sewing machine, an essential tool she still uses today. “I am self-taught in many ways,” Iva reflects, yet her work is always intentional, deeply personal, and rich in history.
The transformation from a family-run business to Iva’s solo enterprise was not without challenges. After the sudden loss of her father during her university years, Iva and her mother faced financial and administrative struggles that ultimately led to the closure of their family business. However, the seeds of creativity were already planted. After raising her two children, Iva’s desire to return to her roots in embroidery grew stronger. In 2017, she registered as a freelance designer, and her creative practice began to take shape.
Iva showing a recent comission, photo by Ilina Peneva
Iva’s work today is a reflection of her dual commitment to preserving traditional techniques while questioning the consumption-driven demands of modern fashion. Her embroidery is deeply connected to the idea of reusing and recycling materials, contributing to a slower, more mindful approach to creation. She explains, “Every material I work with—be it fabric or denim—is an opportunity to give something old a new life.” Her platform, which she refers to as “BrumBur” (a name inspired by the sound of the sewing machine and sometimes the one in her head), is a space where discarded materials are transformed into heartfelt, handcrafted products, including accessories, personalised items, clothes and bags.
Second-hand materials from Iva’s collection, photo by Ilina Peneva
“I believe in circularity, in making less but creating more meaningful things,” she says, underscoring her commitment to sustainability in her practice. Her materials often come from second-hand donations or discarded textiles, which she then imbues with new meaning through intricate embroidery. This process is more than just technical; it is a way of engraving personal memories into the fabric, transforming the old into something that tells a new story.
As an artist having an atelier at the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center, Iva is continuously inspired by the history of the building itself. The Center, once a textile school, has reawakened a sense of connection for her. “Walking these halls again, where I once studied, is not about nostalgia, but a reminder of the life that once filled these spaces,” she says. Her experience in the Center has allowed her to delve deeper into her practice, exploring the intersection of tradition, memory, and sustainability.
A shot from Iva’s work table, photo by Ilina Peneva
Iva’s journey is a testament to the power of art in reinterpreting the past while creating something timeless. Through her work, she continues to honor the legacy of craft while embracing the possibilities of contemporary practice. At her atelier in the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center, she finds not only a space for creative experimentation but also a community that supports and encourages the evolution of her work. As Iva looks toward the future, she sees her practice continuing to evolve, with a commitment to producing work that speaks to the importance of sustainability and the preservation of craft in an increasingly disposable world.
Through embroidery, Iva reimagines the possibilities of forgotten textiles, turning them into objects that are both beautiful and meaningful—offering new life to materials that might otherwise be discarded. Her story is a reminder that art is not just about creating for the sake of creation, but about transforming what already exists into something new and full of purpose.
Nevena Ekimova is among the first Gabrovo-based artists with a studio at the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center
📷 Boryana Pandova
The author presented two monumental installations in the courtyard of the former textile school, part of the project Тrash to Treasure, even before the building was transformed into an art center.
She defines herself as a creator who loves to experiment and create objects of varying scales. She seizes projects through which she always learns something new, she says, and we would confirm that each time she chooses increasingly challenging tasks on the edge of time and resources, surprising both her surroundings and possibly herself. We are having a conversation with her in her old studio, a few days after the opening of three exhibitions featuring her work within one week.
She shares that from a young age, she was surrounded by women engaged in clothing production and can’t remember when еxactly she learned to sew. She loves working with textiles, and she says it comes naturally to her. She admits to being a passionate collector of fake furs and uses them to create a tactile and visual sensation. She often works with waste materials. Her artworks include a huge creature with an unclear shape between an amoeba and a bear, created from bottle caps, adhesive tape, and car wash brushes, which climbed onto a column in the courtyard of the Center Christo and Jean-Claude in 2021. When it appeared there, the building was still the former Textile Technical School (with ambitions for more). She is also the author of the GardenTown exhibition at the Museum of Humor and Satire—a scaled-down model of a city that children can change (just like real cities, where adults seem to have forgotten they can make an impact and thus mostly grumble). She also designed and executed the mythical but nonexistent (before 2020) Mirror Hall at the Museum of Humor. It was mythical because thousands of visitors were convinced they had entered it before and were very upset that it no longer existed, as is often the case in Bulgaria when something nice exists – it gets demolished. And it (the hall) simply never existed before Nevena. Still, it’s wonderful that this riddle of collective memory was erased with a leap into the rabbit hole (and quite a bit of courage).
Nevena completed her secondary education at the Aprilov High School and later enrolled in Scandinavian Studies in Sofia. She received a scholarship that allowed her to study “Liberal Arts” in Sweden and Norway (sounds like a major created especially for her), where she met incredible teachers and became an artist.
Upon her return to Gabrovo, she dreamed for years of a place with large spaces to accommodate her outrageously ambitious projects and vast quantities of materials she tends to collect. When she learned that the former Textile School building would become an art center, she turned out to be the most active artist in organizing studios and transforming the old dusty classrooms and workshops there. She remembers how as a child she looked at newspapers and magazines with works by Christo with eyes full of admiration, and she herself wrapped everyday objects and observed the transformation of the artwork with curiosity.
She sees the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Center as a place accessible to both artists and art enthusiasts. The studio she now occupies will finally match the scale of her work. She envisions the center as a vibrant space where various cultural and creative activities take place, in which everyone can participate. Such a place is needed not only for today’s artists but also for future generations who will have the opportunity to unleash their imagination and creative skills. Described in this way, the Center sounds exactly like the place for her.
