Romana Ana

Teller of Symbolic Stories

I tell stories from other, unknown worlds. They’re far from perfect, but they often carry something that stirs a forgotten string within us. You might find a hint hidden in them. A key, perhaps. Something you quietly carry back into your everyday reality.

I’m fascinated by doors, gates, and passageways. They seem to be waiting—inviting you in, yet daring you to step through. For me, they symbolize change, transition, and the courage to step into the unknown. This motif appears throughout my work, most prominently in my debut novel Symbolion and City Without Stars. The red doors here are no ordinary entrance. They’re a portal between two dimensions—between the world of the City and the parallel realm of Symbolion, a place full of mysteries where the rules are different and the true meaning of things is yet to be discovered.

Crossing between worlds is even easier in my upcoming fantasy for children, The Magical Gift and the Secret of the Tree Guardians. A little witch lives partly in the World of Magic and partly in the World of Humans. And all it takes is drawing a door on the wall with chalk, whispering a spell—and poof! You’re somewhere else entirely.

Everything I create flows from my meditations, visions, and lucid dreams. They are like inner maps—guiding me to deeper perception, to understanding hidden connections, and to accepting the things I cannot change. They give me the strength to carry on. To interpret the symbols, I use a technique called Symbolic Therapy of Vision (STV), which accompanied me throughout the writing of Symbolion. If you’re curious how the novel was born, why I wrote it, and what happened along the way—you can read about it [here].

I’m a Multipotentialite

When I write, I see images. When I draw, I hear words. And when I blend the two, the world suddenly seems to fall into place—just as it should.

Multipotentiality isn’t a strategy. It’s simply who I am. I love drawing and painting, writing, symbols, structures, and discovering patterns between things that at first glance have nothing in common.

Years ago, my sister and I founded a studio called New Factory, where I taught drawing using the right hemisphere of the brain. I was fascinated by how simple techniques could unlock a deep creative flow. I don’t teach anymore, but creating is still like breathing to me—absolutely essential.

I’ve sketched several scenes from Symbolion, and I’m looking forward to creating original illustrations and what I call visual experiments. This layering and combining is my heart’s technique—I can explore new forms of expression without worrying about how it’s “supposed” to look. I mix media, follow my intuition, and let my inner images find their way out—rule-free, template-free, but full of freedom and joy.

I keep a visual journal—a place where words, symbols, thoughts, and emotions intertwine. I let them grow into images and watch as they begin to speak to each other. I start intuitively, slide into meditation… and then record, assemble, connect.

Bringing the unconnectable together is my key. In art and in life. Because some things only make sense once we dare to see them differently.

I Search for Life Through the Lens of a Camera

Black-and-white photography has a completely different atmosphere from color. To me, it holds a certain depth—like the essence of things quietly rising to the surface. I love its dreamlike, veiled quality.

Hybrid photography, on the other hand, gives me space to highlight intention and show the world from a different perspective. Sometimes I just wander through the streets or nature, taking photos of whatever catches my eye. I look for light and composition to create a mood.

Not every photo works—sometimes I have to destroy everything and start again. Without atmosphere, there’s no life. Or at least not the kind of life we recognize. But if you manage to capture atmosphere, everything you create comes alive. I believe that’s the true goal of all creation—and one I keep chasing, with varying success.

This Is Also Me

I love autumn mists, thunderstorms, waterfalls, David Lynch, David Bowie, and panna cotta. (Ideally all at once—a misty waterfall with a Bowie soundtrack and dessert at the end. 😊)

I have a soft spot for people with perspective, humor, and the ability to laugh at themselves. (Especially when their coffee overflows… or they spill it on themselves right before a big meeting. That takes real Zen.)

Luckily, that describes my partner, family, and closest friends perfectly—they’re the kind of people with whom I can be tender, slightly disheveled, and occasionally confused. Honestly, I need people like that around me. I’m a perpetually searching, slightly scatterbrained soul. And coffee accidents? Not once a year—more like once a week. 😊

I love discovering new things and finding inspiration in them. Maybe even more than discovering new people. But I’m learning—slowly and in my own way—to open up and not hide behind excuses. I’m incredibly grateful to have people in my life who pull me out into the world. Because when I do take that step, I find it’s actually wonderful to belong—to have someone around you to confide in, laugh with, or create something together and see the world through new eyes.

People are endlessly inspiring. I love entertaining them with my stories (and I’ve got a few!), but most of all—I love listening. I’m a good listener and genuinely curious about what others do and what story they carry inside.

I’m a morning bird—I write best early in the day, when the world is still deciding whether it wants that first cup of coffee. But I prefer to paint at night, when everything goes quiet.

And when I create, I need my little rituals: tea and ginger biscuits while painting (usually more biscuits than paint), and coffee and a cigarette while writing. (Yes, I know it’s not exactly a wellness lifestyle—but it’s my truth.)

Thanks for stopping by—and feel free to come again. Maybe with some fog, coffee, or cookies. 😊🍀