Natalia Millman – interview: ‘I want to talk about grief in an approachable way’

Inviting others to write a letter about their grief, and responding to each with a drawing, was the starting point for Natalia Millman to process her own loss

Natalia Millman. Photo: Stephanie Belton.

by ANNA McNAY

“One often calms one’s grief by recounting it” – Pierre Corneille

When the Ukrainian-born British conceptual artist Natalia Millman lost her father to dementia, she turned to her art practice in an effort to begin processing that loss. Her mixed-media pieces clearly expressed her fear of the ageing process and the stigma surrounding dementia. She explicitly began highlighting the damage that time inflicts on the human body and mind, how it can erase language, memories and basic consciousness. Her sombre abstract paintings illuminated interconnected body parts with fleshy and dark colours, while her videos, installation and 3D works were centred on the fragility of the human brain, memory loss, passing physicality, and spiritual and philosophical issues surrounding the ageing mind. In her attempts to repair, she started collecting broken objects, pieces of bricks and rusty wire, and putting these together to create a new object, giving them a fresh life and function.

When her research informed her that writing a letter to one’s loss – a “grief letter” – could prove helpful, Millman – tentatively at first – put a call out to others to write and share such a letter with her. As the responses poured in, she applied for, and successfully received, Arts Council funding, and, after three years of building up the nerve and emotional stamina, she began reading and responding to the letters.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

This exhibition is the culmination of the project, and it includes an installation made from the original letters and Millman’s drawn responses, along with “full-body drawings”, a meditation, film and performance. The three-week show is also complemented by a full programme of grief- and loss-related workshops, supported by the bereavement charity Cruse.

Studio International met Millman in St Peter’s Church, St Albans, where the exhibition will take place, to hear more about the poignant process and the impact it has had on the artist’s own grief.

Anna McNay: Tell me about Letters to Forever and how the project came about.

Natalia Millman: The idea for this project originated from me not knowing how to process my own grief. I was feeling isolated and was searching for some comfort and connection. I have always incorporated community and awareness-raising about topics such as dementia and mental health in my work, but, in this case, I wanted to reach out to others and connect with them to help myself. The project began with me just asking this very open-ended question and testing the water to see who might be brave enough to write a grief letter. The reason I decided to focus on a letter is because I remember the excitement from when I was young, when we didn’t have any social media, and we would write and receive letters. There was a feeling of excitement when posting a letter, and receiving one in the post was very special. Letters are very personal, and here I’m asking people to share their personal feelings with me, so I wasn’t sure how it would work out. As soon as I started receiving the letters, though, I saw that people were really opening up and wanting to share personal things with me, a stranger. There was a need for them to say something and for me, as a stranger, to bear witness to this.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: How did you put the call out?

NM: It started with my solo exhibition, Vanishing Point, in 2021, where I talked to the visitors who came to see the show, testing the idea of whether they would be interested in writing a grief letter. I connected with some of those who said they would and sent them the information packs in the post, with a blank sheet of paper, some instructions and a return stamp. Then I also put the call out on creative platforms such as CuratorSpace and The Artists’ Information Company a-n and through word of mouth.

AMc: Am I right that you even got a letter from China?

NM: Yes! I don’t know how that one came about, but I guess the information spread. I got lots of messages saying: “Oh, my friend mentioned this, can I take part?” I also created a challenge for 64 Million Artists. I don’t know whether you’re familiar with it, but it’s an international creative platform, and, every January, it runs a daily creative challenge for everyone. It chose mine as one of the challenges – again, it was a call to write a grief letter – and I collected quite a few responses from that.

AMc: How did you know when you had enough letters to make your works in response, or were you making them as the letters came in?

NM: I think when I reached 100, that was when I realised that it was turning into something like a project, and that I had to do something with them and respond somehow. But I couldn’t open a single letter for about three years. I just couldn’t do it. I was scared. I wasn’t ready for it. So, I just collected them, and the pile was growing and growing. When I applied for Arts Council funding, I finally started opening the letters.

AMc: You had to then!

NM: Yes, exactly.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: How did you go about responding to them?

NM: It was very intuitive and instinctive. First, I was curious about each letter. I wanted to imagine what the person writing it was like, and who the letter was written to. What was their relationship? The language told me a lot about that. The words they used, the metaphors, and just the way the sentences were assembled. Then, as an artist, I wanted to create my own response. My instinct was to draw, which is not really the medium I would usually go for, because I predominantly work in 3D and with installations, but I really wanted to draw. It felt a bit like I was writing but not creating words – creating marks. I would read a letter, really connect to the energy the piece of paper was holding, and then respond quickly, picking up the tools that resonated with that particular letter and just drawing. I used my fingers a lot. I really wanted to bring my body in and not use brushes or anything, just to really be with it and to try not to think about what I was making but really immerse myself in the process.

AMc: You can tell by looking at your drawings that it was an embodied process.

NM: Yes. Pulling and pushing, and some lines are quite jagged, very agitated, and other lines are smooth and long and stretched.

AMc: For the exhibition here in St Peter’s Church, you are going to get your wish and turn the letters and your responses into an installation.

NM: Yes. Each letter has been responded to with a drawing, but because there are 215 letters and 215 drawings, I had to go through a selection process and choose just a few that will be pinned around the installation. The letters will be pinned inside the installation, and my drawings will be around the outside, as if they are holding the letters, a container for them.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: There is going to be a performance element as well.

NM: Yes. Again, another challenge for me. I’m really trying to do things that I was scared of in this project. I keep telling myself that this is my chance, and I need to use it. Then, whatever happens, happens. The idea of imperfection, and of me not judging myself too hard, brought the idea of me performing. It’s really not part of my personality to put myself in front of people for them to look at me, and it is not something I naturally enjoy, but I’m doing it because I want to challenge myself and see how it feels, maybe work with this discomfort. Even for the performance, I’m stepping back and saying to myself that I don’t want to perfectly rehearse it. I have an idea of what I’m going do during this one-hour performance, of course, but I don’t really know what I’m going to do. Again, it’s like jumping into dark waters and just being. And seeing what’s going to happen. I think that’s what makes it exciting for me as well.

AMc: You work across multiple mediums. How would you describe your practice more generally?

NM: I’m just an artist who has lots of anxiety and is trying out lots of things. I don’t think I know right now what my perfect medium is. Nor am I confident in my artistic techniques and practices. I’m still learning, exploring and experimenting. After this project, I’m already looking forward to just playing and seeing what happens. But I like natural things. If I have some soil and some sticks, and I can make something out of that, then I’m happy. Most of the time, I don’t know what I’m doing. But I like trying new things, very unexpected things. I often go back into my storage and pull out something that I did a few years ago. And because I have progressed from where I was when I was creating it, it’s like the past me, so I destroy it or burn it or paint over it. Not being static, trying new things and learning – that’s me.

AMc: What is your background and artistic training?

NM: I’m self-taught. I have never had any formal art education. It’s self-developing and joining in, doing some courses, and just educating myself. I come from a creative family. Both my parents are super-creative without really knowing it. I think creativity was part of our daily life; it was just the way we were. I grew up with an appreciation for beautiful things and seeing beauty in small things. That’s what I do now. I think it all came from my parents, because, when we went on walks, I would always admire the sky or the water or the trees.

AMc: How long have you been in the UK?

NM: About 24 years now.

AMc: What brought you here?

NM: What brought me here? Love!

AMc: That’s a good enough reason! You’re running a workshop as part of the exhibition programme specifically for the local Ukrainian community.

NM: Yes. I really wanted to because I’ve got Ukrainian roots. What’s happening there now really affects me, and I felt like I wanted to look at loss and bring in Ukrainian loss as well as to create a space for the Ukrainian community to just be and to learn from each other and get support from each other.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: Who else are you collaborating with on this project?

NM: I’m working with a few collaborators, which is something new for me. I’m partnering with Cruse, which is the biggest bereavement charity in the UK. It has been very supportive, and will be present at the workshops to offer professional support if anyone needs it. And then I have been working with creative collaborators on some of the pieces and facilitators on the workshops. They’re all local practitioners, and I have reached out to them, and we have developed the workshops together.

AMc: You mention Cruse. How are you looking after yourself during this project?

NM: I’m trying my best. I think it’s mostly through doing things that I enjoy. I don’t have any professional support, but I do lots of fun things that switch my mind off. I also “dose” the way I look at grief. For example, I can work on three letters in one session. I know I can’t do more than that because it’s so emotionally draining. So, sport, walks, nature, meditation, yoga – just something to bring me out of that space before I jump back in again.

AMc: Have the people who wrote the letters seen your drawings?

NM: They have, yes. They are co-creators, because, without them, I wouldn’t have this project. I really wanted to keep them close to me and inform them of the whole process. Every couple of months I have sent a newsletter telling them what I have achieved and what I have done with their letters – just keeping them updated on how the project is developing. Some of them are even going to come and see the show.

AMc: Have they given you any feedback on what they think of the drawings?

NM: They have just made more general comments, saying they can’t believe I’m doing it, thank you so much. Lots of good, encouraging words about how it was helpful to them to write a letter, but nothing specifically about the drawings.

Envelopes from grief letters, Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: Did working on this project help you process your own grief?

NM: It did. I think if I hadn’t done this, I would not have been able to look at my own grief. It’s forced me to let my own grief in and to look at others and ask what I would do if I were them. But to also question my own grief and my relationship with my dad. I brought my mom into the project as well, because she’s still struggling with her grief. I invited her to create some pieces with me. We have done a few that will be in the exhibition, where we embroidered together. We have embroidered a textile piece, and we have done a video together as well that will be incorporated into the performance. By gently helping her look at her grief, I’m also helping myself to develop my relationship with my mom, and so this project has been really beneficial, I think, for all of us, and for me especially.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: Tell me about the venue. How did you come across St Peter’s Church?

NM: From the outset, I knew that I did not want a gallery space. I wanted it to be in Hertfordshire. I wanted to be in St Albans, even, so that reduced the options. I also wanted it to be a place which is not just a place; a place which already has some history, some specific energy, and that could maybe be a church. My previous exhibition was in the Crypt [Gallery at St Pancras Church] in Euston, and I loved being there. My work feels good in a church. It’s the right place for my work. I think it’s a very instinctive pull. St Peter’s is perfect. It’s newly refurbished, which is great, because they have changed the flooring and have installed lots of light white marble everywhere. It is refreshing and very light. It’s not a dark church where you feel heavy. It’s a place where, when I walked in, I felt light and hopeful, and that’s why I wanted it here. Besides, the church already plays a role in major life events, such as births, marriages and deaths, and I feel like my work will have a nice dialogue with the venue. I also want people to come into the exhibition and look inwards. Instinctively, when I come into the church, I go inwards. So, I thought that it would be the perfect place.

AMc: There are some practical difficulties, though, such as having to move the installation every Saturday evening ahead of the Sunday service.

NM: Yes. And that is going to be challenging. But it is what it is, because it’s a functioning church. So, on Sunday, I have to accommodate my exhibition to its function. I’m very excited, though. Everyone I have been working with at the venue has been very up for it. I don’t think they have ever had an artist or a similar kind of exhibition in their space. They do have regular concerts and events, but I don’t think they have had any ongoing exhibitions completely taking over the whole space. It’s quite brave on their part.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: Going back to the letters, have you noticed any commonalities between people’s expressions of grief? Do the letters conform to the cycle of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance?

NM: Every letter is different, just as every person is different, and everyone’s grief is different. But there are similarities. Some people sent me letters, some sent poems, some letters are three pages of tiny handwriting, and some are just one sentence. There was one letter which was just a note to me saying that they wrote a letter but couldn’t send it, but they wanted to say thank you to me for giving them this opportunity. Another letter, for example, had burnt edges to symbolise that its author would usually burn such letters. There is a lot of anger in the letters. Anger and guilt. I was also curious to see what words were being used most commonly. I analysed the letters and calculated that most of them contain at least one of four different constructions: “I miss” (121 times), “I wish” (87 times), “I hope” (66 times) and “I am sorry” (54 times). Another thing was that a number of people wrote letters to themselves or their younger selves. And while most letters looked at loss, some of them came back at the end to hope, to what that loss had taught them, and how they are growing from what happened.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

AMc: Tell me about the full-body drawings and the feelings that went into these.

NM: I worked out from my research that grief is a bodily experience, and so I wanted to bring my body into the process of drawing, to emphasise that feeling of grief sitting in my body. I was reading a book recently, The Grieving Body by Mary-Frances O’Connor, an American scientist who looks at how the body is affected by the process of grieving. I was trying to think about my own grief and where I feel it sits. I created these drawings of my body, life-sized drawings, trying to find out how I feel, and to make a map. Do I feel heaviness in my chest? Do I feel heaviness in my throat or in my head? Where is it residing? Lots of people in the letters mention a hole. They use lots of metaphors for grief, but the most common was like a hole. When you lose somebody, it’s like a puncture, like a hole within you. One of the drawings has holes burned in it. What we fill them with after the loss is really important. What are good things that we can fill these holes with? That’s how the body drawings were made. They’re an embodiment of my grief, mapping it on to my body. I have also put together a meditation where I take people on a journey and ask them to visualise where their grief sits within their body. That’s going to be one of the sound pieces. There will be headphones and a chair and it’s 10 minutes long. Then there will be paper and pens on another table where people can write a response about how it was for them and where they felt their grief.

Natalia Millman, Letters to Forever, 2025, installation view, St Peter's Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, 6-28 August 2025. Photo: Rob Harris.

I’m trying to make the exhibition as interactive as possible. I really want to involve people. I want to talk about grief in an approachable way. It’s not very uplifting to talk about grief, but if we don’t talk about it, then it’s going to be worse. By showing our vulnerability, we can connect more. If I share my story of loss, it helps you to open up yourself. It’s something that we’re all going to experience, because whatever we love, we will lose eventually.

• Letters to Forever is at St Peter’s Church, St Albans, Hertfordshire, until 28 August 2025. It is accompanied by a full programme of workshops and events.