Nadia Setter creates breathtaking mythical worlds where animals, symbolism, and emotion intertwine. Through hyper-realistic pastel drawings filled with winged horses, ancient creatures, and dreamlike atmospheres, her work feels both deeply personal and timeless — as though each piece carries a story pulled from mythology, memory, and the subconscious. Originally from Saint Petersburg and now based in the United States, Setter's artistic voice was shaped by a lifelong fascination with mythology, classical art, and horses. What makes her art so captivating is the balance between technical precision and emotional depth — her creatures feel powerful yet vulnerable, magical yet believable.
1. What do you love most about creating and experiencing art?
The whole process feels like magic, and I mean that with complete sincerity. It begins with a spark. A creature arrives in my mind as if it has always existed somewhere and simply chose me to find it. Then comes this sacred time of nurturing that vision, thinking about what shape it will take, what it wants to say, what other objects it is surrounded by.
And then when my pencil touches the paper, layer by layer, something that lived only in another dimension begins to breathe in this one. That moment when a creature emerges from the ground and looks back at me for the first time — that is when I feel it most. Like a wizard who opened a portal just wide enough to pull something ancient and alive through to our world.
What I love most is that I get to be the bridge between the invisible and the seen, between a message that is seeking to be delivered through the language of art to the specific person who needed to receive it today.
And then when my pencil touches the paper, layer by layer, something that lived only in another dimension begins to breathe in this one. That moment when a creature emerges from the ground and looks back at me for the first time — that is when I feel it most. Like a wizard who opened a portal just wide enough to pull something ancient and alive through to our world.
What I love most is that I get to be the bridge between the invisible and the seen, between a message that is seeking to be delivered through the language of art to the specific person who needed to receive it today.
2. How do you feel when you work on your pieces? Is it a meditative or emotional experience for you, or do you see it more as a creative outlet?
It is rather intimate and feels somewhat close to regression. When I work, I need complete silence: no background noise, just me and the easel in front of me. I don't feel that stillness as emptiness — on the contrary, it pulls me deeper and deeper into my own mind, and what surfaces surprises me every time. Forgotten memories, unresolved feelings, or even surprisingly clear solutions to long deferred questions: all hidden, all connected to the theme I am exploring on paper.
It is almost like the creature I am drawing becomes a mirror. The more detail I pour into it, the more it reflects something back at me that I did not know I was ready to look at.
So, I would say it is less of a creative outlet and more of a reflection. Something close to a regression therapy session, where my pencils take me somewhere words alone could never reach.
It is almost like the creature I am drawing becomes a mirror. The more detail I pour into it, the more it reflects something back at me that I did not know I was ready to look at.
So, I would say it is less of a creative outlet and more of a reflection. Something close to a regression therapy session, where my pencils take me somewhere words alone could never reach.
3. Which artist is your biggest inspiration?
I truly believe artists are inspired by life as a whole — visual arts, performing arts, literature, nature, the history of different cultures, or simply a reaction to what is happening in the world right now. Inspiration has no single source, and I think the most interesting work happens at the intersection of all of it.
But if I have to name one living artist who stands out to me, it is Guillermo Garcia Lorca. What moves me about his work is how he places animals as carriers of psychological and mythological symbolism — primal instincts, hidden fears, and the complex nature of human emotion — all wrapped inside dreamlike, surreal landscapes painted with extraordinary technical precision. He works with the same territory I am drawn to: the threshold where ancient symbolism meets raw human feeling, where beauty and something slightly dangerous coexist in the same breath.
But if I have to name one living artist who stands out to me, it is Guillermo Garcia Lorca. What moves me about his work is how he places animals as carriers of psychological and mythological symbolism — primal instincts, hidden fears, and the complex nature of human emotion — all wrapped inside dreamlike, surreal landscapes painted with extraordinary technical precision. He works with the same territory I am drawn to: the threshold where ancient symbolism meets raw human feeling, where beauty and something slightly dangerous coexist in the same breath.
4. Most of your beautiful work is focused on mystical animal scenes. Why did that become your favorite thing to paint?
I grew up in Saint Petersburg, Russia — a city that feels like it exists slightly outside of ordinary reality. The architecture, the canals, the long white nights — everything there has a quality of myth already woven into it. And at the center of it all for me was the Hermitage Museum. It was my cultural lullaby. I grew up walking those halls, surrounded by centuries of symbolism, mythological narratives, and creatures that carried the weight of entire civilizations on their wings and shoulders.
I always loved horses. One day my auntie brought me in front of Rubens' 'Perseus and Andromeda' and something shifted in me. There in the corner of that painting was Pegasus — and it felt like perfection. A horse with wings! I had never seen anything like it, and I could not look away.
From that moment I went deep into Greek mythology, and a whole world opened up. I discovered that every creature carried a symbolic background full of meanings that felt strangely personal. When these visions returned in adulthood, I finally had the language and the skill to bring them through.
I always loved horses. One day my auntie brought me in front of Rubens' 'Perseus and Andromeda' and something shifted in me. There in the corner of that painting was Pegasus — and it felt like perfection. A horse with wings! I had never seen anything like it, and I could not look away.
From that moment I went deep into Greek mythology, and a whole world opened up. I discovered that every creature carried a symbolic background full of meanings that felt strangely personal. When these visions returned in adulthood, I finally had the language and the skill to bring them through.
5. I noticed that you have created several hyper-realistic horse images that are simply breathtaking. What is it about horses that fascinates you so much?
There is something that stops me every time I truly look at a horse — this impossible contradiction of an enormous, breathtaking power locked inside the most fragile legs. That architectural paradox alone could occupy me for a lifetime as an artist.
But what truly captivates me goes deeper than the visual. Horses develop a genuine emotional connection with their rider — they synchronize their heartbeat to the person they trust. I have experienced that firsthand. I am a rider myself, and I had a horse who could read my thoughts before I gave him any cue. No shift of weight, no signal — he simply knew. That kind of silent, wordless communication between two living beings is something I have never found anywhere else. And when I give them wings, it is the most honest thing I can say about what horses have always meant to me. In my imagination, they always carried something divine.
But what truly captivates me goes deeper than the visual. Horses develop a genuine emotional connection with their rider — they synchronize their heartbeat to the person they trust. I have experienced that firsthand. I am a rider myself, and I had a horse who could read my thoughts before I gave him any cue. No shift of weight, no signal — he simply knew. That kind of silent, wordless communication between two living beings is something I have never found anywhere else. And when I give them wings, it is the most honest thing I can say about what horses have always meant to me. In my imagination, they always carried something divine.
6. Give us a glimpse into your process. How long does it take from the first idea to the finished project? What are the steps you have to take?
Drawing with pastel pencils demands patience above everything else. It is all about building thin, deliberate layers on top of each other, each one adding depth, texture, and life. But before any of that beauty emerges, every piece goes through what I call the ugly stage. The first sessions are just color blocking — creating a raw skeleton of what the piece will eventually become. It looks nothing like the final work and honestly, it can feel discouraging.
I won't pretend I am always patient during that stage. Sometimes the gap between what I can see in my mind and what is sitting in front of me on the surface feels enormous. But I have learned to trust the process. A single piece can take weeks.
I won't pretend I am always patient during that stage. Sometimes the gap between what I can see in my mind and what is sitting in front of me on the surface feels enormous. But I have learned to trust the process. A single piece can take weeks.
7. Tell us about your background and upbringing. Where did you grow up? Where are you now? When and how did you find your way to the artist life?
I grew up in Saint Petersburg — a city that raises you on beauty and mythology whether you ask for it or not. But there is another chapter. One that shaped me in ways I did not see coming. After moving to the United States I spent two years living and volunteering at a large horse rescue ranch in rural San Diego County. I had always been a city girl — Saint Petersburg, a career in sales and marketing, business trips, fashion, museums, and nightlife. My life had a certain rhythm: fast, ambitious, always forward.
And suddenly I was waking up in a wooden cabin at the edge of wilderness, stepping outside in the early morning to find a whole herd grazing in that transparent cold haze, right at my door. That kind of morning does something to you. It recalibrates everything.
Ranch work is immediate and humbling. You feed, you clean, you groom, you repair. And somewhere in that simplicity — distracted enough from the constant race, and finally slow enough to be present — my mind started to breathe differently. I groomed horses thousands of times, and through that intimate, repetitive closeness I built an almost intuitive knowledge of their anatomy. You cannot learn that from a reference photo. It lives in my hands before it ever reaches the pencil. I came to that ranch as an animal artist who loved horses and left as someone who understood them from the inside.
And suddenly I was waking up in a wooden cabin at the edge of wilderness, stepping outside in the early morning to find a whole herd grazing in that transparent cold haze, right at my door. That kind of morning does something to you. It recalibrates everything.
Ranch work is immediate and humbling. You feed, you clean, you groom, you repair. And somewhere in that simplicity — distracted enough from the constant race, and finally slow enough to be present — my mind started to breathe differently. I groomed horses thousands of times, and through that intimate, repetitive closeness I built an almost intuitive knowledge of their anatomy. You cannot learn that from a reference photo. It lives in my hands before it ever reaches the pencil. I came to that ranch as an animal artist who loved horses and left as someone who understood them from the inside.
8. If you had to choose, which of your paintings is your favorite and why?
'Rising Phoenix.' I cannot judge this one, because I am too close to it.
This is Red. A tall chestnut thoroughbred I met at the horse rescue ranch in San Diego. He had spent years pulling wagons on a racetrack until he became lame on all four of his legs. By the time he arrived at the rescue he was days away from being put down. He healed completely. I still find that hard to believe, but he did.
Red had a reputation. He was picky about his riders and would simply refuse to collaborate during lessons, and nobody could quite figure him out. But somewhere along the way he decided I was different. We rode together almost every day along the most picturesque trails, and he was the most responsive, reliable mount I have ever known. That particular kind of trust — the one that has to be earned from an animal who has every reason not to give it — is not something you forget.
I did not have to think about the concept of his portrait for long. I could see a phoenix erupting from his mane on windy days, in that exact shade of fire and copper of his coat. I just had to let it out. Red was supposed to die. Instead, he gently carried me through trails and taught me things about trust and character I had no words for yet. Thankfully, I could express it in the form of art.
This is Red. A tall chestnut thoroughbred I met at the horse rescue ranch in San Diego. He had spent years pulling wagons on a racetrack until he became lame on all four of his legs. By the time he arrived at the rescue he was days away from being put down. He healed completely. I still find that hard to believe, but he did.
Red had a reputation. He was picky about his riders and would simply refuse to collaborate during lessons, and nobody could quite figure him out. But somewhere along the way he decided I was different. We rode together almost every day along the most picturesque trails, and he was the most responsive, reliable mount I have ever known. That particular kind of trust — the one that has to be earned from an animal who has every reason not to give it — is not something you forget.
I did not have to think about the concept of his portrait for long. I could see a phoenix erupting from his mane on windy days, in that exact shade of fire and copper of his coat. I just had to let it out. Red was supposed to die. Instead, he gently carried me through trails and taught me things about trust and character I had no words for yet. Thankfully, I could express it in the form of art.
9. I had the pleasure of meeting you and experiencing your work in person at The Other Art Fair in Los Angeles. How was that experience for you, and do you have any other art fairs coming up?
The Other Art Fair was a multi-sensory experience. Being surrounded by such a variety of artists — each with their own distinct visual language and their own way of seeing — was genuinely overwhelming in the best sense. I absorbed so much just by being present in that space. It sparked a different kind of inspiration than anything you find online. It stayed with me for weeks afterward and even found its way into my own work. I am absolutely hoping to return for the next The Other Art Fair Los Angeles edition.
10. What are your plans for the future?
I am deep into a new series that I am genuinely excited about. Four pieces. Four mythological creatures, each assigned to one of the classical elements of nature — fire, water, earth, and air. Each one is a guardian of its element, each carrying its own symbolic weight and story.
The first piece is already complete. The Hippocampus — guardian of water. Drawn in white pencil on anthraquinone blue canvas, illuminated by a single ray of light breaking through from above, as if the deep ocean itself decided to reveal a secret it had been keeping for centuries.
Three more creatures are waiting. I am not ready to say more than that. But the series is coming, and it is the most cohesive, ambitious world I have built so far.
The first piece is already complete. The Hippocampus — guardian of water. Drawn in white pencil on anthraquinone blue canvas, illuminated by a single ray of light breaking through from above, as if the deep ocean itself decided to reveal a secret it had been keeping for centuries.
Three more creatures are waiting. I am not ready to say more than that. But the series is coming, and it is the most cohesive, ambitious world I have built so far.
Follow Nadia on Instagram at @nadia.setter and visit her website at nadiasetter.com