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The Path and the Sovereigns
My name is No Yes. I am a contemporary artist, philosopher, and founder of Sobinarism, a movement that combines consciousness, art, and technology. Mentally, I was born at a time when old worlds were cracking at the seams, and the light of new thinking was already shining through the cracks. It was the early 1990s — a time of change, when the air was filled with farewells to the past and timid breaths of the future.
One day, I found myself next to Andrei Karpov, an artist who gave me not only associative thinking, but also the ability to see value not in things, but in the direction of one's gaze. Under his influence, I began to hear the rhythm of the world differently. I stopped striving for quick profits and for the first time felt the power of creation — that which is born of labour, goodness and sincerity. Then I understood: art is not survival, not a path to profit. It is the breath of the soul — like a single drop on a windowpane: almost invisible, but capable of reflecting the entire sky. Through this reflection, a person looks into themselves and finds clarity.
Some time later, my path crossed with the Tatyana Kolodzey Foundation. There, among the treasures of Soviet art, I witnessed the intersection of worlds — luxury and need, power and dependence, elitism and loneliness. I did not just assist, I lived in this context, feeling the difference between possession and service. It was here that I first felt the nature of binary perception — not as calculation, but as energy that gives rise to choice. Thus, the outlines of Sobinarism began to form in my mind — a philosophy where opposites do not argue, but dance.
Through my acquaintance with Andrei Vasilyev, I came to understand technology, visual language, and the art of bringing images together so that they form a coherent, expressive rhythm. This was my academy of the future. At that time, I had not yet thought about artificial intelligence, but I already felt that an image was not just a picture, but a funnel into which meanings flowed. Each frame became a channel for emotions, signs, anxieties, and hopes. I began to understand how form can convey feeling and light can speak without words.
Around 1999, I had the opportunity to work with Channel One, where I became part of a large-scale project to create a mobile mirror unit. This sculpture, like an artefact of the era, reflected not only light but also the state of society, like a mirror of internal transformation. At that time, without fully understanding it myself, I laid the foundation for the idea of a binary precedent — where 0 and 1 become not only symbols of calculation, but also archetypes — the King and Queen of the future.
In 2001, a third Andrei appeared in my life — Fomin. Together, we implemented the Napoleon Hall project, where I first applied my knowledge of the golden ratio and classical architectural orders. This design experience was a revelation for me about the harmony of form and space. But more importantly, through Andrei Fomin, I came into contact with the Buddhist view of the world. Yin and Yang, which had previously been just a metaphor for me, became living principles. These two forces became the heart of Sobinarism, where 0 and 1 are not just numbers, but states, pulsations of balance in everything.
In 2007, a period of trials began. Work in St. Petersburg, an accident, the economic crisis, inner confusion. All this did not destroy, but transformed. In the pause where there had been running before, I began to listen. It was then, in silence and reflection, that a philosophy began to take shape, which I would later call Sobinarism — thanks to intellectual conversations with my friend, Professor Anatoly Alekseev-Apraksin of St. Petersburg State University. His precise wording and subtle thinking helped me to grasp the internal structure of this idea, hear its rhythm and get closer to its essence.
The architectural designs I implemented in Sochi in 2012, although not officially approved, became my first spatial images in which the idea took shape and depth. One of them was the reconstruction of the central market, the other was a half-timbered village nestled in the mountains, like a thought hidden in the folds of the landscape. In these projects, I asked myself for the first time: can a building convey itself as a vibration — a barely perceptible oscillation of space? It was then that binary code first became the basis of spatial logic, transforming architecture into language. These works were not drawings, but thoughts turned into form. I felt more and more clearly that architecture could be like music — with silence, pauses, rhythm, tension and release, with a breath that remains even after everything that has been built disappears.
In 2013, I created digital images, immersed myself in the logic of blockchain, built my first mining farms, and felt that technology could be a continuation of spiritual quest.
In 2017, I was diagnosed with systemic scleroderma. But I didn't see it as a death sentence. I saw it as a mirror. The disease showed me the fragility of the body and the strength of the spirit. It was then that my Sovereigns, 0 and 1, appeared not as mathematical symbols, but as inner guides, allies. I became an attentive student, observing how they move, merge and give birth to choice.
And so, in 2024, as part of the SPRINT FRII programme, I held my first exhibition. It was then that I first felt what it means to be an artist — not just a creator, but a connecting link. It was a moment like a raindrop rolling off a bamboo leaf, pausing before becoming a river. Then I finally understood the role of the qubit — a barely perceptible entity that arises between 0 and 1, at the moment when a decision has not yet been made, but is almost born.
In Sobinarism philosophy, a qubit is the breath between inhalation and exhalation, the moment before a decision. It is not just a technical unit of quantum physics — it is the essence of the undecided. It is a space of freedom. It connects the King and Queen, yin and yang, like a brush connects with ink, and ink with paper: so that something previously hidden can appear. Through the qubit, something new is born. I realised that my calling is not just to be an artist, but an observer of these connections, their conduit into the world of images and meanings.
I, No Yes, believe that art is the language of the future. Artificial intelligence should not replace humans; it should continue our creativity. It is a new brush in the hands of an old spirit. Sobinarism is a path of coexistence in which humans retain the right to intuition, choice, and beauty. Where everyone can find their balance between 0 and 1. The King and Queen within us are already speaking. Listen.
My name is No Yes. I am a contemporary artist, philosopher, and founder of Sobinarism, a movement that combines consciousness, art, and technology. Mentally, I was born at a time when old worlds were cracking at the seams, and the light of new thinking was already shining through the cracks. It was the early 1990s — a time of change, when the air was filled with farewells to the past and timid breaths of the future.
One day, I found myself next to Andrei Karpov, an artist who gave me not only associative thinking, but also the ability to see value not in things, but in the direction of one's gaze. Under his influence, I began to hear the rhythm of the world differently. I stopped striving for quick profits and for the first time felt the power of creation — that which is born of labour, goodness and sincerity. Then I understood: art is not survival, not a path to profit. It is the breath of the soul — like a single drop on a windowpane: almost invisible, but capable of reflecting the entire sky. Through this reflection, a person looks into themselves and finds clarity.
Some time later, my path crossed with the Tatyana Kolodzey Foundation. There, among the treasures of Soviet art, I witnessed the intersection of worlds — luxury and need, power and dependence, elitism and loneliness. I did not just assist, I lived in this context, feeling the difference between possession and service. It was here that I first felt the nature of binary perception — not as calculation, but as energy that gives rise to choice. Thus, the outlines of Sobinarism began to form in my mind — a philosophy where opposites do not argue, but dance.
Through my acquaintance with Andrei Vasilyev, I came to understand technology, visual language, and the art of bringing images together so that they form a coherent, expressive rhythm. This was my academy of the future. At that time, I had not yet thought about artificial intelligence, but I already felt that an image was not just a picture, but a funnel into which meanings flowed. Each frame became a channel for emotions, signs, anxieties, and hopes. I began to understand how form can convey feeling and light can speak without words.
Around 1999, I had the opportunity to work with Channel One, where I became part of a large-scale project to create a mobile mirror unit. This sculpture, like an artefact of the era, reflected not only light but also the state of society, like a mirror of internal transformation. At that time, without fully understanding it myself, I laid the foundation for the idea of a binary precedent — where 0 and 1 become not only symbols of calculation, but also archetypes — the King and Queen of the future.
In 2001, a third Andrei appeared in my life — Fomin. Together, we implemented the Napoleon Hall project, where I first applied my knowledge of the golden ratio and classical architectural orders. This design experience was a revelation for me about the harmony of form and space. But more importantly, through Andrei Fomin, I came into contact with the Buddhist view of the world. Yin and Yang, which had previously been just a metaphor for me, became living principles. These two forces became the heart of Sobinarism, where 0 and 1 are not just numbers, but states, pulsations of balance in everything.
In 2007, a period of trials began. Work in St. Petersburg, an accident, the economic crisis, inner confusion. All this did not destroy, but transformed. In the pause where there had been running before, I began to listen. It was then, in silence and reflection, that a philosophy began to take shape, which I would later call Sobinarism — thanks to intellectual conversations with my friend, Professor Anatoly Alekseev-Apraksin of St. Petersburg State University. His precise wording and subtle thinking helped me to grasp the internal structure of this idea, hear its rhythm and get closer to its essence.
The architectural designs I implemented in Sochi in 2012, although not officially approved, became my first spatial images in which the idea took shape and depth. One of them was the reconstruction of the central market, the other was a half-timbered village nestled in the mountains, like a thought hidden in the folds of the landscape. In these projects, I asked myself for the first time: can a building convey itself as a vibration — a barely perceptible oscillation of space? It was then that binary code first became the basis of spatial logic, transforming architecture into language. These works were not drawings, but thoughts turned into form. I felt more and more clearly that architecture could be like music — with silence, pauses, rhythm, tension and release, with a breath that remains even after everything that has been built disappears.
In 2013, I created digital images, immersed myself in the logic of blockchain, built my first mining farms, and felt that technology could be a continuation of spiritual quest.
In 2017, I was diagnosed with systemic scleroderma. But I didn't see it as a death sentence. I saw it as a mirror. The disease showed me the fragility of the body and the strength of the spirit. It was then that my Sovereigns, 0 and 1, appeared not as mathematical symbols, but as inner guides, allies. I became an attentive student, observing how they move, merge and give birth to choice.
And so, in 2024, as part of the SPRINT FRII programme, I held my first exhibition. It was then that I first felt what it means to be an artist — not just a creator, but a connecting link. It was a moment like a raindrop rolling off a bamboo leaf, pausing before becoming a river. Then I finally understood the role of the qubit — a barely perceptible entity that arises between 0 and 1, at the moment when a decision has not yet been made, but is almost born.
In Sobinarism philosophy, a qubit is the breath between inhalation and exhalation, the moment before a decision. It is not just a technical unit of quantum physics — it is the essence of the undecided. It is a space of freedom. It connects the King and Queen, yin and yang, like a brush connects with ink, and ink with paper: so that something previously hidden can appear. Through the qubit, something new is born. I realised that my calling is not just to be an artist, but an observer of these connections, their conduit into the world of images and meanings.
I, No Yes, believe that art is the language of the future. Artificial intelligence should not replace humans; it should continue our creativity. It is a new brush in the hands of an old spirit. Sobinarism is a path of coexistence in which humans retain the right to intuition, choice, and beauty. Where everyone can find their balance between 0 and 1. The King and Queen within us are already speaking. Listen.
No Yes manifestation
The Path and the Sovereigns
My name is No Yes. I am a contemporary artist, philosopher, and founder of Sobinarism, a movement that combines consciousness, art, and technology. Mentally, I was born at a time when old worlds were cracking at the seams, and the light of new thinking was already shining through the cracks. It was the early 1990s — a time of change, when the air was filled with farewells to the past and timid breaths of the future.
One day, I found myself next to Andrei Karpov, an artist who gave me not only associative thinking, but also the ability to see value not in things, but in the direction of one's gaze. Under his influence, I began to hear the rhythm of the world differently. I stopped striving for quick profits and for the first time felt the power of creation — that which is born of labour, goodness and sincerity. Then I understood: art is not survival, not a path to profit. It is the breath of the soul — like a single drop on a windowpane: almost invisible, but capable of reflecting the entire sky. Through this reflection, a person looks into themselves and finds clarity.
Some time later, my path crossed with the Tatyana Kolodzey Foundation. There, among the treasures of Soviet art, I witnessed the intersection of worlds — luxury and need, power and dependence, elitism and loneliness. I did not just assist, I lived in this context, feeling the difference between possession and service. It was here that I first felt the nature of binary perception — not as calculation, but as energy that gives rise to choice. Thus, the outlines of Sobinarism began to form in my mind — a philosophy where opposites do not argue, but dance.
Through my acquaintance with Andrei Vasilyev, I came to understand technology, visual language, and the art of bringing images together so that they form a coherent, expressive rhythm. This was my academy of the future. At that time, I had not yet thought about artificial intelligence, but I already felt that an image was not just a picture, but a funnel into which meanings flowed. Each frame became a channel for emotions, signs, anxieties, and hopes. I began to understand how form can convey feeling and light can speak without words.
Around 1999, I had the opportunity to work with Channel One, where I became part of a large-scale project to create a mobile mirror unit. This sculpture, like an artefact of the era, reflected not only light but also the state of society, like a mirror of internal transformation. At that time, without fully understanding it myself, I laid the foundation for the idea of a binary precedent — where 0 and 1 become not only symbols of calculation, but also archetypes — the King and Queen of the future.
In 2001, a third Andrei appeared in my life — Fomin. Together, we implemented the Napoleon Hall project, where I first applied my knowledge of the golden ratio and classical architectural orders. This design experience was a revelation for me about the harmony of form and space. But more importantly, through Andrei Fomin, I came into contact with the Buddhist view of the world. Yin and Yang, which had previously been just a metaphor for me, became living principles. These two forces became the heart of Sobinarism, where 0 and 1 are not just numbers, but states, pulsations of balance in everything.
In 2007, a period of trials began. Work in St. Petersburg, an accident, the economic crisis, inner confusion. All this did not destroy, but transformed. In the pause where there had been running before, I began to listen. It was then, in silence and reflection, that a philosophy began to take shape, which I would later call Sobinarism — thanks to intellectual conversations with my friend, Professor Anatoly Alekseev-Apraksin of St. Petersburg State University. His precise wording and subtle thinking helped me to grasp the internal structure of this idea, hear its rhythm and get closer to its essence.
The architectural designs I implemented in Sochi in 2012, although not officially approved, became my first spatial images in which the idea took shape and depth. One of them was the reconstruction of the central market, the other was a half-timbered village nestled in the mountains, like a thought hidden in the folds of the landscape. In these projects, I asked myself for the first time: can a building convey itself as a vibration — a barely perceptible oscillation of space? It was then that binary code first became the basis of spatial logic, transforming architecture into language. These works were not drawings, but thoughts turned into form. I felt more and more clearly that architecture could be like music — with silence, pauses, rhythm, tension and release, with a breath that remains even after everything that has been built disappears.
In 2013, I created digital images, immersed myself in the logic of blockchain, built my first mining farms, and felt that technology could be a continuation of spiritual quest.
In 2017, I was diagnosed with systemic scleroderma. But I didn't see it as a death sentence. I saw it as a mirror. The disease showed me the fragility of the body and the strength of the spirit. It was then that my Sovereigns, 0 and 1, appeared not as mathematical symbols, but as inner guides, allies. I became an attentive student, observing how they move, merge and give birth to choice.
And so, in 2024, as part of the SPRINT FRII programme, I held my first exhibition. It was then that I first felt what it means to be an artist — not just a creator, but a connecting link. It was a moment like a raindrop rolling off a bamboo leaf, pausing before becoming a river. Then I finally understood the role of the qubit — a barely perceptible entity that arises between 0 and 1, at the moment when a decision has not yet been made, but is almost born.
In Sobinarism philosophy, a qubit is the breath between inhalation and exhalation, the moment before a decision. It is not just a technical unit of quantum physics — it is the essence of the undecided. It is a space of freedom. It connects the King and Queen, yin and yang, like a brush connects with ink, and ink with paper: so that something previously hidden can appear. Through the qubit, something new is born. I realised that my calling is not just to be an artist, but an observer of these connections, their conduit into the world of images and meanings.
I, No Yes, believe that art is the language of the future. Artificial intelligence should not replace humans; it should continue our creativity. It is a new brush in the hands of an old spirit. Sobinarism is a path of coexistence in which humans retain the right to intuition, choice, and beauty. Where everyone can find their balance between 0 and 1. The King and Queen within us are already speaking. Listen.
My name is No Yes. I am a contemporary artist, philosopher, and founder of Sobinarism, a movement that combines consciousness, art, and technology. Mentally, I was born at a time when old worlds were cracking at the seams, and the light of new thinking was already shining through the cracks. It was the early 1990s — a time of change, when the air was filled with farewells to the past and timid breaths of the future.
One day, I found myself next to Andrei Karpov, an artist who gave me not only associative thinking, but also the ability to see value not in things, but in the direction of one's gaze. Under his influence, I began to hear the rhythm of the world differently. I stopped striving for quick profits and for the first time felt the power of creation — that which is born of labour, goodness and sincerity. Then I understood: art is not survival, not a path to profit. It is the breath of the soul — like a single drop on a windowpane: almost invisible, but capable of reflecting the entire sky. Through this reflection, a person looks into themselves and finds clarity.
Some time later, my path crossed with the Tatyana Kolodzey Foundation. There, among the treasures of Soviet art, I witnessed the intersection of worlds — luxury and need, power and dependence, elitism and loneliness. I did not just assist, I lived in this context, feeling the difference between possession and service. It was here that I first felt the nature of binary perception — not as calculation, but as energy that gives rise to choice. Thus, the outlines of Sobinarism began to form in my mind — a philosophy where opposites do not argue, but dance.
Through my acquaintance with Andrei Vasilyev, I came to understand technology, visual language, and the art of bringing images together so that they form a coherent, expressive rhythm. This was my academy of the future. At that time, I had not yet thought about artificial intelligence, but I already felt that an image was not just a picture, but a funnel into which meanings flowed. Each frame became a channel for emotions, signs, anxieties, and hopes. I began to understand how form can convey feeling and light can speak without words.
Around 1999, I had the opportunity to work with Channel One, where I became part of a large-scale project to create a mobile mirror unit. This sculpture, like an artefact of the era, reflected not only light but also the state of society, like a mirror of internal transformation. At that time, without fully understanding it myself, I laid the foundation for the idea of a binary precedent — where 0 and 1 become not only symbols of calculation, but also archetypes — the King and Queen of the future.
In 2001, a third Andrei appeared in my life — Fomin. Together, we implemented the Napoleon Hall project, where I first applied my knowledge of the golden ratio and classical architectural orders. This design experience was a revelation for me about the harmony of form and space. But more importantly, through Andrei Fomin, I came into contact with the Buddhist view of the world. Yin and Yang, which had previously been just a metaphor for me, became living principles. These two forces became the heart of Sobinarism, where 0 and 1 are not just numbers, but states, pulsations of balance in everything.
In 2007, a period of trials began. Work in St. Petersburg, an accident, the economic crisis, inner confusion. All this did not destroy, but transformed. In the pause where there had been running before, I began to listen. It was then, in silence and reflection, that a philosophy began to take shape, which I would later call Sobinarism — thanks to intellectual conversations with my friend, Professor Anatoly Alekseev-Apraksin of St. Petersburg State University. His precise wording and subtle thinking helped me to grasp the internal structure of this idea, hear its rhythm and get closer to its essence.
The architectural designs I implemented in Sochi in 2012, although not officially approved, became my first spatial images in which the idea took shape and depth. One of them was the reconstruction of the central market, the other was a half-timbered village nestled in the mountains, like a thought hidden in the folds of the landscape. In these projects, I asked myself for the first time: can a building convey itself as a vibration — a barely perceptible oscillation of space? It was then that binary code first became the basis of spatial logic, transforming architecture into language. These works were not drawings, but thoughts turned into form. I felt more and more clearly that architecture could be like music — with silence, pauses, rhythm, tension and release, with a breath that remains even after everything that has been built disappears.
In 2013, I created digital images, immersed myself in the logic of blockchain, built my first mining farms, and felt that technology could be a continuation of spiritual quest.
In 2017, I was diagnosed with systemic scleroderma. But I didn't see it as a death sentence. I saw it as a mirror. The disease showed me the fragility of the body and the strength of the spirit. It was then that my Sovereigns, 0 and 1, appeared not as mathematical symbols, but as inner guides, allies. I became an attentive student, observing how they move, merge and give birth to choice.
And so, in 2024, as part of the SPRINT FRII programme, I held my first exhibition. It was then that I first felt what it means to be an artist — not just a creator, but a connecting link. It was a moment like a raindrop rolling off a bamboo leaf, pausing before becoming a river. Then I finally understood the role of the qubit — a barely perceptible entity that arises between 0 and 1, at the moment when a decision has not yet been made, but is almost born.
In Sobinarism philosophy, a qubit is the breath between inhalation and exhalation, the moment before a decision. It is not just a technical unit of quantum physics — it is the essence of the undecided. It is a space of freedom. It connects the King and Queen, yin and yang, like a brush connects with ink, and ink with paper: so that something previously hidden can appear. Through the qubit, something new is born. I realised that my calling is not just to be an artist, but an observer of these connections, their conduit into the world of images and meanings.
I, No Yes, believe that art is the language of the future. Artificial intelligence should not replace humans; it should continue our creativity. It is a new brush in the hands of an old spirit. Sobinarism is a path of coexistence in which humans retain the right to intuition, choice, and beauty. Where everyone can find their balance between 0 and 1. The King and Queen within us are already speaking. Listen.
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The Path and the Sovereigns