I often catch myself thinking about people whose coordinates were set in another dimension. Not a different country, but a different era. Families who still joke in Latin, whose surname outweighs all the social-media followers in the world. We call that structure Old Money, its roots sunk deep in Protestant and Lutheran discipline. A path walked for at least three generations can form its backbone.
I’m not Old Money, and I never will be. Yet the longer I live here in sun-soaked Miami, the more I tune in to that quiet rhythm echoing across centuries.
That rhythm is steady, resilient—like a road map that doesn’t dead-end after the next block but stretches on for generations. They live without logos, without sudden moves, without needing to explain. The goal is not to show, but to preserve. They don’t snap up mansions for spectacle; they inherit the family house, complete with library, books, and portraits of ancestors. Every object stays put. Not fashion—memory.
For years I couldn’t pinpoint what makes them so calm, so assured, so unhurried. Then it clicked: they’re not trying to “become” anyone. They’re not on a quest to find themselves or their purpose. Their task is simply not to break what was built before them. The surname is a profession; time is their most valuable asset. Henry Armitage, grandson of a coal baron, once said, “We don’t wear logos because they’re a plea to be noticed. We don’t need that.” Exactly: confidence without noise, power without performance. Old Money doesn’t chase a career—they curate a biography, investing in long arcs: land, education, children. As Anatoly Lunacharsky quipped, “To be a truly cultured person you need three university degrees: one your grandfather earned, one your father earned, and one you earn.”
In The House of Rothschild, Nathan Rothschild never competed with other bankers—he wrote the rules. That family never entertained the idea of “every man for himself”; every profit cycled back into the system as fuel for the next step. Even marriages were strategic, kept within the clan to safeguard capital and culture. Read their story and you realize it isn’t about wealth and excess; it’s about a mindset where your business, your home, your children are all threads in a single fabric. You’re just a link—not the star, but the transmitter who keeps the line intact. That’s quietly mesmerizing.
Of course, I’m not from their world. I’m first-generation. No coat of arms, no centuries-old ledger, no capital from a great-grandmother. Still, I’ve begun to wonder: why shouldn’t those of us from ordinary families become the founders of systems that, a hundred years from now, someone might call a tradition? We don’t need to be Old Money. We can be the first layer of our own family systems—habits, rituals, libraries, education—that future generations will honor.
And maybe that matters even more.
— Natalia Shvetsova
I’m not Old Money, and I never will be. Yet the longer I live here in sun-soaked Miami, the more I tune in to that quiet rhythm echoing across centuries.
That rhythm is steady, resilient—like a road map that doesn’t dead-end after the next block but stretches on for generations. They live without logos, without sudden moves, without needing to explain. The goal is not to show, but to preserve. They don’t snap up mansions for spectacle; they inherit the family house, complete with library, books, and portraits of ancestors. Every object stays put. Not fashion—memory.
For years I couldn’t pinpoint what makes them so calm, so assured, so unhurried. Then it clicked: they’re not trying to “become” anyone. They’re not on a quest to find themselves or their purpose. Their task is simply not to break what was built before them. The surname is a profession; time is their most valuable asset. Henry Armitage, grandson of a coal baron, once said, “We don’t wear logos because they’re a plea to be noticed. We don’t need that.” Exactly: confidence without noise, power without performance. Old Money doesn’t chase a career—they curate a biography, investing in long arcs: land, education, children. As Anatoly Lunacharsky quipped, “To be a truly cultured person you need three university degrees: one your grandfather earned, one your father earned, and one you earn.”
In The House of Rothschild, Nathan Rothschild never competed with other bankers—he wrote the rules. That family never entertained the idea of “every man for himself”; every profit cycled back into the system as fuel for the next step. Even marriages were strategic, kept within the clan to safeguard capital and culture. Read their story and you realize it isn’t about wealth and excess; it’s about a mindset where your business, your home, your children are all threads in a single fabric. You’re just a link—not the star, but the transmitter who keeps the line intact. That’s quietly mesmerizing.
Of course, I’m not from their world. I’m first-generation. No coat of arms, no centuries-old ledger, no capital from a great-grandmother. Still, I’ve begun to wonder: why shouldn’t those of us from ordinary families become the founders of systems that, a hundred years from now, someone might call a tradition? We don’t need to be Old Money. We can be the first layer of our own family systems—habits, rituals, libraries, education—that future generations will honor.
And maybe that matters even more.
— Natalia Shvetsova
The Art of Being a Woman in Business
“A successful woman is a thrilling phenomenon, and a thrilling phenomenon is a successful woman.”
Lana Mikhay
In this piece, I set out to explore two deeply stirring subjects: women and their success in business, treating them as expressions of modern art. I play with metaphors and rhythm not to instruct, but to inspire—or, at the very least, to make you smile. If I manage to do either, that in itself is a shared success. Every word here is for you—a kind of support letter, handwritten in metaphor. Let us begin a beautiful, thrilling journey toward success, because this very path, I believe, is a form of contemporary art.
Today we are flooded with articles, books, courses, and workshops aimed at women. The abundance is dazzling—and disorienting. It's easy to lose our way in this torrent of information, which often breeds confusion rather than clarity. The most difficult part of being a woman in business today is navigating this oversaturation.
A successful woman is like contemporary art: thrilling, yes, but also full of energy, pulses, and waves. Her presence resonates, or it doesn't. I've seen many talented women, upon entering a relationship, begin to dissolve. They disappear into domestic routine, into a suffocating everydayness that steals their drive and dims their light. The ones who climb back up, who remember who they truly are—those women embody the essence of modern success. That rediscovery of self, that reclaiming of voice, is a work of art in itself.
Stop worrying about whether people like you. Or better yet, stop worrying whether your partner approves of your ambition, your business, your growth. Yes, it’s hard. But it’s also a revolutionary act—an act of self-return. As Gary Loveman, CEO of Caesar’s, once said, “If you want someone to love you unconditionally, get a dog.”
I got two dogs. It helps. Though honestly, I sometimes suspect they don’t like me either. But that’s my problem. And thankfully, humor gets me back on track.
These are no longer the days when a woman’s main purpose was to provide comfort. Of course, it wasn’t always that way in every home. But in many, it was. Today, being a wife doesn’t mean sacrificing your fire. Success doesn’t have to disrupt your marriage. And if that idea unsettles you—pause. Begin, immediately, to reclaim yourself.
From the outside, modern art rarely makes sense. It isn’t meant to. The more you explore it, the more you begin to see, understand, accept. Treat yourself the same way. You are a unique ART object. Stop expecting universal approval. Everyone has their own taste. The only agreement you need is with yourself.
This is where things become “plaincredible”—plain yet extraordinary. And only a woman will understand that invented word and smile, recognizing her own thoughts in it.
Our culture has given us so many tools, so many open doors. The only sin now is not walking through them. Apply your knowledge. Use it. Move toward your own definition of success. My beautiful, thrilling women—I call on you to wake up. Your time is now.
Success is the overcoming of naivety about yourself. Stir yourself—not from worry, but from the energy of waves. Let it be the wave of your own rise.
Are you the canvas, or the artist? You choose. Either way, you were created to be a thrilling ART object in this universe.
Think about it: we react more strongly to people we know. When you connect with an idea, it starts showing up everywhere. Don’t rush. Art always requires time—for perception, for immersion. Give yourself that time. But don’t take forever.
“A successful businesswoman is a unique, thrilling ART masterpiece of our modern world.”
Lana Mikhay
And here's the point: not every object is created with a lofty goal. Not every artist dares to speak of big ideas. That’s why art is so varied. That’s why we have different forms, narratives, and approaches. Pay attention to details, to slips of the tongue, to nuance. Generations of women fought for this moment—for independence, for the right to succeed.
A successful woman in business is not only privileged today—she often dominates. She is no longer an exception; she is a force.
Success, like art, is a disruption. A rewriting of reality. A shift. In this new world, old standards dissolve. What once defined us no longer applies. That is the truth of all great art: it doesn’t ask for understanding—it demands recognition.
A successful woman is a thrilling phenomenon. Let her be. And better yet: become her.
Lana Mikhay, 2025
“A successful woman is a thrilling phenomenon, and a thrilling phenomenon is a successful woman.”
Lana Mikhay
In this piece, I set out to explore two deeply stirring subjects: women and their success in business, treating them as expressions of modern art. I play with metaphors and rhythm not to instruct, but to inspire—or, at the very least, to make you smile. If I manage to do either, that in itself is a shared success. Every word here is for you—a kind of support letter, handwritten in metaphor. Let us begin a beautiful, thrilling journey toward success, because this very path, I believe, is a form of contemporary art.
Today we are flooded with articles, books, courses, and workshops aimed at women. The abundance is dazzling—and disorienting. It's easy to lose our way in this torrent of information, which often breeds confusion rather than clarity. The most difficult part of being a woman in business today is navigating this oversaturation.
A successful woman is like contemporary art: thrilling, yes, but also full of energy, pulses, and waves. Her presence resonates, or it doesn't. I've seen many talented women, upon entering a relationship, begin to dissolve. They disappear into domestic routine, into a suffocating everydayness that steals their drive and dims their light. The ones who climb back up, who remember who they truly are—those women embody the essence of modern success. That rediscovery of self, that reclaiming of voice, is a work of art in itself.
Stop worrying about whether people like you. Or better yet, stop worrying whether your partner approves of your ambition, your business, your growth. Yes, it’s hard. But it’s also a revolutionary act—an act of self-return. As Gary Loveman, CEO of Caesar’s, once said, “If you want someone to love you unconditionally, get a dog.”
I got two dogs. It helps. Though honestly, I sometimes suspect they don’t like me either. But that’s my problem. And thankfully, humor gets me back on track.
These are no longer the days when a woman’s main purpose was to provide comfort. Of course, it wasn’t always that way in every home. But in many, it was. Today, being a wife doesn’t mean sacrificing your fire. Success doesn’t have to disrupt your marriage. And if that idea unsettles you—pause. Begin, immediately, to reclaim yourself.
From the outside, modern art rarely makes sense. It isn’t meant to. The more you explore it, the more you begin to see, understand, accept. Treat yourself the same way. You are a unique ART object. Stop expecting universal approval. Everyone has their own taste. The only agreement you need is with yourself.
This is where things become “plaincredible”—plain yet extraordinary. And only a woman will understand that invented word and smile, recognizing her own thoughts in it.
Our culture has given us so many tools, so many open doors. The only sin now is not walking through them. Apply your knowledge. Use it. Move toward your own definition of success. My beautiful, thrilling women—I call on you to wake up. Your time is now.
Success is the overcoming of naivety about yourself. Stir yourself—not from worry, but from the energy of waves. Let it be the wave of your own rise.
Are you the canvas, or the artist? You choose. Either way, you were created to be a thrilling ART object in this universe.
Think about it: we react more strongly to people we know. When you connect with an idea, it starts showing up everywhere. Don’t rush. Art always requires time—for perception, for immersion. Give yourself that time. But don’t take forever.
“A successful businesswoman is a unique, thrilling ART masterpiece of our modern world.”
Lana Mikhay
And here's the point: not every object is created with a lofty goal. Not every artist dares to speak of big ideas. That’s why art is so varied. That’s why we have different forms, narratives, and approaches. Pay attention to details, to slips of the tongue, to nuance. Generations of women fought for this moment—for independence, for the right to succeed.
A successful woman in business is not only privileged today—she often dominates. She is no longer an exception; she is a force.
Success, like art, is a disruption. A rewriting of reality. A shift. In this new world, old standards dissolve. What once defined us no longer applies. That is the truth of all great art: it doesn’t ask for understanding—it demands recognition.
A successful woman is a thrilling phenomenon. Let her be. And better yet: become her.
Lana Mikhay, 2025
New York–based artist Artem Mirolevich is a storyteller, a visionary, and an observer of
human civilization through myth, humor, and cosmic scale. With work spanning drawing,
collage, and etching, he captures visual narratives layered with detail, symbolism, and
philosophical weight — often with a touch of extraterrestrial curiosity. In this candid
conversation, we discuss his journey, his creative process, and what it means to keep
making art in a world that demands both passion and practicality.
Artem Mirolevich’s work is a rare mix of playfulness, symbolism, and depth. He invites us
into a world both strange and familiar, rich with detail and meaning, humor and hope.
AO: Artem, how did your journey as an artist begin?
AM: It began after a life-changing moment. At 17, I suffered a near-fatal liver injury. When
you come face to face with death, you quickly realize: there’s no time to waste. I asked
myself what I truly wanted to do with my life — and the answer was clear. Drawing was
always my most natural state. It’s not just what I do — it’s who I am. From that moment on,
I knew I’d dedicate myself to making art.
AO: When did you start to feel recognized in the art world?
AM: Honestly, I still don’t feel particularly “recognized.” I’m known in certain Russian-
American circles, sure, but I believe artistic visibility and mastery are both endless pursuits.
That said, a major shift happened around 2012 when I began curating exhibitions. It gave
me new exposure, connected me with galleries and collectors, and deepened my
understanding of the art world.
AO: Tell me about your first exhibition.
AM: It was in 2000, right after graduating from art school in New York. It went surprisingly
well — I sold about a third of the works. That early success gave me the courage to pursue
life as a full-time artist instead of taking the safer path as an illustrator.
AO: How do you manage the business side of art?
AM: It’s not my favorite part, but it’s necessary. As Alexander Ponomarev once told me: “The
main creative, PR guy, and salesman in your life is you.” That stuck with me. Ideally, I’d just
stay in my studio and create, maybe show my work two or three times a year. But today’s
reality requires us to promote and sell. That said, the best fairs are the ones where the work
speaks for itself — and sells.
AO: You split your time between Miami and New York. How do they compare?
AM: Miami is like a magical princess who throws an unforgettable ball once a year — during
Art Basel. New York is a tireless worker — a daily grind, constant, deeply embedded in the
art world. I love both, but New York will always be the true epicenter for serious collectors
AO: How does your family life influence your work?
AM: It keeps me grounded. My wife has been my muse from the very beginning — I was
sketching her within minutes of meeting her. She’s stunning, dignified, and incredibly
supportive. She not only inspires me but helps manage the practical side of things. That kind
of emotional and logistical support is invaluable.
AO: What’s your advice to emerging artists?
AM: Say yes to everything early on: fairs, shows, residencies, competitions — paid or
unpaid. Social media matters too. Ideally, you’ll find a gallery that represents you at fairs.
But if not — come knock on my door. I take on artists commercially, if their work aligns
with our vision.
AO: What about patrons or collectors — do you have anyone like that?
AM: Not one official patron, but several incredible long-term collectors and friends. One of
them, Alexander Rosman, owns over 30 of my works, some of them major. Another is from
the Rothschild family, whose collection includes over 10 of my pieces — one hanging beside
a Rembrandt, another beside a Warhol. I also live in a residency program where I receive
housing in exchange for teaching weekly art classes — it began with me, and now it’s
expanded to 10 artists in 10 buildings. I consider that a form of modern philanthropy.
AO: How would you describe your artistic style?
AM: I’m a storyteller. My paintings are visual narratives — full of detail, mystery, and
metaphor. I explore themes like the “Mothership,” the Tower of Babel, the absurdity and
beauty of modern civilization. You’ll often find alien figures in my work — inspired by a
quote from Boris Grebenshchikov: “Why assume aliens are still coming? Maybe they already
came — and left.” I love that. I play with that idea.
AO: And what about abstract art — is it part of your practice?
AM: Every painting of mine starts as abstraction — chaos, color, structure — but then
evolves into narrative. I’ve never fully embraced abstraction. I find more purpose in telling
visual stories. Still… I once made a series of abstract works, and a collector convinced me to
leave one untouched. Ironically, it ended up being the best piece of the whole series. So yes
— I contradict myself. And I think that’s healthy.
AO: What’s your boldest dream as an artist?
AM: I have many — but one that feels within reach is a solo show at MoMA. I have a concept
I’ve developed over several years and even received a grant to begin working on it. It’s a
large project that would involve other artists — which excites me even more. Another
dream? A museum dedicated to my work. But if nothing else — I’d be happy with a house by
the ocean, where I can live, create, and show my art under one roof. A personal sanctuary…
and maybe a museum on the side. [laughs]
human civilization through myth, humor, and cosmic scale. With work spanning drawing,
collage, and etching, he captures visual narratives layered with detail, symbolism, and
philosophical weight — often with a touch of extraterrestrial curiosity. In this candid
conversation, we discuss his journey, his creative process, and what it means to keep
making art in a world that demands both passion and practicality.
Artem Mirolevich’s work is a rare mix of playfulness, symbolism, and depth. He invites us
into a world both strange and familiar, rich with detail and meaning, humor and hope.
AO: Artem, how did your journey as an artist begin?
AM: It began after a life-changing moment. At 17, I suffered a near-fatal liver injury. When
you come face to face with death, you quickly realize: there’s no time to waste. I asked
myself what I truly wanted to do with my life — and the answer was clear. Drawing was
always my most natural state. It’s not just what I do — it’s who I am. From that moment on,
I knew I’d dedicate myself to making art.
AO: When did you start to feel recognized in the art world?
AM: Honestly, I still don’t feel particularly “recognized.” I’m known in certain Russian-
American circles, sure, but I believe artistic visibility and mastery are both endless pursuits.
That said, a major shift happened around 2012 when I began curating exhibitions. It gave
me new exposure, connected me with galleries and collectors, and deepened my
understanding of the art world.
AO: Tell me about your first exhibition.
AM: It was in 2000, right after graduating from art school in New York. It went surprisingly
well — I sold about a third of the works. That early success gave me the courage to pursue
life as a full-time artist instead of taking the safer path as an illustrator.
AO: How do you manage the business side of art?
AM: It’s not my favorite part, but it’s necessary. As Alexander Ponomarev once told me: “The
main creative, PR guy, and salesman in your life is you.” That stuck with me. Ideally, I’d just
stay in my studio and create, maybe show my work two or three times a year. But today’s
reality requires us to promote and sell. That said, the best fairs are the ones where the work
speaks for itself — and sells.
AO: You split your time between Miami and New York. How do they compare?
AM: Miami is like a magical princess who throws an unforgettable ball once a year — during
Art Basel. New York is a tireless worker — a daily grind, constant, deeply embedded in the
art world. I love both, but New York will always be the true epicenter for serious collectors
AO: How does your family life influence your work?
AM: It keeps me grounded. My wife has been my muse from the very beginning — I was
sketching her within minutes of meeting her. She’s stunning, dignified, and incredibly
supportive. She not only inspires me but helps manage the practical side of things. That kind
of emotional and logistical support is invaluable.
AO: What’s your advice to emerging artists?
AM: Say yes to everything early on: fairs, shows, residencies, competitions — paid or
unpaid. Social media matters too. Ideally, you’ll find a gallery that represents you at fairs.
But if not — come knock on my door. I take on artists commercially, if their work aligns
with our vision.
AO: What about patrons or collectors — do you have anyone like that?
AM: Not one official patron, but several incredible long-term collectors and friends. One of
them, Alexander Rosman, owns over 30 of my works, some of them major. Another is from
the Rothschild family, whose collection includes over 10 of my pieces — one hanging beside
a Rembrandt, another beside a Warhol. I also live in a residency program where I receive
housing in exchange for teaching weekly art classes — it began with me, and now it’s
expanded to 10 artists in 10 buildings. I consider that a form of modern philanthropy.
AO: How would you describe your artistic style?
AM: I’m a storyteller. My paintings are visual narratives — full of detail, mystery, and
metaphor. I explore themes like the “Mothership,” the Tower of Babel, the absurdity and
beauty of modern civilization. You’ll often find alien figures in my work — inspired by a
quote from Boris Grebenshchikov: “Why assume aliens are still coming? Maybe they already
came — and left.” I love that. I play with that idea.
AO: And what about abstract art — is it part of your practice?
AM: Every painting of mine starts as abstraction — chaos, color, structure — but then
evolves into narrative. I’ve never fully embraced abstraction. I find more purpose in telling
visual stories. Still… I once made a series of abstract works, and a collector convinced me to
leave one untouched. Ironically, it ended up being the best piece of the whole series. So yes
— I contradict myself. And I think that’s healthy.
AO: What’s your boldest dream as an artist?
AM: I have many — but one that feels within reach is a solo show at MoMA. I have a concept
I’ve developed over several years and even received a grant to begin working on it. It’s a
large project that would involve other artists — which excites me even more. Another
dream? A museum dedicated to my work. But if nothing else — I’d be happy with a house by
the ocean, where I can live, create, and show my art under one roof. A personal sanctuary…
and maybe a museum on the side. [laughs]
-
Natalia ShvetsovaNatalia is an Economist (MBA), business coach, managing partner of the consulting company "Shvetsova and Partners", author of the program "Ecosystems for small businesses", expert in organizational development, author of books, speaker. Founder of the club CARPE DIEM CLUB & MAGAZINE -
Lana MikhayLana is a journalist with a legal background, a columnist for leading art and fashion publications and a public speaker and interview host. She covers topics such as personal branding, psychology, art & fashion, etiquette, healthy competition, and business networking. She is the main columnist for Larus Gallery and also manages the editorial board of CARPE DIEM CLUB & MAGAZINE -
Anastasia OakeyAnastasia is an art dealer, curator, interior designer and collector based in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. She is the founder of OakeyDoakey.com, a creative platform dedicated to showcasing contemporary art. With a background in international media and cultural programming, Anastasia previously worked with The Art Newspaper Russia, InStyle, and Travel + Leisure, before launching her own art and play studio in the U.S.
