We continue our series of stories about projects supported by ArtPower Belarus with funding from the European Union.
Before his arrest, Aliaksei Sialenka combined his work in architecture with his passion for music. He performed with Belarusian bands, taught music, and, together with friends, developed their own recording studio in Minsk. After his imprisonment, he lost almost everything he had spent years building: his band, the studio, his instruments, and the opportunity to play regularly.
After his release, Aliaksei found himself in Lithuania and had to redefine what he wanted to do and how he could return to his profession. Support under Track 3: Projects in exceptional circumstances helped him purchase a drum kit, rebuild his playing technique after a two-year break, and begin preparing a programme of street performances.
We spoke with musician Aliaksei Sialenka about how music can restore a sense of freedom, why street performance can become a “direct injection of culture”, and how a single grant can help someone stay in their profession after prison.
Music that started at fourteen
Aliaksei started playing drums at the age of fourteen, and for many years music existed alongside his main profession — architecture. Both provided him with an income and were equally important parts of his life.
“By the time I was arrested, I had a very good band, and we had some exciting prospects ahead of us. We were making music that we genuinely liked, we had bought a studio, had good equipment, helped other musicians with their recordings, and were ready to perform. But after my arrest, all of that, of course, came to an end,” Aliaksei says.
During his imprisonment, Aliaksei was unable to play for two years for the first time in his entire adult life.
“I had never had a break like that before. When you do not touch your instrument for two years, it has a huge impact on your technique. You basically have to teach yourself all over again.”
To be free, but unable to return home
After his release, Aliaksei found himself in Lithuania. Along with freedom came the need to start his life over.
“In Belarus, everything was familiar and clear. I had an apartment, a family, a job, music, a studio — everything was organised and close at hand. Suddenly, here, I had to choose: work in my professional field or try to stay in music. And at the same time, you have no idea whether you will be able to make a living from it at all in another country.”
At first, he decided to combine the two paths again: he found a job in architecture while simultaneously looking for opportunities to return to music. Gradually, however, creativity began to take up an increasingly important place in his life once again.
“I am thinking more and more seriously about moving into music full-time. It is a difficult decision because, after emigrating, you do not always know how relevant the skills you had before will be here. But now I can already see that real life is beginning for me in the music scene.”
Returning to street performance
The idea for the project grew out of Aliaksei’s experience in Minsk. For several years, he took part in “Pieshakhodka”, a series of street events in Minsk’s Upper Town where musicians, dancers and other performers would take to the streets simultaneously on Saturdays.
“Part of the city would literally turn into a festival. In a relatively small area, around ten bands could be playing at the same time: some had bigger stages, others smaller ones; there were solo performers in one place and dancers somewhere else. And this did not happen once a year, it happened every week.”
It was there that Aliaksei came to love street performance for its immediacy and direct contact with people.
“It was one of the most vivid experiences of my life in music. On the street, you are not playing for people who have bought tickets in advance and already decided that they want to listen to you. You simply start playing, and people stay because they are genuinely interested. They change their plans, stop, listen, start dancing. There is a great deal of sincerity in that.”
After moving to Lithuania, he wanted to recreate this format in Vilnius and later perform in other European cities as well.
“I came to a simple conclusion: a good and free city is a city where people can dance in the streets. I saw a small mission for myself in that: to make freedom a little more visible and vibrant.”
Drums as the first step back
Aliaksei learned about the opportunity to apply to ArtPower Belarus after leaving Belarus. People who arrived in Lithuania after their release were supported by mentors who helped them with legalisation, adaptation, and finding support programmes.
“I had heard something about ArtPower Belarus while I was still in Belarus. Once I was in Lithuania, we were told about various programmes. But essentially, this was the only one I actually decided to apply to. I already had a very clear plan of what I wanted to do.”
Support under Track 3 enabled him to purchase a drum kit and the necessary equipment. This made it possible for him to return to regular rehearsals and begin preparing his programme.
“Without this support, I cannot imagine how any of this would have been possible. After a two-year break, I needed a place and an instrument simply to get myself back into shape. Now I have the opportunity to practise, perform, and be part of the music scene again.”
Together with a Lithuanian musician, Aliaksei also began renting a small studio. There, he rehearses, works on his playing technique, and meets local musicians.
When the original plan has to change
For Aliaksei, street performance is not simply a way of performing without a concert venue. It is a form of direct interaction with the city.
“I call it a direct injection of culture. There is this flow of people simply going about their business, and you break into it with something live. Not through social media, not through advertising, but simply here and now. And there is always a response.”
It was through these performances that Aliaksei made most of his new connections in Vilnius.
“About ninety per cent of the people I know locally came into my life this way. People would approach me after a performance, ask who I was, follow me on Instagram, and message me later. That is how I met both Lithuanian and Ukrainian musicians. It was also through street performances that I was invited to join a new band.”
In this way, the project became not only a way of returning to his instrument, but also a means of social and professional integration in a new country.
Music as a way to stay in the profession
ArtPower Belarus Track 3 works with cultural professionals who have found themselves in exceptional circumstances: following repression, imprisonment, forced migration, or other crisis situations.
“One of the hardest things after being released is figuring out what to do next. You do not know whether the skills that were valuable back home are needed in a new country. When support appears in the field of music, I see it as a sign: perhaps this really is my path, and I should keep pursuing it.”
According to Aliaksei, grant support is particularly important for creative people who have ideas and professional skills but lack the resources to get started.
“We often have this idea that you should not take anything from anyone, that you have to do everything entirely on your own, slowly saving up the money. In Minsk, that is exactly how we created our studio: three people invested their own money in it. But not everyone has that opportunity. If someone has the desire to create something but does not have the resources, giving them that opportunity is how support for culture should work.”
From street performances to his own school
Street performances are only the first stage in Aliaksei’s plans. He wants to return to teaching and establish a drum school in Vilnius.
He already has experience in this field: in Minsk, he taught both children and adults, including at a music school.
“I see school as the most natural next step. I especially enjoyed working with children. I would like to create a place where Belarusian and Ukrainian children who have also found themselves in emigration could come.”
Aliaksei is also considering offering free classes to children during their first months, if he can secure support for this.
“It would be a form of support not only for the children, but for their parents as well. People have left their countries, and children need to integrate, find something to do, find a community. It would be really beautiful to be able to say: here is a Belarusian initiative helping Belarusian children — come, learn, play.”
In the longer term, he is also considering working with professional bands and developing a musical equipment rental service. But it is the school that remains, for him, the main and most “honest” path towards a new professional future.
An idea that deserves a chance
Aliaksei says he wrote his grant application in just a few hours, without lengthy deliberation or complicated preparation.
“I simply had an idea, and I described it in one go. If a grant is designed for music, theatre, or other creative projects, and that is exactly the kind of project you want to create, you should think: perhaps this opportunity was created for you.”
He advises other creatives not to see applying for a grant as a guarantee of success, but also not to turn down the opportunity simply because they are afraid of rejection.
“A grant is not about whether you will succeed or not. If the support is intended for the kind of work you genuinely do, you simply need to present your idea clearly. Perhaps you are the very person this opportunity was created for.”
