In this episode, I sit down with Ania Tarnowska, known to the world as I Ya Toyah, for a conversation that goes far beyond music. This is not an interview about career highlights or touring stories—this is a deep exploration of why we create, what creativity costs us, and why, for some of us, it is not a choice but a necessity. Ania is a one-woman force: a solo industrial artist, producer, performer, and visual storyteller whose work blends music, film, and raw emotional honesty. She has toured internationally and collaborated with artists like KMFDM, Front Line Assembly, Orgy, and Wednesday 13, but what truly defines her work is not genre or success—it’s authenticity.

From the very beginning of our conversation, it became clear that her creative process is inseparable from her lived experience. We talk about how music, film, and writing bleed into one another—how sound carries emotion, how visuals give music context, and how mistakes made on stage often become breakthroughs in the studio. Ania describes creativity as something she sees and feels simultaneously: songs have color, texture, and narrative long before they are finished. Live performance, she explains, is a shared act—something that cannot exist without the audience, where energy flows back and forth in real time. As Polish immigrants, we also discuss the creative perspective of being outsiders. No matter how well you assimilate, there’s always a part of you standing at the edge, observing the culture you live in. That distance gives artists a different lens—one rooted in vulnerability, awareness, and constant self-reflection. Ania shares how growing up in Łódź, a city steeped in film and theater, shaped her artistic instincts long before she ever left Poland. The conversation becomes deeply personal as Ania opens up about surviving a childhood coma after a car accident, losing years of her life, her music education, and carrying unresolved trauma into adulthood. That pain, she explains, lives inside her work. Songs like “Vast Spaces” and “Pray” were written during moments of profound isolation and psychological darkness, including the pandemic. For her, creativity is not inspiration—it is survival. I reflect on my own experiences as a filmmaker and writer, drawing parallels between creativity and psychotherapy. True art requires courage. It asks us to confront what we would rather keep hidden—our grief, guilt, anger, and fear—and make it visible. Referencing The Courage to Create by Rollo May, we discuss how vulnerability is not a weakness in art, but its foundation. This episode is about carving beauty out of pain, about using creativity to process life rather than escape it. It’s for artists, filmmakers, musicians, writers, and anyone who has ever felt like an outsider trying to make sense of the world through expression. Because for some of us, creativity doesn’t just give life meaning. It keeps us alive.Philip begins with life’s essential questions—Who are we? Why are we here? Where are we going?—and narrows them to one central pursuit: purpose.  According to Philip, purpose is recognizing beauty, not just the pleasant kind, but the raw, painful, and awe-inspiring aspects of life that form the very fabric of the universe.  This he coins as the abyss that a brave artist must confront.

We began by reflecting on what it means to be an artist.  True art is the courage to face the abyss—faith in the unknown—and to bring back something honest to share with others.  Whether through painting, music, writing, or film, art becomes a bridge between the personal and the communal, a vulnerable act of connection that demands honesty, discipline, and bravery.

We then discuss creativity itself.  First, creativity starts with acute observation—seeing beauty in a fallen branch or inspiration in a grimy alley.   Secondly, creativity builds into an almost compulsive need to shape that vision into something tangible. 

The episode closes with reflections on nurturing creativity in everyday life.  Philip argues that everyone is creative as a child, but societal rules often dull that spark.  To rekindle it, we must embrace honesty, risk vulnerability, and even face the darkest parts of ourselves.  Creativity is not a side hobby—it’s inseparable from the integrity of an artist. 

Philip summarizes this concept perfectly by saying, “We are enslaved to the creative process. We have no choice—until we’re tasting dirt.”

One-woman army of industrial darkwave fuses haunting melodies with powerful electronic beats and raw, introspective lyrics. Blending elements of synthpop, metal, rock, and EDM, she creates immersive soundscapes that are both deeply personal and sonically explosive. With the voice that cuts through like a signal in chaos, I Ya Toyah delivers a message of rebellion, mental health awareness, and human connection in a fractured world. DIY to the core, she writes, produces, and performs everything herself-on stage and in the studio-bringing on electrifying energy to every release and live show.

https://www.iyatoyah.com/about