Creativity is like a muscle—you have to constantly train it. Interdisciplinarity, especially when it touches on gastronomy, technology, or other fields, only liberates creative thinking further. When architectural projects need inspiration, I turn to experiences in restaurants or museums. There, I transform spaces, stage scenographies on the table, and express concepts through breakfast and dinner menus.

In the winter of 2023, I turned the construction site of a future restaurant into a forest: 40 tall fir trees, fog, a 12-meter table with crescent moons, and electronic arrangements of Vivaldi and Peer Gynt created a monumental woodland atmosphere. Guests tasted a 7-course forest menu—from acorn butter to pheasant and forest anthill.

In the summer of 2024, we transformed the newly opened restaurant into a garden: a chirping soundtrack, cauliflower compositions, and garden projections onto a two-meter brass sun. Guests enjoyed a 7-course garden dinner—plucking radish bouquets from plates like from a flowerbed, grilling lamb kebabs on cherry branches, and, after cooling off in a cold pond for dessert, gathering for a “potato digger.”

In the winter of 2024, the two-meter brass panel continued to act as a portal—this time through lunar projections. To the sound of Yann Tiersen’s music, we explored the laws of the moon on plates. Dishes were prepared at extreme temperatures—–173°C and +127°C—just like on the lunar surface.

In the spring of 2025, we invited guests to breakfast at the museum. To give meaning to the unique Fairy Tale exhibition at the Kaunas Picture Gallery, we created a nostalgic breakfast menu based on personal and collective memory. It was probably the only time in history when not only eating, but also licking the plates in a museum was allowed. Preparing a five-course breakfast without even a sink was monumental, scenographic, nostalgic—and unforgettable.