Izabela Radosevici

- Romania -

Izabela Radosevici (b. 1999, Caransebeș) resides in TImișoara, where she graduated from the Faculty of Mathematics and Computer Science at the West University of TImișoara in 2021. Since 2023, she has been a member of the Helion Club, where she debuted with short prose in its print and online magazine, and took part in the Eurocon Konflict convention.

She also joined the Pavel Dan Literary Circle in 2023. Her poetry has appeared in the Conexini and Carapacea de Aur anthologies, as well as the literary magazines Orizont and Arca. Through the Pavel Dan Literary Circle, she has given public readings in several Romanian cities (Timișoara, Cluj, Lugoj, Arad) and at festivals including the Dorel Sibii at Săvârșin and the Young Writers’ Literature Festival (Romanian Writers’ Union) at Neptun.

In 2025, she published her debut poetry collection, Atelier de reparații umane (Tracus Arte).

 

In Izabela Radosevici’s poems, motifs, snapshots, images, and reflections pulse vividly—of a reality recognizable in the immediacy of everyday life, but also of an inner realm, at times tangential to a familial space of quasi-rural origin. The result, ultimately, is a fusion: a scriptural mélange with impactful effects and reverberations, conveyed through suggestions and allusions that transcend the prosaic pretext and the concrete, existential context.

 

At times, the discourse slips into a mildly phantasmatic zone, tempered by confessional/biographical tones, at the intersection of a bygone world with elements and messages that unfold the increasingly aggressive intrusion of late-era technology/technologies.

 

Just a few random samples: “the taste of the rainbow // from a puddle of gasoline”; “a fly licking the eye of the dead dog // the cocktail of electric serotonin // fissions the defensive mechanism // migratory birds seal the rupture in the sky //”; “the scooter abandoned by the desert road”; “the comfort station // at the edge of the landfill” or: “suffering is not an exclusively human experience // it trembles // from all the screws the gaskets the rivets the cables the logic gates the bits //” etc., etc.

 

Perhaps from here also arises the need to articulate an ars poetica, faintly depressive, decoding in a few fragments of verse a definition of her own poetry: “a cocktail of sadness” or: “a fragment of the self // left suspended in the inner universe.”

 

Atelier de reparații umane proposes, within the space of contemporary young lyric poetry, not merely a new name among many others, but above all a debut—one I would call more than promising—under the auspices of authentic poetry.

 

By virtue of these premises, the future evolution and poetic trajectory of Izabela Radosevici deserve to be followed with the utmost attention.

 

Eugen Bunaru, back cover of Atelier de reparații umane, 2025, Tracus Arte