Gallery

Not every sunset in the lagoon is so vivid, but there are evenings when the sky ignites with a dramatic, fire-like, and sudden color. I used a palette knife to capture that moment since a brush is too slow to catch that distinctive blaze.

Sometimes you grow tired of the busyness of colors and long for something monochrome. You grow tired of sharp lines and want something less defined. The colors of the painting reflect the colors of the vague and ambiguous feelings behind it. Sometimes you want to guess rather than to know, to sense rather than to see, to whisper rather than to shout.

Frankly speaking, I planned to paint a man at first. However, as I worked, my mood shifted. I found myself wanting (and painting) something more feminine, delicate, transparent, almost watercolor-like, even slightly unfinished. And so, quite unexpectedly, the man turned into a woman.

The inspiration for this work came from an image by one of my favorite photographers, Steve McCurry. How lucky painters are compared to photographers; we can discard what feels unnecessary from a painting, add whatever we want, rearrange, embellish, emphasize, imagine…
I allowed myself quite a free interpretation of McCurry’s masterpiece: I kept only the “characters” that interested me most, organized them the way I wanted, changed the space and perspective… in short, I hope photographers will forgive me for taking these liberties!

Water is mesmerizing. From the vast ocean to a microscopic droplet – it’s always beautiful.

When I set out to paint this picture, I was focused on and captivated by the combination of the red boat on a blue font, without paying much mind to any message behind it. To my surprise, one of the viewers said that this painting “feels invigorating,” and is “something to look at when you need an energy boost or simply want to wake up”. I am interested in the different emotions my painting can evoke. Please don’t hesitate to share your own.

As entertaining as it is to view the swans from beneath the waters of the lake, I had most fun painting the ballerinas' tutus.

A friend of mine said this painting should be called “The Seagull”. I didn’t immediately understand why. He explained that he noticed the emblem of the Chekhov Moscow art theater, which is a seagull, in an unexpected place on the painting: the backside of the woman. Since then, that is the memory that comes to my mind when I look at the picture.

I often get my inspiration from Nauders. I love this small Alpine village. It holds many beautiful and joyful memories for me, yet over the years they take on a bitter taste too. They mix with the sadness of loosing people who felt inseparably connected to this place.
Now, when I look at this image of the Nauders Castle I made long ago (I now only have a photograph of this painting, as it has found a new home) I feel that somehow it carries a hint of this somberness, a premonition of future loss. In the autumn landscape, sharp shadows cutting through the green grass like fangs, there is a sense of the bitterness yet to come.

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Sometimes, you just want to settle in under the branches, as if in an embrace.

I was asked to paint this specific place, a view of the frozen Reschensee. It was not an easy task for me. It's simpler to paint landscapes filled with varied natural elements and different colors, places full of movement and action. Painting a landscape where the main subject is a flat, even, snowy field is almost like painting emptiness.
Still, I am happy with the result. The blue, almost cloudless sky balances the snow-covered lake. The monotony of these two dominant elements brings a calming effect to the composition. To keep that consistency from turning into boredom, I added flying birds that draw attention to the "main character” of the painting – the lake; drifting clouds in the background, slightly caught on a mountain peak, perhaps heading in the same direction as the birds. I altered the reference picture of winter into an early spring – soon the quite field will become water shimmering in the sun with changing colors. Through this captured calmness and peace, sentiments of serenity flow to the viewer. Now the painting lives in France, and I hope it passes its tranquility to its owner.

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Funchal and Lech (the next painting in the Gallery) are the places that are very dear to some of my close friends. Unfortunately, they can no longer travel there. That is why Funchal and Lech appear in the paintings just as they have remained in the memories and descriptions from my friends: with a touch of nostalgia, and with an emphasis on details, as if the mind’s eye were deliberately trying to recreate them with precision.

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Here can be your story. Please, don't hesitate to send it to me.

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I would like to share not only the “happily ever after” fate of the paintings that have found new homes, but also the “unfortunate ones” – the paintings to which life has been less kind.
I love this painting! It was inspired by Nauders, a place I often depict on my paintings. The painting truly imbued with the spirit of this Alpine village. My friends who live there joke that they can even recognize the café visitors in the painting, though, of course, the figures are all fictional.
Unfortunately, one day the painting fell off the wall and there is a black hole now cutting through the night sky of Nauders! On the bright side, the painting is no longer for sale will stay with me forever.

My Russian memories are gradually becoming more blurred, romantic, and even slightly fairy-tale-ish, like the illustrations of fairy tales by Ivan Bilibin.

Sources of inspiration for a painting can sometimes come from unexpected objects, like my mother’s ring. Since childhood, I have loved looking closely at the changes of color that the gem in this ring reveals depending on the light. In the “Lavender Field” all the colors I used come from the palette of that jewel.

And all that jazz.

"To see a world in a grain of sand" - William Blake. "I just hope that the butterfly takes off before the bubble bursts" Vlad, 9yrs old.

When I was a child, I was lucky to meet an accomplished watercolor artist. I visited his studio, where his works were laid out directly on the floor. I wandered through this beauty while he walked beside me. I understood that staying silent any longer would be impolite, but I was so overwhelmed that I was left speechless. Finally, I asked a rather silly question: “What kind of flower is depicted here?” The artist smiled and replied, pointing to his head: “A flower that grew right here”.
The flower in my painting also does not exist in nature, it grew in my mind. Yet for some reason, people call it a bellflower (“kolokolchik” in Russian).

One day I felt like painting a bouquet of tulips in the evening light. Then I decided to imagine what this bouquet would look like in the early morning. That’s how Tulips in the morning appeared (see the painting in my Gallery). To complete the series I painted lilies at noon (there are also in the Gallery).

Here can be your story. Please, don't hesitate to send it to me.

Here can be your story. Please, don't hesitate to send it to me.

I usually work in a realistic style, but sometimes I feel like something more “right-brain-ish” and abstract.