There are tears of joy, tears of delight, tears of hope, tears of happiness, and it is better to finish associative array at this point. But life is life, which means there are also tears of deep sorrow, tears of disappointment and tears of unfulfilled dreams…

This is the most emotional and personal of my collections. And, perhaps, the most abstract. It has almost nothing that could connect it with a tangible world, just a bare emotion, acute experience and subtle psychological states. Transparent layers of glaze, fluid moving forms, split complex colour and shiny lacquered surfaces create a sensation of looking at the canvas through tears.

It is exactly in this collection that my favourite technique of pictorial contradistinctions shows itself quite distinctly. Plain, homogeneous surfaces of pure spectral colour emphasize and establish a stable base for pictorial, semitransparent technique details complex in terms of colour and painting technique. A live and dynamic forms shine through very simply shaped mechanistic smudges of subdued colour.
Airy and intangible space of the sky suddenly overflows into rain smudges pouring down the canvas. Whitened pink paint seems to cut into surface in the shape of strawberry yogurt stains – spray flies all over pictorial image. There is something barbarous, ignorant and even rude. This device seems to return viewer from a difficult journey into the depth of his soul back to the surface. 

‘Life is just a vase with flowers and a cup of morning coffee on your table and nothing more, remember this and stop self-scrutiny’, - this is what I am telling viewer. It is nothing but daily routine, daily fuss and simple monotonous actions that can bring back to life a person who got over a deep emotional shock. 

Sometimes I wash out parts of the image while all forms appear to dissolve, baring naked nerves – a rough white canvas surface. The work seems to shine from within and throbs like blood throbs in temples after sobbing. 

Pathetic and rituality are peculiar to me and sometimes they penetrate my paintings. And then it becomes something quite different, a tale from deep antiquity about a choir of bareheaded women criers, performing mourning anthem, desperate tears of goddess Isis, mourning Osiris or deep sorrow about the hard fate of one’s people.

Yet, each time I start a new painting for that cycle, I am telling myself: ‘Let them be the tears of joy!’

Tears

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Tears (3)