Yana

Dimensions: 27.80 H × 20.08 W in
Medium: Acrylic on colored paper
Year: 2026

A portrait of a young woman in strong backlight — a quiet moment of inner reflection, holding a sense of calm, gentle melancholy, and anticipation of change.

In this work, I wanted to convey not so much Yana’s appearance as her inner state. Although sunlight seems to envelop her face, hair, and body, she remains immersed in her own world — thoughtful, slightly distant, perhaps dreaming of something. I was drawn to that particular moment when something is coming to an end while something new is only beginning to take shape. It is not a dramatic sadness, but rather a quiet feeling of saying goodbye to what has been left behind, together with a calm acceptance of the changes ahead.

The work is executed in acrylic on toned red paper. I used broad, expressive brushstrokes to preserve a sense of lightness, movement, and the elusive quality of light. Color reflections across the skin and hair convey the play of sunlight and its interaction with the surface. Certain areas of the portrait are intentionally left unfinished, allowing the red of the paper to show through and become part of the overall color harmony. This unfinished quality is important to me — it preserves a sense of air, movement, and a moment that has not yet fully settled into a fixed form.

Mom and Dad

Dimensions: 46.97 H × 24.29 W in
Medium: Gouache
Year: 2026

A portrait of my parents, whom I now see only through the screen of a phone — an image of closeness transformed by distance into a digital presence.

This work is dedicated to my parents, whom I have not seen in person for five years. Because of my emigration, I have not been able to return to Russia, and today our encounters take place only through the screen of a phone. I therefore intentionally preserved the format of the image as if it were a screenshot from a video call. My parents are lying together on a bed, talking and looking into the screen, while the cool glow of the phone illuminates their faces. This is how I see them now — through a small illuminated window that both connects us and reminds me of the distance between us.

Over time, I have begun to notice that I am gradually forgetting the feeling of their physical presence — their closeness, the space around them, the simple feeling of being in the same room. Between us there is now a screen, and this work became an attempt to capture this strange new state of closeness through distance.

The painting is executed in gouache on gray paper. I intentionally focused most of my attention on the faces, while the surroundings and background are rendered more formally and in a simplified manner. It was important for me to preserve the emotional tension in their expressions and gazes — their love, concern, and anxiety for me and my daughter. The gray paper and the limited space of the composition reinforce a sense of silence, distance, and the fragile connection that nevertheless continues to exist between us.

Between Surrender and Hope

Dimensions: 27.80 H × 20.08 W in
Medium: Gouache on colored paper
Year: 2026

Two women by the river — two states of being, suspended between the feeling of complete surrender and a quiet, almost imperceptible sense of hope.

In this work, the river becomes a metaphor for life and time, continuing to move regardless of our inner state. Two women sit by the water, perhaps after swimming or before entering it. One is absorbed in herself, as if she has stopped waiting. The other looks into the distance, toward the direction in which the river flows, as though still waiting for something beyond what can be seen.

I wanted to capture not so much a contrast between despair and hope as the very subtle state between them — the moment when a person feels that they have completely surrendered. Yet it is precisely at this point, when the need to fight and control what is happening begins to disappear, that space for hope unexpectedly emerges. Surrender here is not an ending. It becomes part of an inner movement, after which a new beginning becomes possible.

The difference in age between the two figures also carries meaning, although I intentionally do not seek to explain it literally. Perhaps with experience, we begin to perceive difficulties and change differently — not as a final point, but as part of a longer journey. What may feel like an ending at one age can later be understood as a transition toward something new.

The work is executed in gouache on toned blue paper. As in some of my other works, I left certain areas of the paper unpainted, allowing its color to become part of the painted surface. The cool blue tone creates a sense of summer freshness, water, and silence, while the loose handling of color preserves a feeling of air and movement.

The Unfolding

Dimensions: 41.73 H × 28.35 W in
Medium: Gouache
Year: 2026

A portrait of a fifteen-year-old girl at the threshold of adulthood — between the safety of childhood and the unfamiliar responsibility of becoming her own person.

This portrait depicts my daughter at fifteen, shortly after we moved from Russia to the United States. The move coincided with one of the most important transitional periods of her life — the passage from childhood toward independence. She was still my child, but I could already sense the beginning of her separation from the familiar world and the formation of her own adult identity.

I wanted to capture this moment of transformation — the vulnerability and uncertainty of adolescence, when a new sense of femininity and individuality is beginning to emerge. There is a slight apprehension in her gaze, as if she understands that this transition is inevitable, even though she is not yet emotionally ready for it. She is in a foreign country, surrounded by a new reality, where she must gradually find her place and learn to build a life of her own.

The yellow chair carries a symbolic meaning for me. It suggests a throne and becomes an image of the transition from princess to queen. The work also contains an echo of an old archetype: a young princess brought to a foreign kingdom, where she is eventually expected to become its ruler. In this sense, the new country becomes not only a place of uncertainty and change, but also the place where she will have to become the author of her own life.

The painting is executed in gouache on gray kraft paper. Unlike some of my more spontaneous works, this painting was developed more slowly and with greater attention to detail, using successive thin layers and glazing. I paid particular attention to the color and light of the skin, seeking to convey a sense of youth, softness, and smoothness. This became especially important in contrast with the rougher texture of the chair and the paper. The figure was meant to remain the visual and emotional center of the work — vulnerable and alive, yet already beginning to acquire a sense of her own strength.

Bent, but Not Broken

Dimensions: 29.45 H × 39.37 W in
Medium: Gouache
Year: 2026

The figure of a man lying on the rocks by the river.

The figure of the lying man is surrounded by a dense wall of forest — dark, almost impenetrable, both beautiful and slightly threatening. He lies on the rocks by the water as if after a long struggle, when his strength is nearly exhausted. Yet for me, this state is not one of brokenness. It is a pause — a moment when a person needs to stop in order to regain strength for another attempt.

His bent arm becomes a small but important gesture of resistance. It suggests an intention to rise, to continue moving, to make another attempt. I wanted to convey this contradiction: outwardly, the man appears defeated, yet within him there is still an enormous reserve of strength. Sometimes stopping is necessary not because we are no longer capable of moving forward, but because we need to restore our ability to continue.

In this work, nature becomes a reflection of the figure’s inner state. The dark forest seems to surround him from all sides, creating a sense of pressure and obstacles, while the river continues to move beside him. The water reminds us that time and life do not stop, even when a person is forced to pause.

The painting is executed in gouache on gray paper. I paid particular attention to the silhouette and the physical presence of the figure, seeking to make it the emotional center of the composition. I wanted the figure to convey a sense of physical exhaustion while simultaneously holding a sense of inner strength. In some areas of the background, I intentionally left the gray surface of the paper exposed, allowing it to interact with the painted layers and preserve a sense of air, naturalness, and incompleteness.