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Making of CAD 180116
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Dans mon atelier, où je peins au sol. La touche finale (et désolé pour le son 😅)
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Processus de création dans mon atelier!
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Painting process
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Art process. The painting is done with acrylic paints on canvas.
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Few shots and fragments from working process.
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Making of Dreamscape #4
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My studio. Working process. I am painting a still life with aloe.
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The process of making a mosaic
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Artwork Eugene Pokutnev - Subjektiv.art
Eugene Pokutnev - Subjektiv.art
Eugene Pokutnev
Ukraine
That night, I couldn’ sleep. Outside my window, the street lay in pitch-black silence, as if the world itself was holding its breath. In my mind, a scene played out like a film noir—the quiet raised a revolver, cocked it with an ironic smile, and fired a single shot into the sky. Smoke curled, lingering, twisting into shapes. Thoughts exploded in my head, each one a stream of colour racing toward an unseen finish line. They tangled, danced, and in that restless moment, these are the words Eugene said on his creative process. It was then that I understood something, Eugene Pokutnev’ paintings feel exactly like this. I first saw Eugene’ work in Berlin, without knowing his name. His paintings weren’ just compositions of colour - they were movements. They seemed to shift before my eyes, pulling me in, disorienting me in the best way. Later, I learned his secret: ‘-black’ a rare Japanese paint so dense that it absorbs nearly all light, creating an illusion of infinite depth. He orders it from a master in Japan, layering it alongside vibrant colour, bending space itself on the canvas. When you stand before his work, it’ as if you’ falling into the painting, moving between its layers, losing balance for just a second. His journey into art was as unexpected as the effect of his work. Growing up in Dnipro (coincidentally my home town), a career in art was never considered an option. He spent his days sketching intricate patterns but, like many others in his city, he needed stability. So he became a policeman. And yet, fate has its way of rewriting stories. One day, while investigating a burglary, his colleague casually showed the apartment owner some of Eugene’ sketches. The man, a businessman with an eye for art, was so captivated that he made an offer on the spot: “ the police. I’ fund you.” And just like that, Eugene left law enforcement behind.
Artwork Myroslava Perevalska - Subjektiv.art
Myroslava Perevalska - Subjektiv.art
Myroslava Perevalska
Ukraine
Some artists paint what they see. Others paint what they dream. Myroslava Perevalska paints what she feels, and, more importantly, what she fears losing. In a world rushing forward, she is an artist who asks us to slow down, to breathe, to see before the colours fade, before the emotions slip away, before time moves beyond our grasp. When we spoke, she described her connection to art in a way I had never heard before. “ think of myself as a fish,” she told me. “ fish that doesn’ question the water, that doesn’ think about how deep it swims. It just exists.” Art is her element, her lifeblood, and her way of understanding the world. It’ why, even as war reshapes the reality around her, she continues to create, not just as a form of resistance but as a way to document the truth as she experiences it. Her paintings are immediately recognisable, figures emerging from bold, urgent strokes of red, white, and black. Red, she told me, is the colour of life, of passion, of survival. It pulses through her work, a constant heartbeat. But it is also the colour she fears losing. “ greatest happiness,” she said, referencing Borges, “ when a blind man dreams of red.” The idea of losing that sensation, of not being able to feel the depth of colour, is her deepest fear. But instead of running from it, she embraces it, pours it into her canvases, ensuring that even if time erodes memory, the intensity of her vision remains. As we talked, her thoughts spiralled outward - philosophy, history, technology, even the fate of humanity. “ are all on the Titanic,” she told me. “ comfortable but unaware of what’ coming.” The world is changing too quickly. Wars, pandemics, artificial intelligence, isolation. She fears we are forgetting how to truly be present. That people are becoming less human. She sees this loss reflected in modern art, how simple narratives and raw emotion are disappearing, replaced by a detachment from the soul of creation.
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