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.

Beaux Arts Paris 1983-1990

inst: @burenko