 When you live at time of changes and especially with no changing the principles and even if it seems paradoxical it is possible to change your place in classification of modern art. I mean that isolated area that nowadays named post-soviet. And what was avantgarde in recent past today is retro. Once, one painter, author of installations (that are for a long time a type of museum art in West) were in fashion in times of perestroyka, on my explanation, in what style I'm working, certified – a-a-a canvas, oils.
In real all this- postmodernism and we all travel in intricate paths of infinite garden, called world culture. And of what consists a personality of painter is a riddle.
Personal temperament, intellect, spiritual organization degree are the basis of cloth, in what are intertwining the cultural environment, and influence of works of separate painter, and interest to other cultures etc., all that makes pattern unique.
Canvas, oils of course are not on the high technology that is used in modern art, (most probably the break will happen in diffusion of real and virtual worlds, but I do not want to predict). Although to the point to remember, that birth of daguerreotype did not killed painting.
Character of my task in painting makes impossible that transfer in other materials, because each material has it's own philosophy. At least, my interest connected with tactile feeling, that may be relates my experience in painting and technique of etching, that retains unrealized wish to try myself in plastic.
I relate to old-fashioned generation, for which the supermodels from the lustrous cover will never in place of alive flesh (I do not know, what will be with humanity in future). But I need sense of touch, smell. Smell of linseed oil, canvas and even turpentine, all these are something like a tea ceremony. It is a ritual. That secret is interesting for me, when paint stops be a paint and becomes a flower, when plane stops be a plane and find out some vibration. How does presence arise.
Each painting - it is a little success and big defeat of painter, because the goal always slipping away; relentless pursuit is the creative work. And a painter, by H. Cortasar, is pursuer.
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