Thinking about water reminds me of all the countless moments which cause a state of total isolation – a condition which is neither good nor bad, but which refers to a moment in which I can be sure that nobody reaches me and in which I am most happy. Being completely absorbed in thoughts, I bear little or no relation to the outside world and I can do it exactly because of water.
Similarly to fever, which is the nature’s way of telling you that your body is fighting off an infection, the water becomes an antidote to human nosiness, spitefulness and rat race; it is like a fresh balm applied to a tired mind. When we are deprived of basic life aspects which guarantee privacy and even intimacy, we may find escape in water. It often happens that the further we move, the better we feel and – quite paradoxically – the deep, rough sea may offer us more solace than a seemingly calm sandy coast. As a result, our infected awareness turns into a beautiful mind. In this way, nature – water in particular – plays a similar role to an effective medical treatment at the professional surgery. It helps our body fight off the infection, even though it may seem that we have coped with it on our own.
Water always ranks high in my order of priorities, but – unlike in landscape painting – it is never the sole object of my works. It appears as the main element in a painting and as such it always determines the behaviour of the characters – characters who depend on water in the sense that their actual mood, facial expression and posture are influenced by it. And although at first glance the painted scene may appear quite simple, later we learn how complex it really is. For instance, water helps us come to terms with a situation which we feel anxious about.
This is illustrated in the painting titled “Couple”: the young people there seem to be happy after they have reached inner peace (“Couple”). The young girl on the gang-board does not seem as calm as they are and the sea is not as still and quiet (“Ripples”). In other words, the ripples on the surface mirror her anxiety. We can see that she is on the verge of discovering some great mystery and she is feeling like in a fairy-tale. The magical ripples excite her imagination. The rippled sea in this paining contrasts with the flat surface in another – “Leap” – in which the water is based on solely one colour. Unlike “Ripples,” “Leap” was painted without the use of the chiaroscuro convention. It features a woman who uses the vast sea surface as her area of reflection. Maybe only there she can fulfil her dual nature. In fact, looking at this diptych we have the impression of two independent persons with the leap of the orca between them as a conversation piece.
Also in “Wave” a few bar guests share a common emotional state. The titular wave intensifies the atmosphere of waiting for something unimaginably powerful and is like a harbinger of the impending storm. To the people sitting lazily on the gallery, the wave does not represent any danger, but even here the whole scenery turns into a dialogue between the human and water elements.
Looking at people on the bridge (“Bridge”), we confront two different worlds – the modern world of mass consumption with a wilder world of primeval nature. They meet together, exist very close to each other and show their characters in the most sophisticated way – people in line can at most focus on their plastic bags stolen by the wind, whereas the raging river does the same job it has been doing for thousands of years – it flows.
For me, water tells an interesting story. It reflects the reality and gives meaning to our existence. It mirrors our thoughts and thus it also tells our story and passes it down to the next generations. I find water a particularly fascinating object of painting as it is constantly changing, so what appears on the canvas as the final result is one and only moment which will never happen again.