Earthquake Collage

Ida about herself I am interesting to experiment with different technicians, invoices, forms, materials. Search and find the most closest to me ways of self-expression and cognition itself - my essence, which surprises me, coming out of depths of my "I" in paints and lines, being in images and compositions new for me. I am interesting to be with myself, what else there is inside me? Improvisation - my lovely style. Speed and accuracy of sensation, moving into conception, and on the exhalation, suddenly, appear on canvas a picture , as though this is done not by me, but only stake out on strict critiques of my soul. And seldom be satisfied with made... I am dreaming and imaging about my own pictures, but likes me only that, which is not yet painted, which is soaring somewhere and calls me to the beckon blue sky. GOD creates from NOTHING. Person creates from the created God. In the authorities of person to image, express and glorify this world, or destroy, dismember, abolish it , that most often occurs in the art in XX century, as far as understand a world and create good much difficult. Painting - one of the ways of understanding of the mysterious world as visible, so and invisible, which quite as much influences upon the artist, as a world palpable, lit shining a sun or gleam of stars. This invisible world often dictates us their own images, suppress us unknown or apparent liberty and beauty of ugly, but full absence of this beauty and harmony. Painting - a picture of soul, its spirituality, purities, glad love to the God and its creation, or sinfulness, overcast, ire and despairs of quit. I inspire a contemplate of clouds, unique pictures of rises and sundowns, inconceivability of water surface subtle motion and modulations of color, beauty human body and secret of animals silence, looking to our eye by its light not blink glance. Likes a condition of contemplate, reach depths which is so difficult in the same way as slowly fall in the gap. Tend to caught a beauty , as goldfish in water, but it slips away and disappears, as the morning mist. My pictures - amorous bees, fly in the morning to endless flowers , to enjoy its honey aroma and to slake a nectar floral pollen.