Hormonal Umbrella Painting

My name is Olga Korenieva. By education, I am a metallurgical engineer, but painting entered my life quietly and without permission. There were no decisions, no plans. One day I simply realized that not painting was painful. And once I started, I couldn't stop. My first solo exhibition took place in the city of Enerhodar — before the occupation. That was the first time I saw my works on walls and understood that I was real. That it was more than a hobby. That I could. That exhibition became a point of self-recognition for me. “InnerSan,” my second solo exhibition, represents a different version of myself — one that creates during wartime. These paintings were made during the full-scale war — not because I was inspired, but because I needed not to fade away. Everything around is tense, painful, unstable. But inside — something glows. And I simply allow it to come out through color, rhythm, impulse, and canvas. These works don’t tell specific stories or depict events. I don’t illustrate — I transmit states. They are not “about something,” they are from someone. From me. From my present body, heart, breath. There is movement, expression, contrast, intuition. And perhaps each viewer will see something personal in them — because I don’t impose meaning; I open space. Materially, it’s quite simple: an acrylic imprimatura, followed — layer by layer — by oil. Oil gives time and depth; it allows me to truly enter the process. I love this dialogue with the canvas — it’s not always gentle, but it’s always honest. This exhibition is not about art as a phenomenon. And it’s not about me as an artist. It’s about the strength it takes to remain alive. About the inner sun that doesn’t ask permission to shine. War and the unpredictable twists of life have undeniably shaped my artistic expression. Just two months before the war began, I was diagnosed with cancer, and two days before the first explosions, I underwent a successful surgery. As part of my treatment, the production of estrogen and progesterone—so-called “female hormones”—was medically halted. These events had a profound impact on my artistic voice, transforming my perception of aesthetics and ushering in an entirely new creative phase. I call this deeply personal and transformative cycle of work my “Hypoestrogenic and Hypoprogesteronic Creative Period.