The Bouquet of Daffodils Painting

I spent one part of my childhood in the beautiful city St. Petersburg, absorbing the beauty of many works of art with my mother's milk. The other part was held in a remote village. On one side is a forest, on the other a river. In the long winter evenings, I drew with whatever I had to: pencils, watercolors, gouache, markers, pastels. In my family, the profession of an artist was not considered promising and serious, so growing up, I took a different path, graduated from the Faculty of Biology, and painted only from time to time. Needless to say, all the notebooks and lectures were decorated with my illustrations. However, the creative side of my personality was always rushing out and found a way out in writing, in kindergarten classes, creating scenery, needlework, developing design projects for premises. And only after the birth of the fourth child, which greatly changed my attitude to myself, taught me to trust and listen, and became to some extent a rebirth, I allowed myself to draw, despite the friendly ridicule of my relatives, despite my busy schedule. I drew furtively at night, drawing whenever I could, feeling a powerful, irresistible force, a thirst, as if I had tapped into some bottomless treasury of the universe. Now there are orders and sales, and I have so many images, so many ideas that require implementation on canvas, paper, and walls, that will last for many years to come.