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Process of creating art means double reflection: not only the memory, but also the emotion of the present. Remembering an image… Memories of the future as an attempt to remember, to fix what you will forget or have almost forgotten. Whose memory is this? Mine about the buildings? Or the memory of the buildings about me? My aim is telling the beauty of the moment by placing it outside of time.
See something special and talk about it. You start to speak out, no matter what the topic, and your voice opens up.
Artworks
I have on my left -
Dancing smoldering charcoal.
Did you wait? Have you finally given yourself permission?
You can feel the fabric smoldering,
Turning to ash,
Through the blaze that longs to be told!
A smouldering smokestack
Is it easy to wear?
To carry, to hold.
And know that it is in you.


October 4, 2021
19:43 p.m.

Maria W.
2018-2022
Selected works
Sardinian paintings. Sardegna
30x100 cm, oil on canvas, 2018

Exhibitions:
"CONTEMPORARY VENICE 2021 – THE SECRET GARDEN!"
"Venice International Art Fair 14 Edition 2021/2022"
"ArtRussia Fair 2020"
Sardinian paintings. Mark
45x45 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
Exhibitions:
Boomer gallery, London 2021
ArtRussia Fair 2020
Memories of the future
70x70 cm, oil on canvas, 2022

Female. Memories of the future.
60x110 cm, oil on canvase, 2021
Female. Memories of the future
2020-2022
Memories of the future
70x70 cm, oil on canvas, 2022


The artwork has a story I want to share with you.

From November 2021 I was planning to move to Portugal from Russia. Finally, I came to Lisbon in March 2022: the moment coincided with the beginning of situation we have in the world.
I have left all my artworks in Russia, as I had to leave Moscow with just one suitcase. Now in my new shelter in Lisbon I have only one painting from my previous works, which was exhibited in Venice in January 2022, and I could receive it here.

The other ones nowadays are stuck in Moscow in the apartment of my university years friend, @nastiotam, who lives in the center of Moscow, Tverskaya street, where all manifestations take place.
That day, when I moved all my works to Nastia’s apartment in the downtown, she met me dressed up in colors of Ukrainian flag: long yellow skirt and blue sweater.

I took a photo from that our meeting. In the photo accidentally Nastia was standing in front of my oil self-portrait, where I raised up the arm, and she did the same gesture. It was like a mirror. That moment inspired me to create a painting with this composition.

Later, before crossing the Russian border, I was forced to delete the photo from my phone. Before cleaning the phone, I sent the photo to Nastia, but in the next few days she was detained on the streets of Moscow, she had blocked her phone, while being transferred in a police van, and then couldn't unblock it.

That photo is unrestorable, that mirror moment now exists only in our memory.
Thus, I’ve decided to restore it in my new painting. I ought to paint this picture in oil for nobody can delete it.

This painting is about life, about freedom, moving ahead with art.
The faces are blurred, they're kind of haze of memories. The shapes of figures are fuzzy, dissolving, like the moment of creation the painting in real life, dissolving between the past and the future.

“Memories of the future”
Oil, canvas, 70x70
2022
Female. Memories of the future.
Graphics
Charcoal. 2021
I feel an interest in the process of creation, the moment of creative impulse. What happens if you suppress or express it?
Female. Memories of the future
Graphics
Charcoal. 2021
«Self-focus.»

I look at myself - I have changed. Getting to know myself, wanting to know myself more intimately.
Put into it everything you feel, from the fear of failure to an inner high that fevers, worries, moves inside, and if you let it - spills out in a flood of words, thoughts, lines, strokes, trembling, nervous, long and true, as if catching your breath in anticipation.
The first thing that came to hand - and perhaps it’s the most important thing, the thing you’ve been running from for so long, daring not to look at yourself. Funny? Not daring to look yourself in the eye. Now look, look carefully, and let what you see be reflected in you. Try, put the image, of everything you see, together.
You look at yourself because you have no other model and you need now, you need urgently, immediately to see how the sun plays on human skin, how the atmosphere around you lays on the plasticity of your nudity. And then you wonder if it’s so coincidental that your gaze has fallen on you. After all, if no one else is around, you always stay.
Reflexion
Once you have paused and been in silence and boredom, the existing emptiness is filled by an explosion of what you have been waiting for.
What were you doing? - And then I was covered.
The bed, the bedspread.
Scattered sheets and sketches.
You and the empty room.
You and the empty space.
What emerges is a reflection of the dialogue of the two of you.
What happens when you’re left alone with the space?
You know how it is?
You wake up in the morning and you don’t know what’s going on. Something’s bothering you, poking in different directions, dropping objects, not sure what you want. The feeling of being unborn.
You and the room. You and your space. The empty space between you is a space to be filled, it’s free for something to emerge.

January 2021
Memories of the future. Roma
Graphics
Charcoal. 2021
Let’s pretend you and I are strangers.
Look, the sun is falling on the hills;
Down the slopes, shadows to the road,
With transparent, light patches caressing the snow.


March 13, 2021
To Roma
With red paint on my knee.
40x50 cm. oil on canvase, 2021
Female. Memories of the future
Tryptich. 110x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2021
This piece is a part of "Female. Memories of the future" series, 2020-2021

The artwork shows a young girl painting herself. Nudity here is a metaphor for spiritual nudity on the one hand, and openness and naturalness on the other. Female nudity is a symbol of naturalness and sensuality. The point of the work is to convey the sensuality of the moment, sensual perception of the world as a natural way of experiencing the world. Time is one of the key themes of the series.

The girl on the verge of discovery, she is trying to realize herself as a woman. Her hand is raised, she throws back her hair in a feminine gesture and gazes at herself, aware of the signs of becoming a woman. Her other hand is lowered and she draws sketches of the human body, looking at herself as a model. For her, it is a way of exploring herself and the world.

The shape of the female body is read clearly, but the face is indistinct and blurred, reflecting the multidimensionality and complexity of the girl's perception of herself, as well as the three-dimensional nature of the image. The girl is a stranger to herself, so her face is unclear and hidden in the shadows.
From my notes:

You are carrying two heavy fruits,
As filled with golden mist,
Tearfully and sweetly ringing.
They are your head and heart.
Female. Memories of the future.
60x110 cm, oil on canvase, 2021
Sardinian paintings
2018-2020
Sardinian paintings. Mark
45x45 cm, oil on canvas, 2018

Sardinian paintings. Two
40x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
Sardinian paintings. Sardegna
30x100 cm, oil on canvas, 2018

Sardinian paintings.
30x40 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
o
Sardinian paintings. Rainy beach
45x45 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
o
Sardinian paintings. Marina Castiadas
30x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
o
Sardinian paintings. Rainy
50x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2019
Sardinian paintings
30x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
Sardinian paintings.Golden
30x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
o
Sardinian paintings.Stefania
30x40 cm, oil on canvas, 2019
Sardinian paintings. Etude.
30x40 cm, oil on canvas, 2018
Sardinian paintings. Blue.
50x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2020
Rome series
2018-2020
Rome. Palazzo Pamhpilji
100x70 cm, oil on canvas, 2019
Exhibitions:
Boomer gallery, London
o
Rome series. Pink
30x40 cm, oil on canvas, 2019
o
True-to-life vision, deep reflection, recalling and recreating the fragments lost in memory are combined into abstract painting. Representation of impressions immediacy and memory inconstancy is also empowered by special technique: linseed oil instead of solvent leaves a place for unpredictability, chance, and with it, life itself.

Spring in Rome
50x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2019
o
Rome series. Spring in Rome etude
20x30 cm, oil on canvas, 2019
o

Rome series. Golden
30x40 cm, oil on canvas, 2019
Venice series
2020-2022
Venice series. San Marco
30x60, oil on canvas, 2020
o
Venice series. Blue
30x60, oil on canvas, 2020
o
Venice series. Salt
30x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2021
Verona
40x60 cm, oil on canvas, 2020
Venice series. San Marco square
20x80 cm, oil on canvas, 2021
Venice series. Grande
90x90, oil on canvas, 2020
Venice series. San Marco flaming
60x90, oil on canvas, 2020
Venice series. Reflection
45x45 cm, oil on canvas, 2021
Milan. Tryptich
3 pieces 20x40 cm,
oil on canvas, 2020
Poetry
2019-2022
I didn’t know I have a soul,
that wants to speak, that’s looking for a way out.
I didn’t know there was something that had no name,
Until you say it yourself,
That floods you, and it comes flooding in
And won’t let you think or plan,
It’s vague, it’s powerful, it’s uncertain.
And there’s nothing you can do to stop it,
Till you can put it into words
Till you know it’s a need
To speak, and to be heard.

26. 06. 2019
Why are you laughing? -
They tell me. They tell me all the time.
I don’t know.
I laugh to get away,
Or to get you closer

April 2020
Insomnia.

Scraps of words and thoughts suffocate:
Close your eyes, open them again.
They swirl in a dark whirl,
Unlived in the light of day,
Unlost, unquietly,
unfaithfully, vilely, unchallenged,
Blame you again for everything.

07.04.2020
2:42
When your lips are stiff with dumbness,
You think you won’t be understood,
You speak, but the thought you hear is not the same
And you feel like you haven’t been you for years,
And you’ve been asleep, or walking around, or just being him,
And you ask yourself who the rascal is.
Who’s the one who’s shackled your mouth, Who’s made you forget that you’re you,
What you can say, speak, to the leaf - and to everyone.
It’s as if you were asleep, stunned,
Deep down inside
And you couldn’t call out to yourself.
So it’s no wonder other people can’t hear you,
And you’re afraid they won’t understand you,
If you don’t understand yourself?


26. 06. 2019
It came, it came, it came.
And it’s been hiding for a long time - you can’t pull it out with tongs.
I like to taste again
My own - or not my own? - Thoughts
I like to run my hand over paper, unthinkingly,
Catching their scraps in the air, sybaritic,
And listen to them rustling on the paper,
Listening to their sounds inside yourself first.

07.04.2020 4:03
I have on my left -
Dancing smoldering charcoal.
Did you wait? Have you finally given yourself permission?
You can feel the fabric smoldering,
Turning to ash,
Through the blaze that longs to be told!
A smouldering smokestack
Is it easy to wear?
To carry, to hold.
And know that it is in you.


October 4, 2021
19:43 p.m.

Maria W.
I ask you, what are you thinking about?
Nine o’clock in the morning is such a good time to think,
When trees float by in cobalt and sienna,
And you’ve only slept so you can start the day over again.
I’m thinking about how we could
Could have met here on the train Could have
Think of each other, who are you?
Could get off at the same station in the middle,
Talking halfway through the journey,
Talking, running away together.

I can hear you breathing, I’m thinking
As if I’m seeing you for the first time.



March 13, 2021
It’s like balancing
Like dancing on the edge of a ledge.
Here you’re swaying on your toe, not knowing
In what second you’ll feel the exact support under your feet.
In what second you’ll know again
That you’ve got your footing and you’re holding on tight
Like when you were a kid and you’re holding on tight to a limb
Before you jump off the branch?
What second will you know that your mind will hold you,
Like your body when you’re bobbing on the waves?
I can’t be the way the rules say I should be,
The way someone else intended, not me.
I can’t promise that I’ll shut up now, that I’ll shut my tongue,
That I’ll go to sleep peacefully or work,
When there’s a wave in my head that won’t let up
And if I shut it up I’ll drown in it,
Or she becomes me and I become her.
I can’t promise that I’ll want something now or not,
And I can’t do anything against my will.
So what should I do?
Release the tsunami,
Closing my ears to others without looking at them, can I?
Denying all the rules for me, made up not by me,
All the strokes of my lines, not by me drawn,
Barefoot - triumphing! - running over the hills? In the rapture of my own impertinence!
Am I still five?
I want to look at the stars without fear,
That something unknown and terrifying is hidden in them,
I want to look and think that I love what’s up there.
To think that it’s beautiful.

So I said.



August 25, 2021
The audacity is unbelievable!
To want to have both
Swirling, flaming,
Heels kicking at the sides in a whirlwind
Fiery, fiery, born,
Tickling the fingertips of the lines -
And to have love.
To have yourself -
And have another beside you.
To have the unearthly
And to have the earthly.
The audacity is unheard of
To ride like a mad rider
With the croup slipping,
And to walk lightly
Through the sun-breathing streets.
Let’s pretend you and I are strangers.
Look, the sun is falling on the hills;
Down the slopes, shadows to the road,
With transparent, light patches caressing the snow.
Let us pretend for a moment that we are not us.
Look, the snow becomes thin, transparent and breathing,
Like a net, bleeding with fiery languor in the sun.
I remember seeing it as a child,
And I remember the singing of the trees as a child.
Neopolitan yellow-pale,
Sienna natural, cobalt blue.


Let’s play that you and I are strangers?


March 13, 2021

Like a caressed body.
Canvas. With strokes like kisses.
Touched, as gently with a finger,
Over the warm skin.
Traces of love, if one could see - they would be so.
Like brushstrokes on a canvas.


You know every stroke.

Made on
Tilda