Story Of A Painting – Rock Crystals

I have been enchanted by precious stones.

This painting of Rock Crystals is the first, the prolog! 

Which crystal is your favorite?

Comment below and one day – you might see yours painted, and if suitable, on your wall. 

Rock Crystals. 2017, oil on canvas, 70 x 70 cm

A Thousand Kisses Deep

Staying untouched is no solid ground. Every person is changing thanks to his surroundings. It is a way of development – a necessity for life, the only real reason we are here, on planet Earth, in physical bodies. To learn. To experience.

Artists are no exception. We are influenced by our predecessors. People have a mission and I believe, the ones who think alike might sometimes be even more tightly connected than with blood ties. It is like a family, the artists whose work you must continue; not in a way of repeating, but whose knowledge you learn, and try to go on from there. 

Leonard Cohen was one of my honoured men, so I was deeply saddened when he passed away last year. Several paintings have been made in reminiscence of his works, of his unrepeatable persona, even my first poetry book got its name, inspired by one of his songs: so yes, we have something in common: admiration for the same.

I want to give my thanks, forwarding his message: may his poem be the first I share in this Inspiratio category. A deeply moving, full version of the touchy and wonderful, deep and surreal, under skin coming A Thousand Kisses Deep. May it move your world as it moves my blood:

1. You came to me this morning

And you handled me like meat.

You’d have to live alone to know

How good that feels, how sweet.

My mirror twin, my next of kin,

I’d know you in my sleep.

And who but you would take me in

A thousand kisses deep?

2. I loved you when you opened

Like a lily to the heat.

I’m just another snowman

Standing in the rain and sleet,

Who loved you with his frozen love

His second-hand physique –

With all he is, and all he was

A thousand kisses deep.

3. All soaked in sex, and pressed against

The limits of the sea:

I saw there were no oceans left

For scavengers like me.

We made it to the forward deck

I blessed our remnant fleet –

And then consented to be wrecked

A thousand kisses deep.

4. I know you had to lie to me,

I know you had to cheat.

But the Means no longer guarantee

The Virtue in Deceit.

That truth is bent, that beauty spent,

That style is obsolete –

Ever since the Holy Spirit went

A thousand kisses deep.

5. (So what about this Inner Light

That’s boundless and unique?

I’m slouching through another night

A thousand kisses deep.)

6. I’m turning tricks; I’m getting fixed,

I’m back on Boogie Street.

I tried to quit the business –

Hey, I’m lazy and I’m weak.

But sometimes when the night is slow,

The wretched and the meek,

We gather up our hearts and go

A thousand kisses deep.

7. (And fragrant is the thought of you,

The file on you complete –

Except what we forgot to do

A thousand kisses deep.)

8. The ponies run, the girls are young,

The odds are there to beat.

You win a while, and then it’s done –

Your little winning streak.

And summoned now to deal

With your invincible defeat,

You live your life as if it’s real

A thousand kisses deep.

9. (I jammed with Diz and Dante –

I did not have their sweep –

But once or twice, they let me play

A thousand kisses deep.)

10. And I’m still working with the wine,

Still dancing cheek to cheek.

The band is playing “Auld Lang Syne” –

The heart will not retreat.

And maybe I had miles to drive,

And promises to keep –

You ditch it all to stay alive

A thousand kisses deep.

11. And now you are the Angel Death

And now the Paraclete;

And now you are the Savior’s Breath

And now the Belsen heap.

No turning from the threat of love,

No transcendental leap –

As witnessed here in time and blood

A thousand kisses deep.

People give years of their lives to finish poems, paintings, songs. Please appreciate it: share the knowledge with the source. This poem was trusted from

The Cost Of A Sight

I was coming down the Wednesday’s sidewalk when a thought hit me like: a ton of bricks, a raindrop, like an ornithocoprus! Every bite we buy has a price. But what about all the other, non-swallowable bits?

I was smelling today’s street gas, cats, cars, rain, spring. Every smell one ounce at a time. Like a musician would pick up note by note from a song or differentiate an instrument among many others. Catching the sources. A modern human being would categorise it as being mindful, but I really think it is one of the oldest habits of being present – paying attention. Vital, really.

So, at this April In Paris, I had another wonderful experience (reminiscence?) how we can sip by sip worship things that are not given the prize by society. I mean, cherry blossoms in Japan are an attraction of beauty, but all that is growing among the local dirt and dust – who would care to notice? We have to realise the worth ourselves to make it a win-win.

So much rich stuff all around. So many smells of stories, mixed perfumes of a town filled with lives of people and ideas, spring crocuses and amore. Open eyes are one of the most important tools for an artist, but they could and should be for everyone (because everyone has the organs). What is the price of a sight, a shared understanding? A glimpse of seeing a dear person, a masterpiece of an artwork? To see, to really feel… Lately, I was asked, what is the secret of Mona Lisa. I answered, with an obvious grin on my face, “the smile, of course”. “But why is it so expensive?” 

“Smiles are expensive,” I replied.

Love Is In The Air – Or In The Fantasy

We, artists need love like oxygen. In both ideal and non idyllic conditions we are wired to spread it like trees are making sugar out of photosynthesis. That is more than ideology, it is the nectar of gods we are sharing. 

All humans consume and create, but while many can accept having their needs met, we, visionaries, need partners for our microcosm to create a love form of its own. Worth all the drama. The cost of a great artwork. 

One does not understand unless one is ready to accept the truth, in loco and universal; until the subject is ripe like a warm yellow plum from the sapphire heaven of plums and understands that there is way beyond to what meets the eye, but what meets the eye remains the thing in front of the eye – and also this is very real. 

It all started way before Plato wrote his Symposium, where theory of every human being split into two halves by Zeus was most notably first mentioned. It travelled through rough times before Zeus and transformed into masterpieces by Rodin and now there is a new mythological concept – the Twin Flames. Well, it is all the same thing really. Love is all there is. And as my favourite rabbi, Dr. Abraham Twerski put it, love is to give, give, give (OK, BB King said the same thing!).

Unless the theme covers up your Achilles heel! A morbid weakness of a vision (Til Death Do Us Part) is no Manolo Blahnik to wear nor bear through life. Love is a verb. A doing word. If there is not the all beautiful two-sided act in the serious play, there is no other party to begin with. No shared dream to fight for at the barriers. Not everyone is a dreamer, not everyone is given the knowledge to recognise the Embrace of the Serpent. 

One has to see a thing for what it is or one could be blinded by a black spot that in the modern world – as every other thing – is labelled, categorised and diagnosed as a mental disease. It even has a name: the addiction of Love, and this thing is real. A foggy illusion more enjoyed in the tortured head, a misguided path our society has endured to develop behind the gorgeous curtains of romantic love. While plenty of people are illustrating how to connect with your other half, it is of an utmost importance to admit, that sometimes, you can actually live the dream thou are willing, if only you decide to start doing so in the Now. If you see yourself as the yellow, ripe plum. Warm as the smile of a springtime.

As always, be the Love you want in your life and spread Your FULL Light. Surround yourself only with the very best you deserve. And if you want something physical to stare at, that stares back at you with the same level of admiration, you can always check out my oil paintings of highest quality and good at – I promise, they are full of infatuation 👠💛☝🏻️

The Picture I Have Painted Forever

Blue Embrace.jpg

Blue Embrace. 2017, oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm


They say, every author continues to repeat the theme important for him/her lifelong.

The topic starts like a tree. From a seed. Grows towards the light. A real heliotrope. Finds his ways to multiply via branches, to find even more ways to reach, just one more possibility to arrive, to be there… where the light is.


Until the seed is just a little closer to the Sun.

Then it is time to change the topic and reincarnate.

Just to repeat the story once again. To learn Love…again.


Green Embrace.jpg

Green Embrace. 2016, oil on canvas, 70 x 70 cm

Story Of A Painting – Niburu

Story of this painting started a long time ago. The artwork is still younger than Nibiru, home of the ancient Gods, though.

I started the painting in summer of 2013. The leaves were falling, the grass was wet. It was August. Impossible to protect the paint, trying to mark its first impressions, from the windy weather and tears of trees. I gave up and added (read: left) the leaves where they fell. I liked the result. 

I made the process into a short movie and it was shown at my solo exhibition in 2014 at Pärnu City Gallery in Estonia, together with the painting. After the passage of few years, I decided it is really hard (heavy, in fact!) to put a work of art into a box of glass, and the leaves would fall sooner or later from the painting as they had previously fallen from the tree.

To be in charge of it all, and not wanting to be responsible of the later result (for I could not possibly be responsible for something out of my control), I removed the dry medicine myself. The creator and the exterminator must be one. Shiva was showing up in me with her tiny almighty white fingertips.

As I do not want to waste any energy – all has been for a reason and stays there, where it is supposed to for the moment it is important, the process continued. In 2016 (as it is every year; as long as 23rd of June is eager to meet 24th of June) it was Midsummer’s Eve – a greatly celebrated event in Estonia. We make bonfires. “Lots of dead insects and drunk people all around – terrible event,” described a Buddhist monk. Here it is traditional and you can see outdoor fire everywhere. It looks almost uncivilized, perpetually raw and inviting.

I put my fire on canvas. The leaves were turned into dust that happens when the dead and flames full of life meet. Passions were pictured with violence that can only be seen in art. But still, it was not enough…

I saw a shape I needed to construct. It was a planetary nipple

So in Estonian, for the title, I mixed the two words, “nipple” (“nibu“) and “Nibiru” (the 12th planet in Sumerian literature), so they resulted in the sexy “Niburu”. If anyone comes across to a funny way of thinking, asking, why are artworks expensive, then one should think, how much would it cost – to stare at a piece of painting for three years? What is the worth of your time in this life? And more importantly, how to measure this equivalent in energy?   Because obviously, how we spend our days is not 1:1. 

There is tension in the air, and as all real deed does need preparation time, you could think about a three year long erection… That blows into the interstellar cloud of dust, Nebula. What a pleasure it is to watch, how the process of creation evolves, neverendingly. The spiral of understanding it is.

Have a happy Women’s Day, beloved comrades of mind, most gorgeous creatures in the world, and the others, men, who we live for. May goodwill ambassadors of all planets be blessed.

Niburu. 2016, oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm

Story Of A Painting – Free Bird

One night, I saw a dream. I see a lot of dreams and more often than not, they are not something to be visually captured and repeated (what is painting other than saving a worthwhile event!). Their lives are the ones of dreams that come to an end with million bright ambassadors of morning.

This time, I woke up, knowing I have to paint the scenario. There was a lesson in the story I had to make into remembrance. What I had seen was visually captivating and it had a narrative! Not something that I always fancy (may the painting have beauty of its own, without rational thought nor words).

I was at a seaside by night. It was starting to get lighter. There was the smallest of beams as the moon started to rise. Right then, me and my friends noticed that above the sea level, the crown of the moon that was not yet to be seen, there were seven other moons. The Earth had alltogether eight companions!

What a discovery. At that moment, I felt like Christopher Columbus could have experienced at the few most profound times in his life. The loneliness got all shady and ripped away. There is nothing to be weary about; if and when one of the huge stones gets away, there are always others! How effing many lamps in the nightsky for the human crowd! But when the moon brought its light with it, the whole sky was covered in its highlight, so the fellow companions were not to be noticed anymore. No more bonding. Moral of the story: everything is much more interesting, when shown in half-tones, only parts of the nakedness to be added for the sight… Oh, but as no being can add uncovered truth, we can only layer by layer remove the unnecessary; until we find the peace to live with our outer selves at no questionable rate of seeming for others. This is the flow of life, with rolling open connections of multi-colored honesty in front of your very eyes. This thought sent me right awake.

So I did the moons, but while working, a phoenix wanted to take a leader role. I had to give it to the bird. As it is, while painting in a deep meditative state, I feel like I am just a medium, hands (are there just two?) and eyes to be used, so people can have more joy, beauty and meaning at their sight. I have an outstanding degree of stubbornness, but this I say: sometimes, a man has got to do what a man has got to do, and more often than not, it is letting go …or following through! The extraordinary will happen both ways.

Free Bird
. 2017, oil on canvas, 150 x 120 cm