Things happen…

Time goes by and when one has paintings in the corner of the studio, at a visible place, it might happen that the temptation comes to add something. Again and again.

Until an old work becomes a new painting.
The glorious moment of satisfaction comes,

when there is no such temptation anymore.
Everything is perfect.

The Boy With A Yellow Ball

(previously Eye Of The Sun, for example)

2017, oil on linen

100 x 120 cm

The Boy With A Yellow Ball

The Boy With A Yellow Ball. 2017, oil on canvas, 100 x 120 cm

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

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