It is not that easy to admire something in an instant escape from the daily fuss, to take the paintbrush and rush up to the easel... Forget about everything, dip into the world where there is just me and my thoughts that want to get poured down upon the white canvas. The canvas receives what has been living inside me, what is uneasy and longed for. Creativity... that makes one fall in love with the scent of oil ink and the realm of the colours, that can create itself. When I have the brush in my hand, I do not entirely separate from the reality, it is always there besides me. Due to it I experience the mixing, experimenting in my paintings. Its hidden presence makes me want to say something to people, say something now... That is why paintings do not always emanate joy. Sometimes they weep, cry for help. However, they live together with me.
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