It happened in the summer of 2020. That summer I did not see the sea for the first time. For the first time I did not go anywhere from their city. For the first time, I never dreamed of anything. And for the first time I thought about what summer means to me.
It's not just another season of the year. Summer is certain images, warm memories, which, as a rule, originate from childhood. The carnal beauty of the opposite sex. The endless days of summer vacation. Expectation at the beginning and disappointment at the end.
I remembered my first love. I remember her in the summer, not in the winter. To be honest, I don’t remember at all that I loved someone in winter! :) I remembered the feeling of freedom that a child has when he rides a bicycle. And yes, that feeling of happiness when the first love sits at the same time in your rear trunk. I remembered the sparkling indifferent summer sea. So indifferent and so alluring with its unknown. At that time, the guys and I dreamed of swimming across it and talked about what could be with us on the other side. A little older, I remember a beautiful stranger on the shore. I could lie close to her for hours and days and revel in the beauty of the moment. It didn't look that way at the time, though. Rather, it was an endless dialogue with myself on the topic: How can I get to know her? Do I need to get acquainted? What if it ruins everything?
Each of us has our own memories of our summer. And each of us loves him in his own way. But I think that for the majority it is as warm and velvety as it is for me.
My series "Dreams of summer" are my personal dreams about him. The images that come out the most when I think about it.
And I will be very pleased if our dreams coincide.
acrylic, oil
3 Artist Reviews
£634.71
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It happened in the summer of 2020. That summer I did not see the sea for the first time. For the first time I did not go anywhere from their city. For the first time, I never dreamed of anything. And for the first time I thought about what summer means to me.
It's not just another season of the year. Summer is certain images, warm memories, which, as a rule, originate from childhood. The carnal beauty of the opposite sex. The endless days of summer vacation. Expectation at the beginning and disappointment at the end.
I remembered my first love. I remember her in the summer, not in the winter. To be honest, I don’t remember at all that I loved someone in winter! :) I remembered the feeling of freedom that a child has when he rides a bicycle. And yes, that feeling of happiness when the first love sits at the same time in your rear trunk. I remembered the sparkling indifferent summer sea. So indifferent and so alluring with its unknown. At that time, the guys and I dreamed of swimming across it and talked about what could be with us on the other side. A little older, I remember a beautiful stranger on the shore. I could lie close to her for hours and days and revel in the beauty of the moment. It didn't look that way at the time, though. Rather, it was an endless dialogue with myself on the topic: How can I get to know her? Do I need to get acquainted? What if it ruins everything?
Each of us has our own memories of our summer. And each of us loves him in his own way. But I think that for the majority it is as warm and velvety as it is for me.
My series "Dreams of summer" are my personal dreams about him. The images that come out the most when I think about it.
And I will be very pleased if our dreams coincide.
acrylic, oil
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