I am an enthusiastic guy born on a Sunday at 8 sharp.
I remember that I was 5 when I started watching my mom weaving a carpet. I was fascinated by the colors; by the wool getting colored with substances or natural colors – onion, mistletoe and other herbs. I was often tempted to weave but my mother never allowed it.
Then, I took my crayons and reproduced off a pencil box a picture of 2 sparrows in front of a blackboard. The birds were pupils.
Later on when my mom saw the drawing, she proudly showed it to my dad. He raised his eyebrows in a sign of surprise, and asked again if I had done the drawing. I nodded and the old man congratulated me.
Time passed and when I
That’s how I met Lae Krasovski, may he rest in peace, who used to explain to me in between 2 sips of vodka how to combine colors, how to prop the canvas on the frame, how to fit the proportions. And the vodka was good! Wine was another issue and the discussions were different – how to see only what are you interested in and how to add that “quelque chose” to make it perfect.
Then there was a
class, a collaboration, a workshop experience with my
professors and friends, artists Ion
Ţarălungă who loved aviators and sailors and the subjects related to them,
Doru Rotaru a refined colorist, a
great master that adorned the Cotroceni and
And, with a little bit of will and a little bit of practice and a lot of soul put into it, my hand started going by itself, intuitive and with guts.
If I feel my model (portrait, flowers, landscapes) I move fast, the brush thunders, and the painting starts to take shape. It doesn’t matter if I use the brush, the knife or the finger. All that it matters is that I get what I want. And usually I get it. I tried and I liked all themes, portraits, urban and rural landscapes, flowers, nudes etc.
Portrait is something
special – you have to feel the character beyond resemblance. It doesn’t matter
if his nose is longer or shorter, if the face is longer… the model has to
recognize itself without making it look younger. I was painting in
As I think about it
now, I was again in
When the good weather
starts I like to go to the beach, at a lake near
The lake is in a plain area and is sometimes swampy. In these areas, a yellow, beautiful, orchid like iris grows in May.
I picked some flowers but they can’t live in warmth; so they die in a few hours. The first time I realized it, I tried to put it on the canvas. The first time I kind of failed but the second time… I didn’t stop till I’ve done it. I was possessed. They live and breath. They look superb.
I don’t get tired; I like to paint; I’m interested only in the painting; only at the end I can start thinking about something else like bread or wine.