A few months ago, one of my relatives shared some of her childhood memories with me. It was something like: We were children like everybody else, we were noisy, naughty, constantly fighting, screaming, etc. You were different, always amazed by nature, quiet and shy, while observing little nature object or big, beautiful landscapes. I guess that describes the way I see things—especially the tiny ones. I must say I’m still amazed by nature, but more important for me now is to understand how and why we influence nature, how we feel nature, whether we are still part of it, or whether we are something that destroys it.

My closer look—these macro images—shows nature from a different perspective, not only in the variety of colors and objects, but how these objects look almost from inside. Observing doesn’t make you a creator, an artist, therefore I still think of myself as a dilettante. That’s why colors are very important for me in painting. Artificial recreating, repeating of the whole spectrum of colors we can see, is my task while painting—combinations of colors, all of the nuances of blue, for example, the shapes that they may get in my imagination and on the white canvas. This feeling—to put down patiently stroke after stroke, to combine and reorganize the world of colors and shapes—this feeling calms me. And when I take a look at the finished painting and lose myself there, I know: this process of recreating is about to begin in this very moment. The moment of watching the work of art.