The way of art is misterious stream from infinity possibilities into facts. This is no words, no doubts, and no interrupts. Even if an artist stops the process don`t, it is breathing, moving… borning.
*more pictures below…
I feel the seed idea itself, but this is no words to describe it. From one source it flows, it contains colors, movement and sound one time; and this is no differencies between it. We have no true words to describe it in common language, because it needs a special words and language such as Sanscrit. And even in Sanscrit this is no 100% congruence between a word and a heart of idea itself. Light, sound, color and movement exists without a time, without a reason as waves of an ocean. It go on and go on. And then it breaks into small ideas as waves breaks on underwater stones. And it covers me the same way ocean waters covers seashore.
And then I transmit it into different objects. You can see several here:
Feeling it I can understand many things the same tims, this is my base all time I work. As it floats sometimes I can`t breath and must stop breathing to feel and transmit it better, even to control my body and mind. But this is the moments of soul breathing as I jumpe from a stone into green clear waters of corfian sea… And next moment I can breath and paint, and then the cycle repeats.
That thing made VanGogh and many painters crazy. They was poor guys… and they drowned. In contradistinction from them I use Yoga, Pranayama and logical discipline to keep my mind healthy and live human life… and feel the Universal Source, and then paint. Trying to fix such fine quality, the identity of movement, colors, sounds and light, I invented my style and my new technigue.
After several hours, sometimes 10-16, I can stop and see the result.