2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 80 × 100 cm
Available
The painting looks at the gap between wanting and doing: to accept, to ask, to trust, to be the first to move. The posture of the bodies says they are ready. The hands say they are waiting.
Flat colour, scraped paint and distorted proportions keep the scene tense rather than comfortable. The question in the title is addressed to the viewer as much as to the figures.

Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 80 × 100 cm
Available
Under One Sky explores a paradox: we try to control everything, yet every night we close our eyes and trust the world completely.
Five figures sit close together, stripped of titles, roles and armour. Their faces are blank, their bodies lean toward one another. Above them hangs a shanyrak, the round opening of a Kazakh yurt that lets in the sky. Here it glows like a shared window.
In sleep, differences of status, decisions and circumstance stop mattering. What remains is vulnerability to hardship and to time, and a trust we rarely admit to. The painting asks what is left of us when the defences are down, and whether we are, in the end, parts of one collective soul.

Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 80 × 100 cm
Available
To a child, parents are gods. They are the whole world. They are the whole law.

In this painting, a small girl walks between two towering figures. Their legs are like columns. She holds a hand and looks up.

Up there, a whole world is waiting for her. Her future.

The grass is green. The sky is flat blue. It is an ordinary Sunday, a day of rest. For her, the gods have come down to walk beside her.

I painted it in acrylic with loose, scratchy brushwork. The colors are bright. The figures are distorted on purpose. The frame cuts off the tops of the figures, so the scene belongs to anyone who remembers holding a grown-up's hand.

It is part of my ongoing series about childhood, safety and the people who stand between a child and the world.of safety we carry from childhood.

Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 70 × 70 cm
Available

The shanyrak is the crown of a Kazakh yurt, the circle at the very top that lets in light and air. It is a symbol of home, family and continuity, passed down from generation to generation.

In this painting, a round table becomes that circle. Figures gather around it like rays around a center, sharing tea and food. Their faces are left blank on purpose: they could be anyone, and each of them belongs here.

The painting is about accepting every human experience and the right to be yourself, no matter how different we are. About freedom of expression, and about finding love in our hearts for everyone. Bold blues, warm yellows and a bright pink floor fill the space with energy and warmth, so the gathering feels both lively and safe.

Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 100 × 120 cm
Available

Next to our parents, we are always children. This painting is about three generations: my grandfather, my mother and I, side by side on one bench.
My grandfather, in his blue jacket, is the calm, solid anchor. Beside him, even my mother lets go: she sits with her legs tucked, chatting happily, not at all grown-up. I am between them, in a jumpsuit, my head floating somewhere in the clouds. With those older than us close by, we are allowed to be light and unserious. Pigeons gather at our feet: nowhere to hurry, just sitting together.
Acrylic on canvas, with loose, expressive brushwork, saturated colour and stylized figures. A painting about family and the sense of safety we carry from childhood.

Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 120 × 100 cm
A lively evening in good company, the kind where you lose track of time. Six figures leap and dance with their arms around each other, high above a table still set with glasses and plates, as if the conversation has lifted them off the ground.

This painting is about the lightness of a moment when talk carries you along, when you laugh, feel joy and connection, and feel part of something bigger. It is also about what I miss most right now.

Bold pink, deep blue and warm yellow, with textured, energetic brushwork, hold the movement and warmth of that feeling.

I hope your life is full of people with whom you can feel exactly this. And if it isn't yet, I hope you find them.
Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 120 × 100 cm · Available
People seemed to drop by more easily back then. Someone would come over, someone else would bring a friend, and before you knew it, the room would be full of people.

I still remember being a little girl, sitting on the floor with my hands sinking into the thick pile of the carpet, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and laughter. I remember my mum moving back and forth across the room and my dad’s big, warm smile.

I don’t remember a single face among all those guests. I’m not even sure I ever saw any of them again. Maybe they were people my parents knew, or perhaps distant relatives.

Sometimes I wonder where they all ended up. What became of their lives? What did they dream of, what did they love, what did they lose? Do they remember those evenings the way I do?

We so often feel like the main characters in our own lives, but I’ve always been curious about what happened in all the other films. What became of the people who once brushed shoulders with our memories?


Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 120 × 100 cm · Available
A warm painting about memories we may never have lived, yet somehow feel close to us. About the places we carry within ourselves, the past we remember and the stories we imagine could have been ours.

It is also a reflection on the present: where we are now, where we are heading, and how the memories we hold shape the direction we choose to take.

The colours are a reminder that the world is open to us in all its beauty, full of possibilities waiting to be discovered. We just have to choose our direction.

Minor manufacturer irregularity in the back stretcher bar; no effect on the canvas.

Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).

2026 · Acrylic on canvas · 120 × 180 cm
Available

We believe we can see each other — that we know who stands before us, what they want and what they dream of. But perhaps all we see are our own projections: our experiences, expectations and fears.

We can sit side by side and remain infinitely far apart. We can know someone for years and never see who they truly are.

Here, figures gather around a table, close enough to touch, yet each face is hidden behind a hand or lost in thought.

True closeness begins when we let another person be themselves. And first we must accept ourselves: allow ourselves to dream, to make mistakes, to be imperfect — and only then can we truly see another.

Part of the series "Yours and Mine, Hands and Feet" (2026).