Canvas 40×30 cm, linen, oil, 2018
Stripes
The zebra here is not an animal. It’s you. It’s everyone. Stripes are not just a pattern. They are your days: black — when everything is falling apart, gray — when you’re just going through the motions, red — when you’re burning, yellow — when you breathe for the first time, white — when you realize that everything can start anew. Time doesn’t stand still. It flows like a palette knife stroke — from left to right, from shadow to light. But the most important part is at the bottom. There, where the last stripe ends, you take the brush yourself. And you decide: what color will come next.