Anya Charikov-Mickleburgh


Fucked Head, which was slowly consumed by Marigolds, oils on linen, 30x40cm

The Hole, oils on linen, 30x40cm

              

Reminiscences of the past have a way of seeping into one’s body and mind: “Can you paint me something
beautiful?”

…I woke up this morning at 5:47 am, got dressed, made a cup of coffee and went outside to the garden. It was cold and silent, but I enjoy thinking through the early mornings’ silence.
She asked me once: “Why don’t you ever paint flowers? Can you paint me flowers?”
I never did it for Her and probably never will for anybody. Maybe I should have done, because I loved
Her?” My thoughts were interrupted by ghastly seagulls’ yell which was uncomfortably disturbing. Why?!

I should stop reacting. The sound was visceral: fearful but with poetic qualities to it.”  Anya C-M


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