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

…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