Recent Artwork

Horses have always been among the most gracious and compelling animals for me. I took every opportunity to draw and paint them, but my regular and more attentive study of horses began in 2015, when I was given access to a friend’s horse farm. Even though I have never owned a horse myself, I gradually formed friendships with several of them. From powerful Percherons to delicate miniature horses, each revealed a distinct personality and character that I had never fully understood before such close contact.

This painting portrays the most powerful horse I have ever encountered — Stampede, a five-year-old Percheron. No photograph can truly convey the scale and strength of this animal. Despite their enormous size, these horses communicate with people in a respectful and gentle way. Historically they were bred for demanding work — pulling artillery during the Napoleonic wars and hauling heavy timber in the forests — and were once absolutely irreplaceable.

The shining coat, the pronounced muscles, and the calm, graceful movement of this horse made a deep impression on me. I never tire of observing horses or of translating their presence into paint. This work is part of a larger series in which I explore their form, strength, and spirit.

Percherons often appear very dark — deep brown, almost black — yet in changing light their coats reveal unexpected colours. This painting is not only a portrait of a horse, but also my interpretation of colour and light at a particular moment in the day and season.

In the silent weight of his presence, I felt what true power without aggression can be.

Chouchou and Romeo are two miniature horses I have known since they were foals. Over the years we formed a deep bond. They run toward me nickering, and we walk and run together in the fields where they live. I am especially mesmerized by the way sunset light shines through their flowing manes. Chouchou’s dark mane reveals shifting tones of colour, while Romeo’s white mane glows against the sun. In winter, with snow on the ground, these impressions become even more intense.

Although they are small horses, their joy and energy make them appear full-sized to me. This painting grew from an unexpected experiment that reminded me how powerful memory and movement can be — and how inspiration can come from anywhere.

Modigliani has always been one of my favourite artists. I am drawn to the simplicity of his forms and his refined choice of colours. His figures often remind me of Byzantine iconography — a comparison that may seem surprising, even shocking, to many people, but as a specialist in the history and philosophy of traditional icon painting, I find it completely natural. In both, three-dimensional subjects are presented in a non-academic way, simplified yet deeply expressive. Despite the apparent flatness, I still perceive real characters and the presence of lived experience.

This still life was born almost by coincidence. One day I noticed a book with reproductions of Modigliani’s paintings on my table, surrounded by everyday objects. The contrast between the painted images and the tangible reality of the teapot and fruit immediately impressed me. I wanted to explore this dialogue between representation and interpretation. I painted the teapot with almost hyperrealistic attention, while the fruit become a transition — moving from classical observation toward stylization, gently approaching Modigliani’s poetic language.

In this quiet arrangement, the ordinary ritual of tea becomes a meeting point between two ways of seeing the world.

This trail along Spencer Creek near Webster Falls is a place I have visited many times since the days of my first studio in Greensville. Most of the time it is very quiet. When I walk down toward the stream, I feel as if I am entering a different world. In a short time I forget about the presence of people who are, in fact, not far away.

On some misty days the trail offers unexpected encounters — birds, squirrels, or sometimes a deer. In this painting, one of those silent meetings appears.

Near the stream the light is filtered by thick trees and sheltered by the rocks of the Escarpment. The colours are subdued yet rich and saturated. Being there brings a calm, attentive state of mind. Each turn reveals new perspectives. The place feels familiar and new at the same time.

Sometimes the quiet presence of nature feels like a companion on the path.

Watch video with paintings inspired by Webster’s Falls https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_P3M4wNPzY

Christie Lake Conservation Area is one of the natural jewels around Dundas. There is a lake and a wide park where people come to rest in the sun, walk, and spend quiet time outdoors.

I painted this landscape in early autumn. It was not crowded, but a few people were sitting in the deep shade of those enormous trees. What attracted me most were the bright colours appearing softly in the misty distance — they became the main inspiration for this work.

The painting was done on site. Later in the studio I had to remove a few flies that had become trapped in the fresh oil paint.

With the frontal composition I wanted to show the depth of the space and the impressive scale of the trees. The small figure brings life to the scene and captures a fleeting moment in the history of this peaceful place.

Sometimes a landscape feels timeless, even while life quietly passes through it

This painting was inspired by a stormy day at Burlington Beach. The rough water and heavy sky gave the landscape an intense, almost theatrical presence. The shoreline was nearly empty; only two small figures appeared in the distance. From afar, their gestures seemed animated, as if they were engaged in a serious discussion or even an argument.

Their silent exchange felt deeply in tune with the unsettled mood of the weather, and this correspondence became the starting point of the painting. The landscape itself appeared dramatic, almost threatening, yet no rain ever came — it was only a restless, windy day. Perhaps the conversation between the couple was not as serious as it seemed, but that remains a mystery.

The dark tones of the water, the luminous foam breaking on the shore, and the shifting colours of the sky created an atmosphere that was both powerful and slightly menacing.

Sometimes the wind carries emotions across the landscape, and we read our own stories in the distance.