I make oil paintings and works on paper that turn memory into imagined places. I do not paint exact locations. I build spaces from recollection, forgetting, and the emotional residue that stays after a place or moment has changed.
My geometry is drawn by hand. I repeat suns, pyramids, mountains, trees, orbs, and architectural forms across different works until they become a personal visual language. The lines keep their human pressure: uneven, warm, and slightly unstable.
This matters to me because images can become too smooth, too mediated, and too fast. Painting gives me a slower analog process. It lets me step away from screens and protect intuition. In a world shaped by automation, I use oil paint as a tactile way to think, remember, and make decisions by hand.
I use strong, saturated colours because they fix themselves quickly in memory. Reds, yellows, blues, and bright contrasts help the paintings feel immediate, like fragments you can recall before you can explain them.
I return often to upward forms: peaks, suns, towers, and spiritual structures. My paintings are not views of real places. They are spiritual landscapes: hopeful scapes where memory can live.
Painting is a simple way to make sure you take notice. It reminds you of something you like, something you are. It is a way to share experiences and communicate in another language.
— Siméon Artamonov
