My path in art did not begin like the others. I never learned to draw primitive shapes—cubes, vases, or still lifes. From my very first days, I was magnetically drawn to the most complex energetic code in this world: the human face. I mastered portraiture frighteningly fast, without the agonizing effort that academic students endure. I painted countless faces.
But one day, I stopped doing it completely and forever.
The reason is simple, but to many, it will sound terrifying: my brush alters destiny.
The Phenomenon of Disappearance and Purification
For a long time, I painted my friends and acquaintances. And soon, I noticed a chilling pattern. The moment I finished a portrait of someone close to me, they would vanish from my reality without a trace. Years, even entire decades could pass without our paths crossing. But if I decided to paint them a second time—they would return.
Later, when I managed to speak with these people, I heard the exact same story. During the precise period I was painting their face—regardless of whether they knew about it or not—their lives were turned upside down. Everything old, negative, toxic, and stagnant collapsed overnight. They went through a brutal crisis that cleared the space for an entirely new life. My portrait acted as a ritual of total purification and a reboot of destiny. I started testing this on strangers whom I could observe from a distance. The result was identical—their realities fractured and transformed.
A Dangerous Experiment with Surrealism
My mind always demanded answers, so I went further. I began to experiment. I made the portraits of real people more complex: I delved into surrealism, altered shapes, distorted eyes, and added hidden symbols. I wanted to see what would happen.
And then I saw the dark side of my power. The changes that crashed down upon these people ceased to be positive. By introducing distortions into their visual code on the canvas, I was injecting uncontrollable chaos into their actual destinies.
Relinquishing Power and Forging New Entities
In that moment, I realized the scale of this colossal responsibility. I had reached the highest professional level in capturing the human face, yet I voluntarily tied my own hands.
I am neither a titan nor a deity to play with the lives of others for the sake of amusement or art. Every person has their own path, and everyone must decide for themselves when they are ready for global shifts. To ensure I would never again disrupt the fate lines of the living, I transitioned to creating my own characters. Now, I paint composite archetypes—entities in my own style that live exclusively in my world and are untethered to any living person on Earth. This is safe for everyone.
The Condition for Return
Will I ever return to portraits? Will I ever paint a living person again?
Perhaps. But it will never be just painting again. It will be an overwhelmingly powerful, radical ritual. I will only take on a real face in two cases: if I intuitively feel that I am obligated to save this person, or if they can prove to me that they are truly ready for their old world to burn to ashes for the sake of a new beginning.
Until then, my brushes belong solely to the entities born from my mind.