Love makes a family

Lovemakes a famil, that's the message of the painting above, a painting called "The family" that is on display at Nottara theatre in Bucharest, being part of a beautiful art exhibition.

The tears of liberty

This painting I've made yesterday is about freedom vs the crisis of democracy we are facing today, about Donald Trump and Mike Pence, about how democracy and human rights are under threat, even in the USA

The purifying flame

This painting is about the flame, the purifying fire and all the dark spheres of our negative emotions being thrown inside it

The memory of me and her

In my empty world I walk alone, thinking of her. The memory of our love is still there in my mind. I am so lonely now and all I want is to have the power to love again, all I want is her next to me, loving me. All I want is to be hers.

Dreaming by the sea, watercolor painting

She has violet flowers in her hair ans she is watching the sunrise over the sea, dreaming of someone she is missing.
This is my newest watercolor painting

Blossom mood - New spring painting

The poem below, written by Sappho more than 2000 years ago has inspired me to paint this

This is my song of maidens dear to me.
Eranna, a slight girl I counted thee,
When first I looked upon thy form and face,
Slim as a reed, and all devoid of grace.
But stately stature, grace and beauty came
Unto thee with the years — O, dost not shame
For this, Eranna, that thy pride hath grown
Therewith? Alas for thee ! I have not known
One beauty ever of more scornful mien,
As though thou wert of all earth's daughters queen!
Mnasidica is comelier, perchance,
Than my Gyrinna — ah, but sweetly rings
Gyrinna's matchless voice ! In rapture-trance
I listen, listen, while Gyrinna sings.
Hero of Gyara is fleet of foot
As fawns, and as light-footed in the dance,
The dance taught by the measures of my lute.
Ever-impassioned Gorgo! — is it strange
That I grow weary of the change on change
Of thine adored ones? — of thy rhapsodies
O'er each new girlfriend, while the old love dies?
Joy to thee, daughter of a princely race,
For thy last dear one! Lie in her embrace —
Till shines a new star on thy raptured eyes!
Fonder of maids thou art, I trow, than she.
The ghost who nightly steal young girls, to be
In Hades of her woeful company.
This is my fair girl-garden: sweet they grow —
Rose, violet, asphodel and lily's snow;
And which the sweetest is, I do not know;
For rosy arms and starry eyes are there.
Honey-sweet voices and cheeks passing fair.
And these shall men, I ween, remember long;
For these shall bloom for ever in my song.