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I honestly don’t know why that is.

Why did Kipling write books while serving in Parliament? Conan Doyle was a doctor. Kandinsky studied law. Churchill painted.
Sadly, art and writing almost never pay the bills. But most of the people I’ve mentioned didn’t need the money—and still, they created.

So what drives us to make things that belong to the world of spirit?
Why can’t we just focus on what pays, live calmly, and skip the creative blocks and crises?

Any ideas? Write to me—I’d love to know.

Cheers,

Irena

Not every public space is right for an exhibition. You need to consider why people come to that place in the first place. If they’re there to buy food, chances are they won’t stick around to look at paintings.

Think about who passes by. Where are they heading? Where is the space located? Is it visible from the street, or do people have to go out of their way to find it?

Is there parking nearby, or do visitors have to spend time hunting for a spot? Is the parking expensive?

And who are these people? Kids? Busy professionals? Elderly people dealing with health issues? Are they in the kind of mindset to slow down and really engage with art?

In short: before jumping into a project like this, ask yourself honestly—is this really my target audience?

Because if the answer is no, you may put in a lot of effort to lift the event, but find yourself without a real connection to the visitors. And that’s a shame.

Cheers,

Irena

real life is happening: kids, parents, work, the world around us. Life that needs to be processed and reflected on—because it’s this real life that feeds our future paintings.

I move at a pace that feels right for me. I’m learning to drift between all my tasks. When things feel heavy, I slow down. When I feel energized, I speed up. I don’t shy away from opportunities, but I also don’t chase new challenges if I don’t have the strength for them.

Basically, I just do what needs to be done—and let things unfold as they will.

Oh, and I’m preparing to take part in "Open Houses 2025" next month. This picture will appear on the flyer.

Cheers,

Irena

I read Betty Edwards’ book "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain", where she mentioned that drawing starts with handwriting. No two people’s brains send identical signals, which is why the results are different and the thought processes vary.

But on the other hand, I see what others draw, and I know I can do it too. Yet time and time again, I find myself drawing in a way that feels familiar, natural, comfortable… And so, instead of trying something new, I keep repeating the same approach.

So what can we do? How do we break free from our usual colors and techniques?

I think the key is courage—starting with an attempt to copy. Yes, it requires effort: making a conscious choice to pick a different color instead of reaching for the usual one, beginning in a different way—starting with paint patches instead of pencil outlines, or vice versa. But I’m sure this effort will pay off, planting seeds of innovation on ready ground.

So, shall we experiment together? Who’s in?

Cheers,

Irena

there's truly no limit to what could be included - endless variations of colors, combinations, pigments that could be explored and documented.

But enough is enough. One must know when to conclude. Tomorrow I begin tying up loose ends.

So, for anyone interested in pre-ordering my "Watercolor Cookbook," please leave me a note here, and I'll notify you when the book becomes available for purchase.

Cheers,

Irena

most of the work happens behind the scenes, both before and after the exhibition, invisible to the untrained eye. And during the event itself, you’re like a ceremonial figure, strolling around with an air of importance among the visitors.

I discovered that being a curator means being a metronome—keeping track of every stage of preparation, making sure everything happens at the right time and pace. It means being a walking computer, juggling dozens of details, texts, and human connections. Being a curator means staying in the shadows while shining the spotlight on just one person—the artist and their art.

Cheers,

Irena

it turned out to be "mission impossible", while Ilana continued on her path.

That’s why I am so proud of my friendship with her. To me, she embodies unwavering determination and sheer willpower.

If you think I’m exaggerating, try painting with Chinese ink on rice paper, and you’ll understand immediately what does it mean.

And now, as fate would have it, I find myself curating her exhibition. I am grateful that Ilana is my partner in this first curatorial experience—steadfast and determined as always.

Truly, fate works in mysterious ways.

Cheers,

Irena

am I interested in a path that has no goal? After all, a result is essentially a product of defining a goal.

What result do I want to achieve at the end of my path?

And what does "path" mean to you?

Cheers,

Irena

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I'm happy you're here in my little virtual space, where I find rest from life's rapid race, from work, and from the challenges of reality.

Here, I explore the magical world of colors, brushes, and paper, as well as everything connected to them. I draw when drawing comes naturally, write when writing flows, and show paintings when I feel I have something to share. Here, I'm not rushing anywhere, not competing with anyone, and not hurrying anyone. I'm simply exploring the world of watercolors with small steps. And I invite you not to rush either. I'll be glad if you join me on this journey of mine.

Cheers,

Irena