The Black Pearl

I am painting. I'm Prometheus, who brought the fire to the Art. I've been burning for a thousand years and finally burned out the Art. The charred corpses of the canvas are lying on the ground, leaving behind the remains of the colored surfaces to the sun, rain and wind. Burned out place and underneath ashes – fire still glimmers. It beckons new heroes to the feat. A group of curious one is gathering next to it. As in the glorious "Matrix" people moved to the unerground, closer to the core, where it's still warm. People came to the painting, and he says that today he is not ready to meet the guests, that he just painted over Today with one color, for example, dark blue, like Yves Klein's. Today is Klein's day. Who doesn't like it or just can't see the blue color – you can come tomorrow, tomorrow the gray minimalists will come. And every day the same again and again.

From the beginning I promised my series "Black Pearl" to make it be non-painting and kept the word. Under each layer of paint on these canvases, there are many intentions to draw a picture, but they are all denied the right to be showen up. Another attempt to create a song of art. Sometimes I want to paint too much.

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