«Mirror of childhood» (2024) 绘画 由 Pavel Bunas
“艺术”在纸上打印
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光面漆
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Art Print“美术”-在325 g纤维原纸上的光泽处理。
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艺术图片银行-
原创艺术品 (One Of A Kind)
绘画,
油
在帆布上
- 外形尺寸 高度 17.7in, 宽度 17.7in
- 是否含画框 此作品未装裱
- 分类 画作 低于US$5,000 形象艺术 童话
Talented artist Pavel Bunas invites you into a whimsical world of childhood nostalgia and vintage charm. A red-haired girl in a white dress with green accents sits on an ornate floral chair, holding a mirror and lipstick, while two loyal dogs — a Belgian Griffon and a Scottish Terrier — keep her company. The scene, filled with delicate details (scattered dolls, a cosmetic pouch, a pastel-green cabinet), is painted in soft muted tones, evoking a sense of warmth and playful innocence. Perfect for a nursery, bedroom, or a collector’s space seeking timeless elegance.
Inspiration: The artist drew from memories of carefree childhood, where even the smallest objects — like a mother’s makeup items — became treasures in a magical universe.
Une œuvre qui évoque la douceur de l’enfance, idéale pour les intérieurs raffinés.
相关主题
Oil PaintingVintage ArtWhimsical IllustrationChildhood NostalgiaRed-Haired Girl
“Master of Portraits That Breathe” (A Biography Written in Paint)
How a Blue Crow Gifted Me the Universe
At five years old, I drew a bird. Not just any bird—a blue crow on a scrap of wallpaper. My mother cried. Not from delight—she thought I was colorblind. But for me, it became the first lesson: art must stir a storm, even if it’s a hurricane of misunderstandings.
From then on, I never let go of my pencil. Dragons from children’s books, the faces of kindergarten teachers, clouds outside the window — I “digested” them all in sketchbooks like an alchemist seeking the formula for perfection. My parents gave up: at seven, I entered art school, where instead of primers, I studied Rembrandt.
Apprenticeship to the Rhythm of Commuter Trains
Glebovskoe School. Here, I discovered that people are the finest “landscapes.” Every morning, I rode to class in a packed train, turning the carriage into a laboratory. Passengers never suspected their wrinkles, smiles, and gestures were becoming sketches. I absorbed them like a sponge, then blended them with the ancient science of Ninsho-Goku — the art of face-reading practiced by Kyoto’s geishas. My secret? I don’t paint portraits. I decipher them.
— A wrinkle at the temple: the trace of sleepless contemplation.
— A spark in the eyes: an unspoken dream.
— Uneven lipstick: haste before an important meeting.
Teachers threatened expulsion for failing history but turned a blind eye when I exhibited portraits. “These aren’t paintings”, one said. “These are confessions”.
The Academy, or When Masterpieces Become Neighbors
At the Art Academy, I lived on two floors:
1. First floor — the studio, where I copied Vrubel and Serov. Sometimes, I felt the ghosts of masters standing behind me, nodding: “Don’t be afraid. Steal from us. But make it better.”
2. Second floor—reality. Exhibitions where strangers approached and said: “Paint my daughter. She’s gone, but I want her to live here.”
That’s when I understood: my paintings are not decorations. They are bridges between worlds.
_______________
P.S. If you’ve read this far—you’re ready for a dialogue. Let’s create not just a painting — an artifact that will outlive us.
_______________
Your artist,
Pavel Bunas
