I walk into my studio, barefoot, with a half-burned candle and zero plan,
and I paint the sea.
Not the postcard sea.
The real one — the one that rolls through your chest when you can’t catch your breath.
The one that says: “you don’t have to fix anything — just float.”
I paint movement, waves, flight.
Not because I’m escaping,
but because sometimes, the only honest thing I can do is let the brush move the way my heart would
if it had wings.
If you've stood in front of one of my blue paintings and felt something in your stomach —
that was on purpose.
I want you to feel less alone.
You, with the sharp mind and heavy phone.
You, with taste, and pressure, and too many tabs open.
You deserve more than curated rage and clever home decor.
You deserve something alive.
So I’m inviting you —
to come to my gallery in Netanya.
Not to buy (unless your wall is begging) — but to breathe.
To look.
To remember that beauty is still being made, even when the headlines forget.
This year, I promise to keep painting what feels.
And if you need a place to stare at something beautiful until the world calms down —
you know where to find me.
With love and saltwater,
Nikita
