Besarab Iryna

I’m a painter currently living in County Limerick, Ireland, where I find constant

inspiration in the changing light, quiet landscapes, and gentle pace of life.

Since childhood, I’ve always been drawn to visual expression. I used to paint

constantly, feeling overwhelmed by the beauty around me—the way a moment could

glow and disappear so quickly. I wanted to find a way to hold onto it, to make it last.

For me, painting became a way to preserve something fragile: a way to share what I

see and feel, so others can hold it too—not just as a memory, but as something real and

present.

In 2023, I created the “State of Soul” series, a body of work exploring the emotional

depth and complexity of being human. Through posture, gesture, and expression, I

tried to capture the invisible—what lives inside us, quietly or in chaos. The series was

deeply personal, and it received growing recognition in 2024 through several group

exhibitions.

As that chapter unfolded, something began to shift. My focus moved gently outward,

from the inner world of people to the quiet presence of the natural world around me. I

started to notice how flowers, leaves, and stems could carry the same weight of

emotion as a face or a body. The subtle tilt of a daisy, the tension in a closed bud, the

way wildflowers lean toward light—all of it felt like a language I already knew. Each

plant held a kind of emotion, a whisper of a story, a posture of its own. I began to see

nature not just as subject matter, but as a continuation of the emotional world I was

already painting. Where once I explored human vulnerability through body language, I

now found that same vulnerability echoed in petals, branches, and tangled vines.

There’s something deeply moving about the way nature expresses itself without effort

or intention—how it thrives, fades, returns. I find myself drawn to those cycles, to the

quiet endurance of the natural world. In flowers, I see not just beauty, but resilience,

softness, and strength. Each bloom becomes a metaphor for something felt but

unspoken.

Every part of my process is done by hand, from the very beginning to the final layer of

paint. I build each wooden frame myself, stretch and gesso the canvas, and prepare

the surface with care. This full involvement grounds me in the work—it makes each

piece not just a painting, but something entirely my own, shaped from start to finish

with intention and presence.

I paint primarily in oil, using expressive brushstrokes and a language of abstraction and

movement. My work often hovers between representation and impression—never too

fixed, always in motion. I’m not trying to depict things exactly as they are, but rather as

they feel: loose forms, rich texture, layers of light and color that suggest rather than

define. There’s freedom in that space, and I let it guide me.

My process is rooted in small, passing moments—a flower on the windowsill, a roadside

bouquet, a piece of fruit placed gently on a table. These fragments of everyday life

carry something fleeting, and through paint, I try to give them weight and

permanence. Painting, for me, is a quiet act of care. It’s a way to make space for

stillness in a loud world—to hold something tender, to listen closely, and to offer others

that same moment of pause. My paintings are less about what we see and more about

what we sense: the hum beneath the silence, the emotion tucked inside the ordinary. I

hope they invite others to slow down, soften, and see again—with wonder.