I see sounds. I hear colors. Not a metaphor — neurology. This series began with twelve paintings, twelve scents, twelve portals into memory. Welcome to my bridge.
Synesthesia (2021 – 2024) Kochubey Mansion & Art Library, Saint Petersburg
I see sounds. I hear colors. It's not a metaphor — it's how my brain works. This project started with that strange, beautiful gift. I wanted to share it. Not describe it. Share it. So I painted twelve works. Each one is a translation of a specific scent — childhood garden, city rain, forest after thunder — into color, rhythm, texture. Then I asked a perfumer to translate them back. Together we created twelve image–scent pairs. You look at the painting. You smell the bottle next to it. And for a moment, you step into my senses.
It's not illustration. It's a portal. We showed it in an old mansion. People walked through the space, from one pair to the next — like stepping into different rooms of someone's memory. Some stayed long. Some were deeply moved. That's when I understood: synesthesia is not a condition. It's a bridge. I'm still working on this series. Now I'm embedding scent directly into some of the paintings — so the smell becomes part of the texture itself.
This exploration of sensory translation later gave birth to my "Spring's Eve Dream" series — where ancient myths meet questions of immortality and technological future. No theory. Just an invitation to feel.