Elena Popova

Your work often explores light, rhythm, and silence. What role does silence play in your creative process?

I almost always paint with music on. I need it to begin. But even when it plays, something inside me goes quiet. Thoughts drift away, and only the feeling remains. I dissolve into the painting. I stop being a person and become whatever I’m painting. It’s not about relaxing — it’s about giving everything. Each work takes something from me: anxiety, tenderness, exhaustion, warmth. Afterwards, I often feel empty. But in a good way. Everything I had in me — it’s now on the canvas.

How do you choose the specific landscapes or seascapes you depict? Are they based on real places or inner visions?

Sometimes it’s a real place I’ve seen — the sea, a tree, a stretch of coast. But even then, I never copy. I always paint what it felt like. For example, “Summer Air” came from one hot, still day where even the wind seemed to pause. I didn’t think about the composition — I just remembered what it felt like to stand there and just exist. Sometimes I don’t even know what a painting will be about until I start. And then suddenly, a long-buried feeling shows up. And that’s the real subject.

Elena Popova | The Sea Remembers The Light | 2025

Many of your paintings seem to breathe — there’s a palpable stillness and depth in them. How do you achieve that sensation on canvas?

I don’t really plan it. I just don’t like when a painting feels crowded. It needs space — air. Somewhere the eye can rest. Somewhere the light can pass through. I always leave part of the work open — not empty, just quiet. In “Where the Ocean Breathes” I kept softening the layers, pulling back, adjusting the light. Sometimes I look at a spot and realize — this needs nothing more. And strangely, that “nothing” is what makes the painting feel alive.

You mentioned painting is your way of listening to the world. Can you share a moment when painting helped you understand something wordless?

Yes. I was painting “The Sea Remembers” — with no concept in mind, just a pull toward water. Waves, some reflection — simple elements. But while working, I suddenly felt this deep sense of missing something. Not a person. Just a quiet state I had once felt and lost. I could never have said it out loud. But when the painting was done, I felt lighter. As if the canvas helped me feel it all the way through — and let it go.

Elena Popova | Summer Air | 2025

What inspires your use of color, especially in depicting water and sky?

I don’t plan my palette. Color comes when the feeling becomes clear. If there’s tension — the color turns heavier. If it’s calm — it becomes lighter, almost transparent. In “Island Breathing” I was painting ease — and the color turned airy, almost green, like water’s shadow. But in “The Sea Remembers” the tones feel deep and weighted. Like holding your breath. I don’t think about theory when I paint. I think about how the sea breathes.

You work with both oil and watercolor. How do you decide which medium best suits a particular idea or emotion?

If I feel quiet or light inside — I reach for watercolor. You can’t control it much. One stroke — and it’s done. Oil is different. It lets you come back, change things, think slower. With “The Sea Remembers”, I kept stepping away. Came back days later, softened the tones, shifted the light. But “Island Breathing” came out in one go. I just knew what I wanted to say — and didn’t want to overwork it. Sometimes the blank canvas tells me what it needs. I just have to listen.

Elena Popova | Island Breathing | 2025

How do you define the difference between what is “seen” and what is “felt” in art?

What we see — that’s form. But what we feel — that’s in the pauses between forms. The silence between brushstrokes. You can look at a boat and think: “Yes, that’s a boat.” But sometimes, you feel something else in it — loneliness, stillness, your own memory. I don’t paint to show. I paint to transmit. If someone looks at a painting and stops for a moment — something touched them. What exactly? I don’t know. And I don’t need to. Let it be theirs.