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Recovering after narcissistic abuse, I went no contact with the toxic person.  The painting process helped me to overcome the situation I was trapped in for a period of time and will help to ignore the stalking and the smear campaign of the narcissist. Art is a sanctuary and saved me not only from the toxicity in my micro world but also keeps me well balanced in our shaking world full of hatred and clashes .

Moving to America, I experienced a long period of changes and challenges. A period of observation, accumulation of ideas and new knowledge. It was time to put the line of lost and gained, to step aside and listen to the voice of my soul . I have always observed the others but rarely -  myself ( especially in the  selfportrait , only two by now ). My time of transformation is reflected in the painting The Silence. The portrait is my favorite genre but except The Silence and a few impressionistic sketches, I was not capable to paint humans for an year.

During the toxic period, I painted a dry black landscape, without realizing...I reflected the narcissist’s bitterness . This was the point I felt - I want my fuel back. And I started painting abstract and semi abstract in acrylic without thinking much, like a child, using mainly raw colors, sometimes squeezed directly on the canvas/paper. I reached intuitively to the spiritual symbolism of the butterfly and soon a real metamorphosis happened in my life .

I started painting on black paper, feeling the space like a blind person. That thing was there , ready to help me. In the beginning I did not care much for the aesthetic result . The work was primitive, it was chemistry - the pleasant feeling the paint and the colors sucked the toxins from me , feeding me with joy. Red, yellow, pink, blue... I was like someone who learns to walk and talk again.

In the beginning, it was not exactly the butterfly but the moth . Some moths remind me a mask, hiding a human, like the one in the classic Japanese horror movie Onibaba . The unremovable mask,  accreted to the skin forever. We live in scary times now, in a sham world of twisted lies and wolves in sheep’s clothing. The lying reaches Homeric sizes, becomes natural like breathing, a perverted way of living. The thief yells : “ Catch the thief! ”, “ the villain plays the victim so well “, the psychopath questions your sanity.

The Moth Hour became the title of several paintings included in The Comeback series. The hour when we are vulnerable and the moths become active but also the hour of the most fantastic dreams.
Painting and associating, slowly leaving the black , I unsubscribed myself from the narcisist's reality .  In some way, like the moth, I was on the path to the light too.


Everything and anybody appears in our life on purpose . The episode with the narcissist was only a sign, alarming: it is time to start reprogramming myself and to see the bigger picture - the temporary alienation from myself.  I was the one who drained my own fuel long before meeting the toxic individual , fearing to be authentic , as a person and as an artist . That’s why the narcissist entered my picture. They would never cross paths with the girl with a soldier’s haircut, bloody red lipstick and military shoes, restless heart and calm confidence, in dark Sofia in the 90ies. The girl, capable to dream big and stand for herself . How did I become an energetic match to a toxic person?  I wanted the old flame in my heart, in New York in 2019. My strong rational side usually sabotages the creativity but maybe for first time, instinctively, I allowed the flow of another kind of energy. Feeling the awakening of primal forces, I broke my cocoon and flew off with doubled strength. Painting, I was having fun and felt bonded to my work again, even stronger.  I made it through the art, it came full circle. The most important - I was ready and capable to paint people again. I finished the year with a mixed media portrait : The Guardian .

In the summer of 2019 I started reading Marcel Proust - an amazing experience,  a return to the real homeland of my soul. I felt the final reconnection with myself, the healing of the cells, the juices of imagination, the forgotten joys. I started to dream again, mysterious and provoking dreams, like layers of heaviness flew away.  A beginning of a new journey .

2020. Working on several fictional portraits .  I am thinking over a new series dedicated to great women in history, art and science . Yes, Gerhard Richter, ” Art is the highest form of hope. “