People often ask me how I know a painting is finished. My answer is simple: when the emotion finally finds its home. Because I am a self-taught artist, I do not follow traditional rules. Instead, my process is a delicate dance between raw intuition and structured order.

My workshop in Baku is my sanctuary. When I stand in front of a giant, blank canvas, I do not sketch or plan. I grab oil pastels and oil sticks and move as fast as I can. These rapid, free-form gestures capture my immediate energy. It is completely spontaneous.

Next comes the heavy, physical work. I build thick textures using acrylics mixed with modeling paste and real sand. If you touch works like Earth and Fire or Rusted, you can feel the physical weight of the paint.

But my favorite part of the process is the final layer. This is where my corporate, organized brain steps back in. I introduce sharp geometric shapes and intentional, clean lines. I add glowing flashes of gold or silver leaf. This structure builds an orderly path through the beautiful chaos, guiding your eyes across the vibrant surface.

Many of my boldest choices are inspired by the land I call home. Pieces like Gobustan pull from the ancient, sun-baked textures of Azerbaijan’s history. Other works, like Summer in Paris or Baku – Cityscape, capture the electric rhythm of modern city life.

My art is not meant to just look pretty on a wall. It is a living record of resilience, imperfection, and hope.