Doll's Halo
The “Doll's Halo” Series
Six paintings about how a woman tries to live under someone else’s gaze — even when no one is looking. The pink halos above the heads don’t shine — they press down: first together with others, then alone, then already inside.
It’s about the moment when the role stops being a game — it becomes everything you have. You hold on to another, balance on a ball, watch hope float up and away, or drag along the ground like a burden. In the end you’re left alone — with frills, bows, a silly crown and a halo you can’t take off.
I didn’t paint a fairy tale or a tragedy — I painted what I feel every day: how you try to be yourself, but still have to be a doll. So that others find it pleasant to look at you. Where you have no right to be weak, sick, sad. And how scary it is to show that underneath it all — there’s just a person who’s tired of holding the balance.
Balancing on the Ball
The role isn’t just put on you - it demands constant balancing, constant effort not to fall. Every second is tension, every movement is an attempt not to slip, not to show weakness.
The ball under your feet isn’t support - it’s an illusion of control. It’s round, unsteady, it doesn’t let you stand firmly on the ground, it forces you to keep moving, keep adjusting, keep proving that you’re “holding on.” And even when you think you’ve finally balanced - it can still roll away at any moment.
I painted exactly that feeling: when you’re no longer just playing a role, but living in it every second, and every step is a struggle not to fall, not to show that it’s hard for you, that you’re already on the edge.
Acrylic on canvas,
oil pastel
90×50cm
2026
Tethered Hope
She just stepped off the ball — as if she finally allowed herself not to balance anymore. But nothing changed. The same pink look, the same halo, the same roles that won’t come off.
Most of the balloons float up - unreachable, light, far away. But one drags along the ground, like a burden that won’t let her truly break free.
This isn’t a corridor - it’s a narrow path where a step to the side is already beyond what’s allowed. You can walk forward, you can stop, you can even turn back - but you can’t step out.
You keep going, and it drags behind you - and you don’t know if you don’t want to let it go, or simply can’t.
Acrylic on canvas,
oil pastel
90×50cm
2026
Crossing Paths
She walks her own tightrope, and beside her - another woman on hers. The lines aren’t parallel - they cross somewhere far above, as if they could theoretically meet, but never will in reality. Each sees the other, each feels the other is close, but each moves in her own direction: her own step, her own risk, her own possible fall.
This isn’t a shared path. These are two separate lines that only briefly cross in a glance - and that’s it. You can see each other, you can even know you’re not alone, but you can’t hold hands, you can’t support, you can’t walk together. Each balances alone. Each holds her own halo, her own tension, her own fear.
I painted exactly that: when you’re no longer alone in the literal sense, but still completely alone. You cross glances somewhere high up, but each walks her own line. And even when it seems you’re together in this balance - you’ve long been each alone with herself.
Acrylic on canvas,
oil pastel
60×50cm
2026
Danger of Balance
She walks the thin tightrope, arms spread, trying to hold her balance - as if she believes that if she never makes a mistake, everything will be okay. But the halo above her head doesn’t support - it presses down, like another weight that gives no peace.
The tightrope isn’t confidence - it’s danger. One wrong step - and it’s over. You balance not because you want to, but because falling costs too much. And even when it seems you’ve finally steadied yourself - the rope can still snap at any moment.
I painted exactly that feeling: when the role is no longer just a costume, but a constant threat. You live in it every second, every step is a fight not to fall, not to show weakness, not to admit it’s hard. And you’re already on the edge.
Acrylic on canvas,
oil pastel
60×50cm
2026
Under One Halo
Her halo is not a choice — it is a role.
She shines — because society decided so.
It is her duty: to be a source, to illuminate, to make everything around visible. Nakedness. Divergence. Distance.
Acrylic on canvas,
oil pastel
60×50cm
2026
Fool's Crown
She sits curled up, trying to make herself small and invisible - but on her head is this crown: silly, carnival, toy-like. It’s not majestic or royal - it’s humiliating, like a cheap trinket from a children's party, placed on an adult woman who long ago outgrew those games.
Frills, bows on her shoes, halo - all of it screams: you must be sweet, pretty, perfect, even when no one is watching. Even in silence, even when you’re completely alone with yourself - you’re still a doll, still forced to hold this crown, because taking it off means admitting you’re just a person who’s already exhausted.
I painted exactly that: how society forces a woman to wear this silly crown that presses down, even when there’s complete silence around her. And how terrifying it is to take it off - because then you’d have to show that underneath there’s nothing “holy,” just a tired person who simply wants to be.
Acrylic on canvas,
oil pastel
60×50cm
2026
Holding Hands Under the Halo
Two women hold hands in a cramped, suffocating space, as if they think it will be easier together to carry what has already been put on us. But the pink halos above their heads don’t shine - they press down, like the first hints of a role there’s no escaping.
I painted that moment when loneliness already creeps in, even though you’re not yet alone: you hold on to another, but both of you are already marked by the same pink “holy” template that turns us into dolls before we even realize it.
Acrylic on canvas,
oil pastel
80×50cm
2026