Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

Computation and Ordering
We often think of mathematics as a computational apparatus: addition, multiplication, differentiation, integration — all of these are rules for working with numbers, methods of calculation. But mathematics is not only about counting. It is about seeking order, revealing structures, establishing relationships. In essence, mathematics is the art of ordering.
An artist, when creating a painting, also orders. He mentally divides space into parts, defines proportions, relates magnitudes. To depict a person, one must understand how the arms, head, and torso are related — where the center lies, where symmetry appears, where rhythm emerges. This is measurement. This is computation. Only instead of formulas, the artist uses visual images, intuition, composition. He works with halves, thirds, quarters — or even without numbers at all — yet still operates with relations. In this sense, the artist lives in the world of mathematics: he computes and orders.
Mathematicians, in turn, study numbers and forms, uncover patterns, construct abstract structures. But numbers and geometric figures are invisible by nature. You can write “5,” draw the graph of a function y = 2x + 5, but this is only a representation, not the object itself. Just as a photograph of a friend is not the friend, but only their image. The real friend is right there: you can see them, hear them, touch them. But where is the function itself? Where is the number? They cannot be touched. It seems they are nowhere. Yet if we say they do not exist at all, we reject something fundamental — something that lies at the foundation of science, architecture, music, even thought.
Numbers and forms are immaterial, but real. A circle drawn with chalk on the pavement is not a perfect circle, but in it we can discern the essence of the circle: symmetry, closure, equal distance of points from the center. We can compare circles, divide them, bend them — and each time we encounter the fact that behind the visible form there is something more general, more abstract. Mathematicians study this analytically — through formulas, proofs, logic. But that is not the only path.
One can compute and order without formulas. Take scissors, cut a paper square, and assemble a spiral from the pieces. Build a sculpture from intersecting cubes. Create a complex composition that cannot be described by a single function. You are still computing — not in the sense of counting, but in the sense of transforming form, seeking balance, checking proportions. This, too, is mathematics — only not written down, but embodied.
For a long time, abstract space was considered the prerogative of mathematicians. But in reality it belongs to everyone. Mathematics is one of the languages of abstraction, but not the only one. Artists, musicians, architects — all of them explore invisible structures: rhythm, symmetry, scale, harmony. They “play” with abstraction according to their own rules, not always formalized, but no less rigorous.
The mathematician and the artist are not opposites. Both work with what cannot be touched, but can be felt. Both seek order in chaos. Both compute — one through symbols, the other through forms. But their essence is the same: understanding the world through orderin

4 months ago | [YT] | 7

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

The truth is, we’re all a little like Dalí.
It’s just that Dalí was fully aware that one foot was planted in irrationality. We, on the other hand, rarely notice it in ourselves.
When someone asks us: "Where are you right now? What are you thinking about?"—our consciousness serves up a crisp snapshot, as if collapsing a quantum superposition:
"Here’s a chair, I’m sitting on it. Here’s a window, I’m looking through it. Here’s my coffee, I’m drinking it. The coffee is hot."
A perfect freeze-frame. But the next moment, our mind sinks back into the haze of thoughts and images swirling around us like gnats. Along with the chair comes a memory of a childhood swing; with the coffee, the bitter aftertaste of yesterday’s conversation. And suddenly, where you are feels more like a painting by Magritte or Jacek Yerka—where sensations, emotions, and thoughts layer over each other, forming an impossible superposition of coexisting worlds: an apple filling an entire room, a wardrobe door opening into a parallel universe, a bed standing in the middle of a forest, a clock melting into an unknown beast.
And you’re inside this ever-shifting stream.
Of course, our rational culture, with its reverence for common sense, constantly tries to pull us out of the thickets of the irrational. We train logic, make to-do lists, pride ourselves on a "sober view of things"—but in moments of fatigue or stress, our nerves fray because we’re alive. Lurking in the periphery of our perception is irrationality, barely visible and almost intangible. It has a backdoor—art. Through painting, poetry, music, it seeps into our "objective" world and crystallizes in colors, words, sounds. Now there’s no denying it: the traces of irrationality lie before us. And these traces—paintings, poems, music—aren’t just evidence. They’re an invitation. Not to flee from the world within, but to step into it. To listen closely. To look deeper.
The photo shows a painting by Yatsik Yerka

4 months ago | [YT] | 9

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

In our time, works of art or architectural monuments are perceived as some kind of cultural appendage of civilization or as luxurious trinkets of the wealthy. Martin Heidegger turns these notions upside down. He writes that the world begins with the sacred, not with the material. First, there are the conduits of the sacred—works of art—and only then does the world form around them.
Here is what the philosopher writes in his book "The Origin of the Work of Art":
"The creation of the temple gathers and assembles around itself the unity of paths and connections, on which and in which birth and death, curse and blessing, victory and defeat, steadfastness and fall create the visage of fate for the human race.
...
Standing in its place, the creation of the temple reveals its world and sets it back on the earth, which thus for the first time emerges as the ground and native soil. But it is never the case that people and animals, plants and things exist and are known, and then, incidentally, these people and animals, plants and things become a fitting environment for the temple, which one fine day is added to the number of all that is present.
...
Standing in its place, the temple for the first time gives things their look and people their gaze upon themselves. And such a look and such a gaze remain unfolded as long as the creation remains a creation and as long as the god has not abandoned it."
Thus, the world is created through the sacred, for example, through the temple, which is a conduit of the sacred. And according to Heidegger's logic, the destruction of the sacred leads to the destruction of the worldly...

4 months ago | [YT] | 4

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

You open a door—and suddenly, there’s Narnia.

Works of art are like doors. They separate the viewer from the place where they physically stand and the place that lies beyond. One can stand before such a door for a long time: examining its form, composition, colors, admiring the intricate swirls, pondering the process of its creation… But if the door never opens, it means we’ve only skimmed the surface. We haven’t gone deeper.

Why, for example, can we look at old photographs for so long? Because behind the surface of the image, an invisible world is hidden. A photo is a door. Everyday objects can be doors, too: you look at a dresser—and suddenly, a vision unfolds in your mind. For a moment, you stand both here next to the dresser and there—in a world of dreams.

Paintings are very much like books. Though for us, brought up in a literary culture, it’s easier to dive into a text. No one demands that every book be as simple as the fairy tale of "The Gingerbread Man" (though some might argue even that story isn’t so simple). But the expectations for visual art are stricter: if it’s not immediately clear—then it’s nonsense. One wants to protest: wait a minute, books vary in complexity, too. Some only reveal themselves to a reader in a certain state of mind, and without that, they seem like the ramblings of a senile madman. And while people are ready to set a book aside saying, “No, I don’t get it,” they often turn away from a painting blaming the artist: “What rubbish.”

But paintings are like books. Some are clear at once. Some require time, attention, a certain mood. But if a miracle happens and you resonate with such a piece—behind that door, Narnia truly opens. And you’ll realize: it was always there, right beside you. You just never knocked.

Pictured: a painting by artist Jacek Yerka.

5 months ago | [YT] | 14

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

The Banana Double Bind: When There Is No Clear Answer
A double bind is a psychological situation in which a person receives two (or more) contradictory messages, and any response they make is considered wrong because it violates one of the messages. These situations often create a sense of entrapment, anxiety, and helplessness.
📚 Origin of the Term:
The term was introduced by Gregory Bateson in the 1950s as part of his communication theory and research into schizophrenia.
💡 Key Features of a Double Bind:
Two (or more) contradictory messages coming from one or several sources.
The inability to choose a “correct” response — every option leads to error or punishment.
A prohibition against acknowledging the contradiction — meta-communication (“But you’re contradicting yourself!”) is also taboo.
The situation is repeated or reinforced, becoming a pattern of thinking or behavior.
🧠 Examples:
🔹 Social Example:
“Be yourself! But behave properly — don’t stand out.”
Authenticity is encouraged but punished when it looks unconventional.
🔹 Workplace Example:
A manager says:
“I want you to be proactive. But don’t take a single step without my permission.”
The employee is trapped: initiative is punished, and passivity is also punished.
🧾 Conclusion:
A double bind is a situation of conflicting messages where any action leads to internal or external conflict, and discussing the contradiction is impossible. It's a trap from which you can't escape “correctly.”
The Link to Maurizio Cattelan’s “Banana Duct-Taped to a Wall”
The connection between the double bind and Cattelan’s banana on duct tape is direct and profound. This object isn’t just ironic art — it’s a communicative trap in which the viewer (or critic) cannot win. That perfectly reflects the nature of the double bind.
📌 What is the “Banana on Duct Tape”?
It’s a real banana, duct-taped to a wall, sold for $6.2 million.
A provocation that sparked massive public reaction — from laughter to outrage to philosophical debate.
🧠 How it Works as a Double Bind:
💬 Message 1:
“This is art. The market, gallery, and critics say so. Respect it.”
💬 Message 2:
“This is just a banana taped to a wall. Are you serious? This is nonsense!”
💬 Implicit Message:
If you're outraged — you’re uptight, you don’t understand contemporary art, you’re a philistine.
If you take it seriously — you’re naive, you’ve been tricked, you swallowed the joke.
If you’re ironic — you’re still participating, because irony is built into the work.
🎭 Where’s the Trap?
Whatever you feel — that’s already part of the performance.
Laugh? → “You didn’t get it.”
Agree? → “You fell for it.”
Analyze? → “You’re taking it too seriously.”
Stay silent? → “It still worked on you.”
This is a textbook double bind:
✔ Any reaction you have only confirms its power over you.
💡 Comparison:
Just like in a classic double bind, you're placed in a no-win scenario — and talking about it directly becomes part of the trap itself.
🌊 Going Deeper:
Cattelan, like other postmodernists, doesn’t create an art object — he creates a context in which you become the object.
The viewer becomes part of the exhibit.
How you respond is the artwork.
🧾 Conclusion:
“Banana on Duct Tape” is a visualized double bind, a mockery of all our attempts to interpret, evaluate, or respond “correctly.” It’s a work that laughs at you, no matter how you approach it.
It’s a trap for logic, seriousness, and reason.
Analyze it.
Get angry.
Laugh.
You’re already inside.

5 months ago | [YT] | 6

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

I am rereading "The Chronicles of Amber." In my youth, Zelazny's books made a strong impression on me; there was a certain charm in them that captivated my heart. Now I remember that I didn't read all the books in the cycle of stories about Corwin, simply because I didn't physically have them. Why not read them again? I opened the first book, "Nine Princes in Amber." The plot is very dynamic, and it's hard to put down. But perhaps that's not the main thing. Suddenly, the "Chronicles" turned out to be not what I remembered from school. It's not just a story of intrigue and power struggles set against a fantasy universe. Now it turns out that Corwin's story is one of spiritual awakening. A man has lost his memory; he doesn't remember who he is, what he did, or his place in the world. He grasps at any opportunity, even dangerous ones, to uncover the mystery about himself. His mind is tormented by fleeting visions that bring pain and anxiety. And although his earthly life did indeed happen to him, all his sufferings are real, yet his destiny, his true being, is connected with the eternal city of Amber. Corwin travels through worlds that are merely shadows cast by Amber. His car ride with Random through the Shadows reminded me of the stream of thoughts rushing through consciousness: when you try to focus on something, but extraneous thoughts constantly change the landscape of imagination. Yes, the hero could, if he wished, live in any of the shadow worlds, but his heart will always yearn for the eternal city. Only it does Corwin truly love, only Amber is truly real. Thus, the hero's earthly life does not reflect his entire nature. It is useless to seek one's place only on Earth; one must make a transcendent leap for a true understanding of oneself and one's relationship with the universe. Despite the truth about his origin, despite his connection to eternity, the hero remains a terrible egotist, like all his brothers and sisters. They love Amber with all their hearts; they feel awe and admiration for it. Amber is the greatest treasure, the foundation of the world, but at heart, most of the brothers and sisters are vile scoundrels. The princes and princesses are children of eternity, and they know it. But even knowledge does not save them from envy, cruelty, and ambition. The eternal city is worthy of love, but the members of the royal family are too corrupt to live peacefully in its radiance.

6 months ago | [YT] | 2

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

A Place That Is Not a Place
Lately, when thinking about art, I often recall the books from the "Chronicles of Amber" series by Roger Zelazny. The main character, Prince Corwin, could travel between dimensions using the power of his mind. Here, for example, is an excerpt where he manages to escape from prison thanks to a drawing on the wall:
"I quickly turned to the drawing of the lighthouse of Cabra he had made and looked at it while the match was still burning. Yes, I still felt my power over space and my other abilities. But would the single remaining match be enough?
...
The bonfire was growing, illuminating the entire wall well. I focused, trying to recall a familiar scene in my memory. It seemed to me that I could already hear the cries of the seagulls and feel the salty smell of the sea. The image became more and more convex, as if protruding from the wall. I threw a rag into the fire. The flame subsided for a second, then flared up again. I did not take my eyes off the drawing.
The hands of Master Dworkin still possessed magical power. Soon the lighthouse looked almost as real as the walls of my dungeon. Then it became the reality, and my cell was just a Shadow, drifting away somewhere. I heard the noise of the surf, felt the touch of the warm rays of the midday sun...
I stepped towards the light—but not into the bonfire at all...
And found myself on the pebbly sandy shore of a small island of Cabra, where a huge gray lighthouse tower stood, lighting the way for ships sailing to Amber at night. Several alarmed seagulls were circling around me with cries, and the waves crashing against the coastal rocks and the endless whistle of the wind echoed my laughter. Amber was several days' journey away, somewhere over my left shoulder.
I had escaped."
In a similar way, we interact with works of art. Prince Corwin, possessing power over space, could step from one reality into another—as if teleporting. Looking at a painting, we use the power of our imagination to find ourselves in another place. Of course, we remain in front of the painting, but our mind makes a leap. If the Master of the drawing possessed a power similar to that of Dworkin, then we immerse ourselves in a more subtle space. And then we see not only with our eyes but also with our inner vision, the world that is hidden behind the colorful layer, the world that unfolds in our imagination.
Thus, a painted picture becomes a portal. Like Prince Corwin, we pass through the drawing to find ourselves in another place—subtle, invisible, but real.

6 months ago | [YT] | 5

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

A banana taped to the wall is a resentment to common sense.

Those fixated on the beauty of surfaces, objectivity, and external resemblance are given Malevich's 'Black Square' as a reminder that something immaterial and timeless exists beyond things.

And it is irritating.

Those obsessed with their own significance and success are given Hirst's shark as a reminder of their own fragility and mortality.

And it is irritating.

Those fixated on their own individuality and uniqueness are given Warhol's soup cans as a reminder of the standard nature of pleasure and the clichéd nature of their own ideals.

And it is irritating.

Those fixated on their own intellect and believe they have understood everything about this world are given Cattelan's banana taped to the wall as a mockery of their own snobbery and a reminder of the limitations of thinking; as a mockery from Being in response to the arrogance of the so-called common sense.

And it is irritating.

6 months ago | [YT] | 6

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

How to Draw Invisible Worlds
Invisible magnetic fields can be visualized using iron filings. But what kind of filings can visualize the inner life of the soul? What should one scatter so that the streams of the invisible, yet real, take form — like shavings aligning along magnetic lines?
How can one capture that which is beyond words, beyond thought, beyond image? How can one convey that which exists before them — something primary, fluid, and inaccessible to formalization? That which we experience but cannot express — because it is too close to being itself.
It is here, at the boundary of perception, that a zone of uncertainty emerges. When someone appears who looks, who wants to understand or explain, they are confronted with helplessness. They try to grasp the elusive, to systematize the formless. And almost inevitably, they fail — for it is about something that lies beyond our understanding.
Attempting to draw this invisible being is an almost impossible task for an artist. It is a challenge full of paradoxes. For if the viewer finds no resonance in the painting, why should they believe the artist? Is there depth in it? Or is it just emptiness masquerading as meaning? Has the artist truly managed to depict the invisible world — or are they merely repeating the old tale of the emperor's new clothes?
This is a problem.
And yet...
What if one tries to immerse themselves in this painting? What if one takes the brush themselves, closes their eyes to doubts, and trusts that invisible flow moving inside? What would happen then?

6 months ago | [YT] | 6

Painting with Irina Lyamshina *irishkalia*

"Structure_05_06_20". Paper, tempera. Author: Irina Lyamshina

6 months ago | [YT] | 9