Opus Twenty Two. An attempt of a tenderness through the invisible  barrier

Opus Twenty Seven. 34 turns on the way to myself.

Opus Eight. A sudden meeting of the two blots, the big and the small one, in an aggressive environment

Opus Twenty Four. The vertical sea tores the frame apart.

Opus Twenty Eight. I love to walk in the rain with no umbrella.

Opus Fifteen. The Russian give-away.

Opus Twenty Nine. Invalid Request.

Opus Four. 80 strokes in the direction of the «Black Square»

Opus Twenty Five. There’ll be no more flowers.

Opus Nine. Above the eternal peace, or Smoke on the water

Opus Sixteen. Saying Goodbuy to the illusions

Opus Twenty Six. A white square upon a black. Night, morning 

Opus Five. Big light grey square №2

Opus Thirteen. An april night in brief.

Opus Twenty. Black light

Opus Ten. Lost blot

Opus Twenty One. Cut

Opus Seventeen. Birdie, come back!

Opus Eleven. 300 strokes in the direction of the «Black square»

Opus Six. 158 strokes in the direction of the «Black Square»

Opus Eighteen. The confirmation of the right…

Opus Twelve. An almost white piece of paper ruined by the blot, or The sun above the sea

Opus Nineteen. The letter that wasn’t sent

Opus Seven. From tranquility to tranquility, or Smoke on the water

Opus One. 40 strokes in the direction of the «Black square»

Opus Two Big Gray Square number one

Opus Three. The sudden death of a blot on a tainted piece of paper

Opus Fourteen. On ambiguousness of the simple solutions

Opus Twente Three. On a summer night I try to silence my heart waiting for the sun to rise.