I Want To Fill My Paintings With What Was, Is And Will Be (14 Pics)

Some paintings decorate a wall. Others hijack your afternoon. The series I Want To Fill My Paintings With What Was, Is And Will Be (14 Pics) belongs in the second category. It is the kind of work that makes you pause, lean in, squint a little, and then realize you are no longer just looking at paint. You are looking at time behaving badly in the best possible way.

At the center of this series is artist Oleksandra Malyshko, a painter whose work turns landscape into something far more emotional than scenic. These are not postcard views designed to whisper, “What a lovely hill.” They are paintings that ask bigger questions: What does a place remember? What happens when memory, mood, history, and imagination all show up to the same canvas without RSVPing? And how can line, color, and atmosphere carry not only what we see now, but what came before and what may still be coming?

That idea, filling a painting with what was, is, and will be, sounds poetic because it is poetic. But it is also a practical artistic method. The strongest painters rarely copy a landscape like a camera with rent due. They build a world. They compress observation, feeling, association, and narrative into one image. In this 14-picture set, the result is art that feels layered, restless, and alive. The paintings do not merely depict a place. They stage a conversation between memory and presence.

Who Is the Artist Behind the Series?

Oleksandra Malyshko’s work stands out because it treats the painted surface like an emotional weather system. Her images are rooted in landscape, but they do not stay obediently within the borders of traditional landscape painting. Instead, they lean toward symbolic storytelling, expressive linework, and color relationships that suggest more than they explain. That is a smart move. Art gets much more interesting the moment it stops acting like a tour guide and starts acting like a witness.

One of the most compelling things about Malyshko’s artistic approach is her use of line as a signature language. In many paintings, line is just the backstage crew: useful, necessary, rarely applauded. Here, line is on stage, center spotlight, giving the performance of its life. It creates tension, rhythm, movement, and personality. It can feel lyrical in one area of the canvas and urgent in another. That gives the work a pulse.

Her paintings also suggest a broader contemporary interest in landscape as memory rather than map. That matters because modern viewers are often less interested in perfect realism than in emotional truth. A field, a road, a stand of trees, or a distant house can become a vessel for longing, conflict, peace, displacement, or hope. The place may be real, imagined, remembered, or all three at once. Honestly, that is how most of us experience life anyway.

Why This Series Feels Different

Landscape Here Is Not Background; It Is Biography

In weaker art, the landscape is wallpaper. In stronger art, it is biography. That is the difference this series understands. These 14 paintings do not treat nature as neutral scenery. Instead, the land carries human meaning. The viewer senses that every path, sky break, cluster of trees, or shifting color field has absorbed something: a memory, an event, a mood, a story too large to fit neatly into words.

This is one reason the series feels emotionally spacious. Malyshko does not force a single reading. She leaves room for the viewer to meet the work halfway. That open-ended quality is part of the pleasure. A painting becomes more memorable when it gives you a feeling first and a tidy explanation never. Art does not always need to hand you a map. Sometimes it just needs to hand you a weather report for the soul.

Line Does More Than Outline

Many viewers notice color first, but the real magic in this kind of painting often lives in structure. Malyshko’s lines are not decorative leftovers. They organize the image, direct the eye, and create a sense of lived motion. In some areas, they can imply wind, growth, tension, or fracture. In others, they knit the painting together and make separate forms feel related.

This is especially effective in a series about time. The past, present, and future are not cleanly separated in life, and they are not cleanly separated here either. The linework helps collapse those divisions. A contour may feel like a memory lingering at the edge of the image. A repeated directional movement can feel like time flowing forward. Broken or interrupted marks can imply uncertainty, conflict, or transition. That is a lot of emotional heavy lifting for something people still casually call “just a line.” The line would like some respect, please.

Color Acts Like Memory

Color in this series does not merely describe objects. It sets emotional temperature. A cool stretch of blue-green may suggest distance, quiet, recovery, or the hush of something unresolved. Warmer tones can create urgency, tenderness, or the feeling that the world is glowing from within. Contrasts sharpen meaning. Harmonies soften it. Either way, color becomes a storytelling tool.

That matters because memory is rarely black and white, and it is almost never neutral. We remember through emotion. A place from childhood may seem brighter than it was. A difficult year may tint everything in harsher tones. A hopeful future may glow before it exists. Malyshko’s paintings understand this. Their colors do not simply report reality. They interpret it.

What “What Was, Is And Will Be” Means in Visual Art

The title of the series is what makes the whole body of work click. It suggests three layers of experience living at once inside a single composition.

What Was

The past enters through memory, history, and trace. It may appear through the emotional charge of a setting, through a nostalgic atmosphere, or through visual motifs that feel inherited rather than newly invented. The idea of “what was” also reminds viewers that no landscape is ever empty. Places accumulate stories. Even when a painting contains no visible figures, human presence can still haunt the image through arrangement, tension, and mood.

What Is

The present appears in the act of seeing. This is the immediate moment of the painting: the actual colors on the canvas, the current weather of the composition, the movement of the eye across the image. “What is” is also the viewer’s experience in real time. Every person brings a different history to the work, which means the painting keeps changing slightly with each encounter.

What Will Be

The future is the most intriguing layer. It can emerge as possibility, warning, promise, or transformation. A painting that contains forward motion does not need to illustrate tomorrow literally. It only needs to feel unfinished in the right way. In this series, there is often a sense that the image is still becoming. The story has not ended. The weather may shift. The road may continue. The viewer may leave the room, but the painting keeps thinking.

How the 14 Paintings Work as a Gallery Experience

Seen together, the 14 images function like chapters in a visual essay. Each work may stand on its own, but the group gains power through repetition and variation. Certain themes recur: atmosphere, motion, emotional geography, symbolic color, and the suggestion that place is never only physical. That repetition creates cohesion without boredom. It is the artistic version of a great album: familiar enough to feel intentional, varied enough that you do not skip tracks.

The gallery format also helps the viewer notice the evolution of visual ideas. One painting may lean more heavily on harmony and calm; another may build tension through contrast. One may feel rooted in observation; another may drift toward dream. Together, they show how a consistent artistic voice can remain recognizable while still exploring different emotional registers. That range is important for both artistic credibility and viewer engagement.

There is also a practical SEO lesson hiding here, oddly enough. People searching for contemporary painting, symbolic landscape art, linear divisionism, narrative painting, or art about memory are often not looking for a dry museum label. They want interpretation. They want context. They want help understanding why a series like this feels meaningful. That is why this body of work has strong web appeal: it is visually striking, emotionally accessible, and conceptually rich.

Why Viewers Connect With This Kind of Contemporary Painting

Viewers connect with paintings like these because they recognize themselves inside the tension. Most people live with multiple timelines at once. We carry old versions of ourselves, deal with present demands, and imagine future outcomes, often before breakfast. A painting that mirrors this layered condition feels contemporary in the deepest sense. It reflects how consciousness actually works.

There is also comfort in ambiguity. Not vagueness, not confusion, but ambiguity with intention. The best symbolic art gives us enough to hold onto and enough to wonder about. Malyshko’s paintings seem to understand that balance. They offer real visual anchors, landscape, movement, color, structure, while keeping interpretation open. That makes the work inviting rather than intimidating.

And yes, there is beauty here too. Let us not get so intellectual that we forget the obvious. Beauty still matters. Strong composition matters. A painting that can stop your scroll-happy brain in its tracks has already achieved something rare. If it then makes you feel that time is somehow visible, even better.

What Artists, Collectors, and Casual Browsers Can Learn From This Series

For artists, this series is a reminder that personal style is not a costume; it is a method of seeing. Malyshko’s use of line, atmosphere, and symbolic place shows how a painter can build a recognizable voice without repeating herself mechanically. The lesson is not “copy this look.” The lesson is “find the formal tools that carry your deepest concerns.”

For collectors, the takeaway is that emotionally intelligent contemporary painting has lasting value. Work that operates on more than one level, formal, symbolic, and experiential, tends to stay interesting over time. A purely decorative image may charm a room for a while. A painting with narrative tension keeps revealing itself.

For casual viewers, the message is delightfully simple: you do not need a graduate seminar to enjoy art like this. Start with what you feel. Notice where your eye goes. Ask what the color is doing. Ask whether the place feels remembered, observed, or imagined. Ask why a line feels calm in one area and restless in another. Congratulations, you are already doing real art criticism.

Final Thoughts

I Want To Fill My Paintings With What Was, Is And Will Be (14 Pics) is a memorable title because it describes exactly what successful painting can do. It can hold time without freezing it. It can turn place into story, color into atmosphere, and line into emotion. Most importantly, it can remind us that images are not just surfaces. They are containers for memory, perception, and possibility.

Oleksandra Malyshko’s series succeeds because it does not reduce the world to one moment. Instead, it paints the overlap. The result is art that feels intimate without becoming small, symbolic without becoming stiff, and thoughtful without losing visual pleasure. These 14 paintings invite viewers to see landscape not as scenery to be consumed, but as living territory shaped by what happened, what is happening now, and what may happen next. That is a big ambition for any artist. Here, it feels earned.

Experiences Related to the Topic: What It Feels Like to Stand Before Paintings Filled With Past, Present, and Future

There is a particular kind of experience that happens when you spend real time with paintings built around memory and possibility. At first, you think you are just looking. Then, somewhere between the second and fifth minute, the painting starts looking back. Not literally, of course. If the trees start blinking, it may be time for coffee. But emotionally, something shifts. You stop treating the canvas as an object and begin treating it as a place.

That shift is powerful because it activates your own archive of feelings. A painted road may remind you of a drive you took years ago and never properly got over. A cluster of warm color may feel like late summer, or a childhood kitchen, or the strange optimism of a day that began badly and somehow improved. A broken line may call up anxiety. A soft horizon may create calm. You do not always know why you are reacting, only that the painting has pressed a button you did not realize was there.

That is one of the richest experiences art can offer: recognition without exact explanation. You are not identifying a fact. You are identifying a feeling. In this kind of work, the past arrives first. It sneaks in through atmosphere. It may come as nostalgia, grief, tenderness, or simply a sense that the image has known something before you ever entered the room. Then the present takes over. You become aware of your body standing in front of the work, your breathing, your pace, your attention. For a moment, the painting reorganizes your time. The day slows down. Your mind quits multitasking and starts noticing.

Then comes the future, the most surprising part. A painting can leave you with a sensation that is still unfolding after you walk away. You begin imagining what happens beyond the frame. You think about how the light might change, where the path might lead, what the place might look like in another season, another year, another life. Sometimes the future it opens is not in the painting at all, but in you. You leave wanting to make something, remember something, repair something, or simply pay closer attention.

That is why paintings about what was, is, and will be resonate so deeply. They do not lock you into a single message. They give you room to travel. They let you bring your own history, your current mood, and your private hopes into the encounter. In a world that moves too fast and explains too much, that kind of experience feels rare. It feels generous. It feels human.

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