I tend to bypass people and turn to the spaces they live in and to the things they interact with—these are stories that happen behind the scenes, personal experiences expressed through purposefully basic, mundane objects.
Yet, the locations and narratives in Ekaterina’s paintings are not exact photographic depictions—they invariably possess something mysterious, strange, alien to the portrayed environment. Be that a garden sculpture of a lion hiding behind a metal barrier in a dimly lit room, or a desolate posh upholstered chair in a park, drawing the eye of a stray dog as well as the viewer. Each narrative is quietly permeated with some interference that bridges the reality with something that only mimics reality.