Spring, Light & Colour ♡

Reflections from the Gallery Curator

Let art move you beautifully, honestly, and deeply.

As the light softens and colour gently returns to the world, we find ourselves in a season of quiet reawakening.

Life is short but beautiful if you can understand it … Life is a blank canvas — sometimes bold, sometimes quiet.

And sometimes, escaping into the city’s vibrant lights makes you feel alone… yet somehow more alive.

Every moment is a brushstroke in the art of living. The city’s glow can leave us solitary — but in that solitude, the heart beats louder, colours shine brighter, and we feel vividly alive.

Life is art. The city lights dazzle. In their glow, solitude awakens you — and makes you alive.

Spring, to me, is more than a change in weather — it’s a return to the senses. A gentle invitation to slow down, notice more, and respond to the world with renewed curiosity. It’s a time of colour, vitality, and the invisible energy that stirs us forward. A fresh beginning.

This Spring is also personally significant: it marks my first year in Australia since relocating my gallery and home to Sydney — a city that has become my happy place, full of positivity and joy. My art is where my heart is.

At Mira Corbova Art Gallery, we’re embracing this season of renewal with vibrant new works, soulful curation, and a gentle reminder: now is the perfect moment to surround yourself with what feels alive.

Visit the Gallery

This Spring, I warmly invite you to visit the gallery — currently open to the public on Thursdays, 11 am – 4 pm, or by private appointment at a time that suits you.

Looking Ahead

This year, I’m focusing on art fairs and new art collections, while also planning a special Christmas event to close the year - to celebrate our first wonderful year in Australia since relocating last Spring.

Christmas Soirée & Celebration Exhibition

December · Details to follow

This festive gathering will bring together art, poetry, and community — a moment to celebrate creativity, connection, and the close of a vibrant year.

Spring Cleaning for the Soul

Each spring, I find myself moving artworks around my home and studio — not just for aesthetics, but to shift the energy. It’s a kind of inner and outer spring cleaning. I often recommend it to collectors as well: refresh your space, listen to what moves you now.

Art isn’t static. Like us, it evolves. And sometimes, we need new pieces — new energies — to reflect who we are becoming.

Famous artists throughout history have drawn deeply from the seasons. Claude Monet, for example, painted his gardens at Giverny again and again, responding to the changing light with new brushstrokes and palettes. Hilma af Klint’s spiritual works mirrored nature’s geometry and regenerative force. And Mark Rothko, though abstract, captured emotional seasons through colour, light, and depth.

Just like nature, abstract artists often feel more than they see. Our work is intuitive, emotional, and rooted in atmosphere and energy. Colours are feelings — and how we place them is often a reflection of our inner climate.

So let your walls breathe this season. Let them hold stories of who you are now.

New Works & Seasonal Inspiration

In my own practice, spring has inspired a shift in palette. My 2025 art collection, Wellness Whispers, is unfolding in warmer hues — Indian yellow, soft greens, glowing pinks, and glimmers of my signature iridescent gold. Though I rarely use blue, this season I fell in love with phthalo turquoise, and soft, Payne’s grey has become my new black.

These works are layered with stillness, presence, and healing. Created during quiet, introspective days, each piece offers a gentle yet vibrant invitation to reconnect with the self.

A Painting for Stillness: Tranquillity and Solitude

One of the most beloved pieces in the gallery is Tranquillity, from my Liberty Collection. I painted it during a time when stillness was not only welcomed — it was needed.

With soft blending and a rhythmic, side-to-side brushstroke, the painting came to life. A white light rises through the centre, like a symbol of home and inner peace. Viewers often tell me they see a woman resting on a swing in a heavenly garden. I see it too — and every time I look at this piece, I feel calm return.

Its sister painting, Solitude, followed soon after — glowing with deep reds, soft pinks, iridescent gold, and delicate gold leaf. Both works are currently available — waiting for a collector who recognises their quiet power.

For Art Lovers Near & Far

Whether you’re local to Sydney or further afield, you’re warmly welcome.

We offer local and international shipping, and are happy to provide a complimentary Dress My Wall mock-up to help you visualise how a work might look in your space. We want this process to feel simple, personal, and inspiring.

This season, may you feel the soft spark of renewal — and the warmth of the sun calling you outdoors and inward at once. May you find yourself drawn to new light, fresh colour, and meaningful beauty. And may you discover something — a painting, a poem, a quiet moment — that helps you remember:

You are not just observing spring…

You are part of its unfolding.

We look forward to welcoming you to Mira Corbova Art Gallery this Spring.

With light and colour,

Mira Corbova

Artist | Curator | Writer

Mira Corbova Art Gallery
www.miracorbova.com

♡ Seeing Beyond the Surface

The Quiet Power of Stillness in Art.

Stillness isn’t empty — it’s alive with presence. It’s where we hear what the world usually drowns out.
Where truth rises to meet us — our own, and sometimes someone else’s.
For me, stillness is where the deepest connection to art begins.

Stillness opens us to the hidden language of art — the stories that live beneath the surface.
It allows us to feel more than we see, inviting body and spirit to sense what the mind can’t always explain.

I often lose myself (for hours) in galleries and museums. Art is oxygen — something I need simply to keep breathing. One of my favourite places to wander in Sydney is the Art Gallery of New South Wales. It was the first gallery I visited after moving to Australia.

I still remember entering the Aboriginal art collection and being greeted by a yellow-hued painting — radiant, alive, almost smiling at me. I smiled back instinctively. There was such joy in it. I could feel the artist’s presence in every flick of the brush, as if sunshine had been poured onto canvas. It felt like meeting someone through light and colour.

Further in, a series of solemn, grounding sculptures stopped me in my tracks. They held so much history, pain, and spirit that I quietly wept. I felt the presence of ancestors, and of the land itself, speaking through the work. This wasn’t performance. This was raw honesty. Sacred stillness.

That’s what art can do. It bypasses the intellect and speaks directly to the soul.

Stillness During Chaos

These reflections feel even more urgent now.
We are living in deeply unsettled times — where the world roars with war, injustice, illness, division, and noise.

And when so many people, including your loved ones, are affected by grief, cancer, conflict, or systems that fail, the chaos isn’t just “out there.” It enters the body. It inhabits your day. It spills into your studio. On those days, stillness becomes the only way to be. Stillness becomes my medicine. My refuge. My prayer.

I paint not to escape the pain, but to hold it — to honour it — and gently transform it. In stillness, I remember who I am.

The most powerful things in life do not shout — they whisper.

There are days that I just let the brush move and colours call my name. I highly recommend that everyone try to create without any expectations. That’s how healing begins — not in answers, but in presence.

Stillness as a Spiritual Experience

Some of the most profound artists have understood this.

Agnes Martin painted in silence, with subtle grids and soft washes, like they were disappearing. Her work doesn’t speak loudly — it invites stillness. Standing before one of her canvases feels like sitting in a chapel: quiet, spacious, and held.

Mark Rothko’s vast colour fields draw us inward, into emotions we cannot name. I’ve seen people cry in front of his work without knowing why. It happened to me and many of my clients when seeing my work. That’s what happens when energy becomes visible.

Hilma af Klint — long ignored by the mainstream — painted from visions, intuition, and a deep spiritual place. Her works weren’t made to impress. They were offerings. I’m fascinated by her work, which I would describe in my own words as “spiritual geometry”.

And here in Australia, Emily Kame Kngwarreye shows us that stillness doesn’t mean lack of movement. Her work pulses with ancestral memory and connection to Country. Her paintings are maps of Dreaming — alive with presence. I especially adore her Ntange Dreaming, where I can almost see images moving within the surface.

Emily’s work is currently being honoured in a major exhibition at Tate Modern in London — Emily Kam Kngwarray.

Dear artists, friends, and colleagues in London, please take the opportunity to experience her work. Let it move you. Let it teach you.

A Painting from My Practice — Tranquillity

One of my latest artworks that speaks deeply of stillness is Tranquillity, from the Liberty collection.

It was created in a time when stillness was not only healing, but it was a necessary act to pause. I remember gently swinging my brush from side to side across the canvas, layering soft blends of light and colour. The movement was meditative, and the white light peeking through felt like a sign of home — of return, of rejuvenation.

Several admirers have been drawn to this piece. Some have described seeing a woman reclining on a swing, as if suspended in a heavenly garden — a place of pure rest. I can see it too. Every time I look at Tranquillity, it brings me calm. It reminds me of what it feels like to be held, gently and without demand.

This oil painting with a poem is available for sale — and ready to find its way to a lucky collector.

In My Gallery — A Curated Studio Space

I felt that same quiet reverence when standing before Alyson Hayes’ Understory ceramic light sculptures in my gallery. Their gentle glow stopped me mid-step.

It was as though nature had found a way to sing through light — not loudly, but to be remembered.

That’s what stillness in art offers: remembrance.

Of who we are.

Of where we come from.

Of what truly matters.

People often say I have a “good eye” for art. But I think it’s less about the eye — and more about sensitivity.

Presence.

Energy.

As a curator and art collector, I don’t select work based on status or fashion. I don’t chase names. I follow the pulse.

I choose art that breathes, aches, uplifts.

Art that isn’t trying to fit in — but trying to speak truth.

Be Like Water

So next time you find yourself standing before a painting, a sculpture, a photograph — pause.

Let the noise fade. Let your body speak.

Ask not, “What does this mean?” but rather, “How does this feel?”

Stillness is not absence; it is a presence — deep, emotional, and alive.

And in times like these, perhaps the greatest wisdom — and the greatest art — asks us gently to:

Be like water that flows softly and try to adapt with grace.

Hold what you must and release what you cannot carry.

Shape your world not with force, but with quiet strength over time.

In stillness, I paint, and I write.

I do not create to escape the pain, the past, or the unknown.

I create to hold it — to sit with it — to honour its presence.

And in that tender, intimate space… something shifts.

The weight becomes colour.

The ache finds form.

What once hurt transforms into something that may one day heal — for me, and perhaps for someone else.

Each painting, each poem, is a meditation.

A slow, reverent exhale.

A way of letting sorrow speak — without drowning in it.

A way of letting joy arrive — even if only as a flicker of light across the canvas.

In stillness, I remember who I am.

Not a performer or a producer.

Just a feeling, breathing being — human before anything else.

And in that remembering, I’ve learned something essential:

The most powerful things in life do not shout.

They whisper.

They hum through colour.

They murmur through texture.

They glow quietly, like a lantern in the dark.

Wellness Whispers — my most personal collection yet — will be released in the coming months.

Born from moments of deep emotion, of witnessing illness, grief, a family affected by a war, grace, and healing, of praying through paint…

I hope these works offer calm. Compassion. Softness. Strength. Stillness.

May they become gentle companions for those walking hard roads.

May they remind you — even in your most silent moments —

You are not alone or broken.

You are a light that is already aglow.

Stay connected — sign up to our newsletter to be the first to hear about new arrivals, upcoming exhibitions, art fairs, and our intimate art soirées.

With love and colour,

Mira Corbova

Artist | Curator | Creator of ‘Art & Emotion’

Mira Corbova Art Gallery
www.miracorbova.com