All the artists who are close to me, whom I want to analyze, about whom I want to write, explore the theme of childhood or actively use the aesthetics of children's drawings. Children's drawing is always a question about the boundaries of subjectivity. If a child is still an incomplete citizen, can we consider a child an outsider? Can we consider children's art as outsider art on par with the art of the insane or marginalized? Or, for example, the drawings of a child and the drawings of a mentally ill child, what is the difference between them in terms of the subjectivity of the artist and our perception of this subjectivity?

Recently, I was at an exhibition in Turkey, it was an exhibition dedicated to contemporary forms of naive art, and the works of Alexey Panshin, an artist from Russia, impressed me the most. This artist subtly feels his own zones of comfort and discomfort. It is truly interesting how this artist combines the two main elements of the "child's way of producing the visual" (as post-primitivist critics express it): abstract expressionism and the simplest reproducible forms (animals, faces, pop culture artifacts, or just impressions of early childhood). Alexey Panshin very naturally connects these elements into a kind of sign-less narrative that collapses on the viewer with an obsessive seriality of an obsessive blue color and a rough texture. Alexey Panshin wants to be elusive and hide his emotions (which is more characteristic of a teenager than a child) and thereby exposes himself and presents a portrait of a contemporary artist, stuck between a traumatic childhood and a depressive middle age, full of vulnerability and some acerbic sacrifice. It is very easy to emotionally connect with such works, but they do not seem like a sickly sweet dessert trinket. Behind the simplicity of the form, there is a stunning professionalism and serious reflection of a mature, outstanding artist. What else is needed to spend a couple of evenings in Turkey and not want to kill oneself for another day of this mortal life. Who knows?

I first came across Hellga Io's art while casually scrolling through my Instagram feed. I was struck by her highly detailed and somewhat unsettling black, white, and red images, full of a primal horror, folk-like quality, and incredible psychic energy. I don't know much about this artist. Probably because Hellga Io is a very private person. I only managed to find out that she is originally from Eastern Europe and is actively participating in various exhibitions in Europe and the UK. We chatted through a messaging app, and she told me a remarkable episode from her artistic career, after learning about which I decided to write this article.