Why is that? How long will this last? Are there any ways to do something about it? The world won't change, then should I change and adjust to it?

The paintings of the first part, in which the general principle of the image operates, are indicative. The viewer clearly sees an easily recognizable background, reproduced with detailed accuracy by Ivan Ivy, and the features of reality are preserved. The scenery is made up of what makes up the world of a little person in adolescence. This is the world of the visible, the world of the environment, which is embraced by the child's vision and beyond which nothing exists. It consists of houses, lawns, "the very tree that grew at this house," street vistas, and a playground. Some elements of this place are painted, etched into the memory with multicolored colors.

People who have the same experience of playing on the playground can easily identify car tires dug into the ground, worn and worn out, on which you can jump, a swing on which your head was spinning and which are remembered by the fact that the tree opposite, which you looked at while riding, then quickly approached, soaring up, then receded, going under my feet. There was also a staircase nearby, having climbed the last step of which, you can see far, far away! My favorite place was garages, where there were "indecent" inscriptions and graffiti, but behind which it was possible, while no one was watching, to discover and do something very pleasant and only yours. Cozy courtyards, beyond which an alien world begins. Bridges and stairs leading there, which you don't know yet, but which beckons so much. A stone that looks like a whale. That's if you look closely. The monument to Lenin in the city garden, which, like the tall Christmas trees nearby, is just a background. These images of the surrounding world make up the scenery, form a theatrical stage, where the actor and the main character are present.

He appears in the paintings, this hero. It seems to be smeared, but these are deliberate colorful smudges. This is a memory, a lost time, this is a fantasy, when I tried to make the landscape my own, I took off in it, dancing, spinning, meeting someone. In these blurred images, something is distinct, something has changed so much that it has been deformed, preserved by the power of imagination in an intangible fleur of seemingly distinct, but blurred and forgotten forms. These creature forms acquire ears, trunks, and curl up into balls. Is it possible to call these images departing and flying away, existing in a dripping haze against the background of eternal and easily identifiable scenery, evidence of happiness, fixation of a once experienced and such a valuable moment? A painful moment, but it remained forever there, in the past, irrevocably gone.

And here are the works of the second, recently made half of the exhibition. If you do not look closely, but look at the second part of the exhibition with a quick glance, read it diagonally, then the same method is visible. Figures flowing to the left, losing their outlines, standing against the background of something figurative, static, identifiable. Soon, this second part of the work begins to dominate the narrative of the exhibition, whose name it justifies. These are "Shadows of Tears".

The blurring of the figures, which is so noticeable in the first half of the exhibition and which became the artist's handwriting, has not disappeared. She has changed. Now there is no place for a veil net, disappearing droplets, translucent, invisible strokes. The figures clearly flowed. The drops have become tangible, they are the source of a dense, saturated, liquid mass.

There is less figurativeness. Fewer items are being identified. But something is guessed, the outline hints at important silhouettes, so you can name the objects seen and identified. Here is a stage on which there is a pulpit from which someone is broadcasting something to the hall. There is another scene where the black profiles of a girl and a boy stand in front of the microphone, behind which the curtain reveals the bubbling lava.

In another picture, the black figure of a girl is again turned around to people who are standing in a white uniform, and whose boots are painted red, and the house located in the center suddenly begins to rhyme with sharp black dips.

On other canvases, this mood is reinforced, one can see jumps into nowhere, broken walls, deformed floors, frightening toys, a cot that seems to take off and, turning out, opens. Creatures similar to dogs and foxes are visible, but something monstrous is happening to them that they look lost and scared. Some parts of the paintings turn into objects resembling body parts. Nothing turns out to be stable, everything collapses, as happens when a catastrophe comes, when war sweeps everything away, without disassembling, sparing no one and regardless of anything.

Of particular note is the work of color spots, where dark, black, brown, gray, and blue pigments prevail, restlessly cut through with red, white, and light colors. The paint is applied by sharply changing the trajectory of the corners, large, distinct brush strokes, smudges, unbalanced layers.

In this second part of the work, in comparison with the first, there is another change in the metaphysical property. The very gap between the characters and the surrounding reality, easily noticeable in the early works, is being destroyed. The heroes of Ivan Ivy's paintings find themselves inside a world that used to be distant and alien, and now this world has become their own, but at the cost of absorbing the hero, absorbing him into themselves, destroying the gap and distance, tragically and catastrophically grinding the hero, washing him away, so that he expires.