
Elena Zolotnitsky’s paintings move between chairs, flowers, and portraits, with each subject offering a distinct way into color, memory, emotion, and the act of painting itself. Familiar forms remain present but are rarely fixed. Faces emerge through gesture and surface, flowers shift between description and sensation, and chairs take on the presence of characters. For Zolotnitsky, these subjects are starting points rather than destinations — structures through which a painting can become more intuitive, open, and alive.
In her ongoing Extinct series, the chair becomes a way of exploring presence through absence. Zolotnitsky describes the series as carrying “a sensation of something having passed” — a person, a moment, a memory, or a feeling. Yet the work is ultimately about painting rather than the object itself. Across Extinct, her portraits, and her flowers, color, gesture, surface, and open space allow recognizable forms to shift between clarity and ambiguity. “I like to think that there is no object,” she says. “That it is all an emotion.”
Zolotnitsky compares her recurring subjects to the structure of a sonnet, where repetition creates the freedom to continually discover something new. At the center of her practice is what she calls the “mystery of familiar” — the thrill of finding something unexpected within something known. Trained in the classical tradition of fine art, she has spent much of her life pushing against prescribed ways of making an image in pursuit of greater freedom. Across nearly four decades of painting, her underlying question remains the same: how to make a painting feel alive and “vibrate with mystery.”