The Artworks of Mikhail Gubin

As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawin...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawin...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood. ;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawi...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawin...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood. ;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawi...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawin...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawin...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawin...

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As I work on my collages, my thoughts return to my childhood.;There are white and square piece of paper on the table, the charcoal is in my hand.;But I cannot recall the delicious odors and sounds wafting from the kitchen, my mother’s domain.;Like all these things my mother is gone, too.;I am drawin...

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