I am a transformer
``Painting was and is a therapy for me. I take somehow all the bad energy coming to me and I transform it into a nice collour and form. Into a good energy. ``
Preview Gallery
Some examples from my creation of over 700 paintings.
Who is Meda?
Besides being a strong essence in a human body, Meda inherited her sensitivity and artistic side from Romania’s first ballerina, as her niece.
What she has become today is a consequence of her origins from a traditional family of pharmacists, architects, and artists who have played a significant role in the development of Bucharest since 1880.
A graduate of the Law University in Bucharest, Romania, and the French Language University in Grenoble, France, Meda had an important career in the banking system and human resources. However, after a difficult separation from France at the age of 40, Meda fell into depression and retired from work and social activities.
For the past nine years, Meda has found peace surrounded by a loving husband and an adorable cat. She discovered her passion for painting, creating over 700 canvases in a very small atelier. You can discover all of them here.
The artist says:
Painting was and is therapy for me. I somehow take all the bad energy that comes to me and transform it into nice colors and forms—into good energy. I saw people happy looking at my paintings, so I have succeeded!
I don’t know if I am exactly a painter; I consider myself more of a transformer.
Illusion becomes reality,
Transforming day into night,
And the dualism, well-guarded by the apple,
Is breaking into pieces of truth.
A transcendent puzzle of non-being
Abuses the new existence.
It’s not white what is black and so on;
The colors of being are born.
I would like to go back profoundly
To the sweet and tender ignorance,
To not know that I have or I had
The strict courage to regard your face.
And after sight melted into the sun,
I opened my eyes for the first time.
There is no green sweeter than blindness,
And the fly blacker than the crow.
And I discovered for the 1000th time
A veil over my Daltonist view.
My color is not one from outside;
I’m no longer happy, but I’m no longer sad either.
I’m not cold, not hot, not warm,
Even if I can drown fire in water.
Between the earth and sky, I am a stone,
Or I’m a tree from which a giraffe feeds.
After everything flies with the wind
And becomes a storm,
I rest with my sweet taste of WORDS
And with a smile full of joy.
Meda, – May 2024