Vivarium Sun

Sometime in the middle of February, 2020

I had just started a painting of a geometric star on a giant canvas for a television network (that will not be named) for a new series of art they were producing. For a week, me and 10 filmmakers were crammed in my maple studio, recording and watching me paint a massive work. In total I painted for over 50 hours in one week. The painting was good, it was fresh and new, and I loved it. Then, it’s the last day of filming, in the 11th hour, the network’s bosses called and said that the painting was too “dark” and they couldn’t air it on TV. Then the network asked me to paint over it.. to “lighten it up.” Even though I showed them sketches and exactly what the piece would look like when it ended, they insisted they didn’t realize how “dark” it would be.

In front of the whole crew, the producer asked me to paint over my cherished piece, that I worked so hard on… a painting I already connected with deeply at this point. I was proud of it, and I didn’t want to paint over the piece. They needed to finish filming and have it ready for the producers the next morning, so I had to decide how I was going to respond. I looked up at the crew, they were very nervous I was about to explode and get angry. It was then I saw on their faces that they had anxiousness in their eyes, I understood in the quietness and tenseness of the moment it was two choices. 1. Keep the painting, and the crew gets in huge trouble. or 2. Paint over the painting, have the crew feel safe, practice non attachment, and paint over the piece. If I did that I would paint over the painting the next morning and I would make sure it was a memorable painting. I chose the second. There are photos of me painting over my previous painting, crying, with anger in my eyes. It’s hard to look at. We wrapped up filming. The crew was grateful, they know that I made a hard choice. I would like to point out, the most of the entire crew was incredible towards me, my anger was focused toward the network. Lack of communication and awful timing.

I never had to make a choice like this. It’s not like cutting the umbilliac cord, but rather throwing it in a burning fire.

Once the crew left, I took a knife (I know drama) and I cut up the fucked up painting in a million fucking pieces and threw it in the fucking trash. It was done. I was angry. I never had my art taken away like that before, but I knew I made a deal with myself and needed to act on it.

I woke up the next morning and walked to the art store down the street, grabbed fresh canvas, and all my materials. I had no money left over but I didn’t really give a fuck.

Stretch the new canvas and got to work.

I went to an art show that night and met up with some friends. I hadn’t told anyone about this situation yet because, when I’m really angry it takes me a while to process that feeling and I’m not a fan of gossip. But, apparently word spread around without my doing. The crew knew what happened that last day - and they knew it was wrong. Helpful and angry friends were ready to write out an email to the network but I insisted I had something better than an angry email, I had power and focus in my body to make something really good.

I wanted to paint our sun, the most intense and powerful object in our universe. I could feel it. I painted all week. I felt locked into my materials and just knew where they needed to go on the canvas.

Now it’s the last week of February. On the cusp of a global pandemic. I just confirmed a solo show with Muse Gallery - and was accepted in a Burning Man program and was booking my trip to Amsterdam in the spring.

There was a lot of energy in the air. I remember waking up that week and could feel it in my bones.

I spent the last week of February 2020 painting, laser focused, and happy. Fulfilling the promise I made to myself when I trashed the other canvas a few weeks ago. I could feel this painting forming a home in my heart.

Vivarium Sun was finished on my birthday March, 1, 2020.

Then the pandemic hit. Show cancelled, Burning Man project postponed, Amsterdam trip cancelled. Boom.

For the next two years I lived with my Sun painting, so many inquires to purchase her, but I knew she needed to go to a public space. A place where she could be enjoyed and seen by so many people. Once people saw the painting in person, they could feel it.

It’s been three years since I painted the original Vivarium Sun, and the memory of the moment lives with me. In the last decade no piece sticks out more than my sun painting.

For my 30th birthday, I’m releasing 30 hand painted copies of the Sun painting, each commissioned to allowed sizes.
I have a vision of hanging them all up in one room. THE SUN ROOM. But that will come later once they’re completed. I have the first painting, now there are 29 left to collect.

If you are interested in commissioning a piece, please review the commission information below and purchase through checkout. I will follow up with an email shortly confirming your piece and estimated delivery time.

Thank you for reading and being a part of this wild journey of mine.

And if you’ve been wanting your own Sun Piece, this is the time.

All My Love,

Zarina