Not Painting: Hariclia Hristea

Inside her perpetually changing apartment, full of vibrant paintings of waterlilies, mismatched antique dishware and a million distinct scents, Hariclia Hristea shuffles from task to task. 

Not painting makes her antsy.

How she went her whole life not painting is a mystery. She hadn’t even touched a paintbrush since her childhood in Romania, and even then, with those second-hand paints and canvases, it was as if she had “two left hands.” She opted for medical textbooks, patients and prescription pads instead, spending her life working as a psychiatrist. 

However, one day, four, maybe five, years ago, the creativity that bubbled inside of her boiled over in a vibrant flood of passion and creation.  

Her walls are now completely overgrown with beautiful paintings of flowers and landscapes. She has cupboards full of stacks of these projects and her friends’ walls are adorned with them. In the corner of her warm, colorful apartment sits an easel with three or four works in progress waiting on its ledge. Next to it sits a shelf with every art supply imaginable. Every possible brush, palette knife, marker, paint tube and pen sit in assorted jars, proudly on display. Even she admits that in 100 years it would be impossible to use every single supply, but each plays a critical part in her creative process. 

As a child growing up under a communist regime, there were no abundances of anything, let alone art supplies. So, as she began to create, a fear of consuming her supplies festered. Now, every orchid, rose and lily is given the presidential treatment. They grow on professional canvases and are watered with the fanciest of paints. 

She doesn’t care how the finished product looks or how much paint she wasted anymore, it’s the process that makes her happy. She says that flowers are “little miracles” that make people happy. And not painting them makes her antsy.