Anna Rolskaya
- 20 hours ago
- 4 min read
Anna Rolskaya is a Russian-Portuguese abstract painter in Lisbon. She trained as a calligrapher and font designer and ran her own online school for years. In 2020 she started painting, studying abstraction over Zoom with teachers she could never have reached in person otherwise. A piece begins with color, a combination that hits her like lightning. Rolskaya soaks the whole canvas, then paints large color masses in diluted acrylic. The colors slide and run together as they dry. For a long time she painted over those first translucent washes; now she tries to keep them. She has shown in Portugal, the UK, and Spain.
Q: You came to abstract painting from calligraphy and design, switching during COVID. What made you put down the nib and pick up a palette knife?
A: I came to design and calligraphy after 5 years of art school. I completed a post-grad course in font design in 2015 and mastered calligraphy and hand lettering. I launched an online school, became a blogger and influencer, and earned a decent income. That gave me knowledge and confidence. I had already succeeded in another creative field and could apply those skills to become a full-time artist and pursue my lifelong dream. I was burned out, and COVID felt like the world slowing down, giving me time and space to figure out my art practice. Many incredible tutors, like Amanda Bittner Hawkins, who would otherwise be available only in person, taught rare and valuable knowledge via Zoom. In summer 2020, I studied methods of abstraction, sketchbook development, and color palette building.
Q: A painting begins when a color combination hits you like lightning. What does that flash feel like?
A: I usually look for color combinations with half-closed eyes to blur details and sharp edges into a kaleidoscope-like stained-glass image and catch the subtle aura they emit when combined. I "smell" them in, creating a physical response in my belly, like a tickle, heat, or flash. That's when I know momentum has built up and I feel the urge to start painting soon.
Q: You start with thin, diluted washes that decide the whole painting early on. How do you know when that first layer has landed?
A: I start by watering the canvas on the easel with plenty of water. Then I paint large color masses with diluted acrylic paint, defining the painting's color palette and composition. I usually loosely follow flowers or interior design photos.
While I paint, colors merge, drip, slide down, and enter other color fields. Much interaction happens with the help of gravity, so I'm not only a painter there. After it dries, the flowing passages are beautiful; there's no trace of brush texture. It looks like it happened on its own, like a rock shaped by water, circles on water, or clouds in the sky. When most of the canvas is covered with paint, I stop. It's not about reaching a particular stage or feeling but about a visual cue and a reminder to stop, like an alarm.
Q: You used to rework the paintings that didn't work, now you're trying to protect those first translucent layers instead. What changed?
A: I love watercolor-like first passages. They remind me of my time in art school as a kid. There's something pure, honest, and vulnerable about them. They are loose, alive, and feel like they're still breathing. But I can't stop there, even if they look perfect to me. I want to paint; I'm not done yet. So I keep making marks, building depth and contrast, and adding highlights with gesso. I repeat this a few times until I'm happy with the result.
Unfortunately, after that, no translucent parts remain. So I challenged myself to preserve some and combine them with my heavy textured layers. I've learned a lot over the past 6 years and feel confident experimenting and following what my eyes enjoy.
Q: The canvas works as a safe field where everything is possible. What does that let you do?
A: Ha ha, I'm always afraid someone sees me jumping onto the canvas and attacking it with a brush or throwing paint with my bare hands. I look insane in that moment. I justify it by creating diversity in movement and marks. In fact, I don't know how to resolve the painting.
This approach always works! I've never thrown away a canvas because I gave up. But I patched one when I poked through it. Another time I took a metal sponge and scratched nearly half of the painting. Fun!
Q: What's next for the work?
A: I'm going to try raw canvas and staining. After seeing Frankenthaler at Bilbao's Guggenheim Museum last September, I purchased a lot of raw canvas but never touched it. I also plan to create more large-scale work, such as 180x150, as it challenges my approach to painting. I have to invent a new way of communicating my ideas: how to cover that huge space, what brushes I need, how to build texture and make marks visible. Later, I challenge myself to translate these new skills and vision back to my mid-size canvases. All this goes together with ongoing study of my personality limitations. Not everything I want to try I can actually integrate into my practice because of my temperament.
Portrait credit: Natali Volkova
