I don’t paint scenes; I paint states of feeling. Every mark—knife-gouged line, spray haze, finger-smeared oil—records the emotion moving through me in that moment. When the surface finally crackles, the piece is finished and my mood is spent. From then on, the canvas belongs to you.
Beginning in 2019, I started hunting for a voice—oil only, pushing cubism into raw expressionism until the shapes felt mine. By 2021 I knew what a Sannikov canvas should look like: deep, layered colour planes scraped and rebuilt until they almost hummed. 2022 made me bolder; I mixed fast-drying spray with slow-drying oil so I could carve, smear and revisit the surface in one session. Oil only paintings became history at the start of 2023, which was dedicated to black-and-white. Even a couple of spray-only pieces emerged—proof that raw emotion can live in simplicity. 2024 pulled every lesson together: bright, large-format works where dense oil textures and quick spray gestures clash and click inside the same frame.
Collectors tell me a Sannikov painting keeps changing. What looked like joy last year might read as restlessness today, because the work isn’t a picture on the wall; it’s a mirror of the soul that shifts with your own seasons. That open-ended dialogue is why I stay self-taught and border-free. I refuse the safety rails of any academy or regional “style.”
My only rule: be honest, be bold, be alive.