The path of Vladimir Kirillov in art is not merely a change of genres, but a true transformation of consciousness. His signature style, which can be defined as Visionary Mystical Surrealism, was the result of deep personal searching and unexplainable revelations. From classical portraiture, he transitioned to creating multidimensional worlds, receiving recognition from Vanga herself and realizing his role as a conduit for cosmic energy. In this interview, the artist speaks in detail about his visions, his creative silence, and his search for truth.
Vladimir, your career began with portraits, but later a gift for creating cosmic landscapes opened up within you. How did this transition from earthly faces to the infinity of the Universe occur?
I have loved to draw since childhood. In the 5th grade, I attended an art club at the Pioneer House, but only for three months. The teacher, Efim Naumovich Godovsky, said that when I finished eight grades, he would help me enroll in an art college in Almaty. I was indignant, though I didn’t show it: “What right does he have to tell me what to do?” And I never appeared there again, no matter how hard he tried to bring me back. From 1984 to 1990, I decided to take up painting anyway and started with portraits. This was likely my training, to prepare for what awaited me ahead. I had to master realism, and as is well known, the portrait is a complex genre in painting.
The transition happened, one might say, strangely. It occurred on December 25, 1991. At seven in the evening, my daughter Emilia and I went out into the yard; she sat on a swing, and I began to push her. Suddenly she said: “Daddy, look what a beautiful bird in the sky.” She was 5 years old then. I turned toward the house and saw a glowing object in the sky in the shape of a triangle. I watched it as if spellbound for about a minute, and then it simply vanished. My occiput (back of the head) was burning intensely, as were the palms of my hands. My daughter asked what it was; I said: “I don’t know yet, time will tell.”
You mentioned that during the creative process, you felt as if someone was guiding your hand. How do you interpret this experience now: was it a dialogue with your subconscious or a connection with some global information field?
The continuation began in July 1992. The back of my head would start to burn intensely, and after that, I began to see paintings as if inside myself; they came in color. I made quick sketches (they came several at a time), transferred them to canvas, and painted in oil—I painted quickly and easily. I had a feeling that someone was guiding my hand. And on the wrist of my right hand, near the thumb, a bony growth appeared. Most likely, it was a connection with the subconscious through the hypothalamus.
Your paintings are born "inside" and transferred to the canvas exactly as you see them. How exactly do these images come to you—as an instantaneous flash or as a gradual manifestation of a frame from the depths of memory?
Yes, the paintings appeared as if inside me, that is, in my head (in Eastern philosophy, it’s something like the “third eye”). After all, the hypothalamus is located in the back of the head, so that is where I saw them. And I transferred them to the canvas exactly as I saw them. It’s also similar to how a photographer develops film after having taken a picture. Но before that, the back of my head would start to burn intensely, and after that, I would begin to see the paintings and quickly fix them on a piece of paper. Then I transferred them to the canvas.
Space is generally considered dark and cold, but your works are filled with vibrant color. What color is "your" personal Cosmos, and why was it important for you to convey it exactly that way?
The natural cosmos is dark. Но my internal cosmos is created in His image. This means my internal world is the same as my paintings, which I painted from 1992 to 1999 (about two hundred works). I was likely fulfilling my creative duty. My canvases are executed in the style of surrealism, abstractionism, and symbolism, combining geometric shapes with cosmic motifs. Often I explore themes of the complexity of human existence, the search for meaning, and spirituality through the prism of universal plots, mysterious spheres, or neural connections.
There was a very long break in your creative biography. What was happening to your "inner artist" during this time—were you accumulating visual experience "for the drawer," or did you deliberately close that door?
My creative break was given for the reflection of what had been done. But the process was not stopped; it took place in a different form: a fascination with esotericism, psychology, philosophy, and dreams. As one acquaintance said: “Not from books to paintings, but from paintings to books.”
What became that very point of no return that forced you to take up the brushes again? Was it an external sign or an accumulated critical mass of images that demanded an outlet?
Most likely, a creative period in that cosmic direction simply ended. And I returned to where my creative path as an artist began—I mean portraits—to continue doing what I love and paint the pictures I want. I enjoy most of all painting pictures where a female face is present.
About two hundred of your paintings have scattered across the world. Is there a work among them that was physically difficult for you to part with?
Yes, that is true—about two hundred paintings have spread throughout the world. I did not have a feeling of greed, even though they were a part of my soul, because keeping them for myself made no sense. There is a story connected to that period. In 1996, I was collaborating with some Bulgarians. One of them, Vladimir Dobrev, asked me to paint a picture for him personally, and I gave two more to his colleagues as gifts. Later they told me that they had visited Vanga (one of them was her relative). Vanga asked: “Why did you leave in the car what you brought from Kazakhstan? You have paintings by an artist there, they are very unusual—he first receives them ‘informationally’ and then paints them with paint on canvas.”
She told them facts that only my family knew: that I was mute until the age of 5 and only spoke after I fell through a hole in the ice and was saved by a man. And that my grandfather was originally from North Macedonia, where she herself was from. I was in shock. She explained to them that she “read” the information from the energy I left when I was painting those pictures.
You said that the value of a painting is based on a person's subjective desire to "possess the beautiful." What energy, in your opinion, do your canvases bring into the homes of collectors?
From my point of view, it is the possession of the beautiful. Apparently, a collector acquires the work of an artist with whom they are similar in energy and inner world. In surrealist works, the author usually does not give ready-made answers but invites the viewer to become a co-author of the meaning, relying on visual keys: fluid “melting” forms, fantastic plots. I strive to evoke a sense of mystical awe, contemplativeness, and deep immersion into the subconscious. This symbolizes the connection between the material and the spiritual, evoking a sense of belonging to something greater.
How important is the balance between material success and creative freedom for you? Does the demand from collectors help you create more boldly or, conversely, does it impose responsibility?
If there is creative success, then material success will not be long in coming. I adhere to the logic of Salvador Dali. The demand from collectors helps one create because it is financial support, but naturally, it also imposes responsibility.
Material stability helps the artist to experiment without risk. Creativity requires serious investments: the purchase of high-quality paints and canvases, payment for travel to exhibitions, and document processing. Material success is important not as an end in itself, but as a tool for autonomy, allowing the artist to engage in what they consider important as a creative individual.
Fashion in art is fleeting. How do you manage to maintain authenticity and loyalty to your signature style without giving in to modern trends?
Because my work is connected with the most beautiful creation of the Almighty—woman. She will never disappear from the canvases of artists, and in my paintings, She will always be. Therefore, neither fashion nor modern trends have power here. Instead of rushing between styles, I create series (for example, 5 canvases each) united by a single theme and technique—this makes the style recognizable. I might add only a current element (a trendy color or an idea) so that the work is modern but remains mine. Sincerity and depth of execution live longer than a superficial pursuit of fashion.
Possessing strong figurative thinking, do you see your future works in volume (3D) even before the first drop of paint touches the canvas?
At the time when I was painting those “cosmic” pictures, 3D did not even exist, at least not in my city. But my works are a vivid example of how I sought to convey the processes of energy I saw. One can guess forms reminiscent of celestial bodies and nebulae, intertwined with biomorphic structures. Radiant spheres from which concentric circles emanate—this is a symbol of prana or an energy center. The contrast between the cold cosmos at the top and the warm, pulsating landscape at the bottom creates a sense of dynamic energy balance. Smooth color transitions emphasize the complexity and multidimensionality of the world I was depicting.
What main feeling or thought do you strive to "implant" into the mind of the viewer today? Does your art influence the perception of the world of those who look at your works?
Yes, art has a profound influence on the perception of the world. If I had to choose one feeling, it is involvement (belonging). As an artist, I want the viewer to stop being just an observer and become a co-author. This is a state where the boundaries between the viewer and the work of art blur, evoking a deep internal response.
