Bio and Artist Statement


My dear Fans and not-Fans!
I just wrote my artist statement because I feel it is time.
I am going to be 50 years old at the end of this week.
I have more 50 years to work on my art, so it will be kind of "middle age statement". Please forgive me any extreme expressions and Russian spelling as well :0)

Statement before the statement:
I "quite not much agree" with the need to write the statement in a first place.
It is easier to paint than answer on questions as:
why do I paint :0)
or why do I paint that
or how long does it take
or where do I get my ideas
or what was I thinking about
or --- this is my favourite!---
How did you become Olga Perry?
We got this life to live and worse that could happened -- we die.
Too bad!
We all got super lucky to be here in a first place, compare to all who never had a chance. At this level, there is no meaning of life to get some prize or achieve some goal. We already have been honored --- to get a human skin. And Gods envy us. It's so special because time-to-go-bell could ring anytime. There is no time to be bored. And there is no "thing" or person that can make us happy, except ourselves.
I see the meaning of my life as a process of being here. To this point, my art is not the goal, it is the product of my pleasure of being.
Art is a way of life and should be a part of all things.


I have been through dramatic career changes including classic piano, engeneering, medical school, medical doctor, OB/GYN, Ph.D., major of Russian Army, business owner.
I moved to USA in 1995.
My life in the States has changed according to the speed at which I have learned English, including a baby-sitter, department store cashier, hostess, waitress, customer service, some computer programming and business college, a corporate manager and finally the vice president of a renewable energy corporation.

At 46 I took my first drawing class, year later I was introduced to clay. Looks like it will be no more changes on my "profession" list.
I found everything I need.

I was seeking for an advice from highly respectful Master while making my first steps in art in 2001,
He said,- "Olga, do not even start if you can live without "it".

My brain at that time was presented by huge, monolith, material, heavy, controlling and skeptical piece. And Masters words skipped my mind and even more --- I found his advice too 'extravagante'
Nevertheless --- two years later I dropped and gave up "most" desirable things --- expensive toys, comfortable living, prestige job, security, retirement, and became an artist. Starving artist because I never remember when I supposed to eat.
The Master's words got me and time does not matter.
There is the place for everything ---- if one could just remember that place.

If I did not bore you yet, please continue to read :
My BIO :0)

I was born in 1956, September, on very east point of Russia, Saberia, Magadan, near nine months frozen Hunter Sea. It took me 50 years to walk around the globe and stop on the other side of the Pacific --- to find out what I am me. Because all previous time I was trying to become somebody else.

My father was big shot communist and highly qualified chemical engineer. My Mom was chemical engineer as well.
6 months after my birth my family moved to Moscow suburb and I was so lucky to live 16 years at the same house. Big, light, surrounded by cherry trees, beautiful gardens, orchards and meadows. Four seasons of astonishing colors, smells, winds.
I was 4th child and only girl, a princess with my only room privilege and one room summer cottage on the back of the gardens -- in my own possession.
My parents did not change the course in the parenthood immediately after my birth and my grandma was too old to baby-sit me.
So as far as I remember myself I was always competing with my older brothers and their friends in swimming, biking, skating, skiing, soccer, hunting, fishing, making bombs, fires, and other such activities.

When I was seven my parents suddenly decided to cut off my "forest lifestyle'.
They bought XIXth century, hand crafted, beautiful, W.W.II trophy instrument, piano.
And as my "thank you" ---the deal was ---
eight following years of additional musical school and 2 hours of practice every day.
It was my first and last contract in my life I "signed" with no thinking.

We lived in 30,000 little town, and my dad was one of the leaders. Time was perfect.
My generation was first after war and terror. Stalin was already dead, older people were very happy then, resting after camps, war, and deaths.
Everyone had a job, it was enough food, free schools, medicine, free tiny apartments for everyone.
The economy, science and culture were blasting. Every political paid holiday was just happy times ---- then everyone wore the best clothes and celebrated life with flowers, balloons, laugh, music, orchestras, dancing, singing.
No one was murdered in that town for 16 years of my presence . There were 2 cops, one judge, and one colossal some soft classified factory. Everyone was working at this factory, we were one big happy family --- and we did not know the other.
At that time we all - simple Russians-- have had only one cloud on the horizon ---- Americans. And as we were told --- they had very bad attitude issues.

My father was fanatic book collector and his hobby was --- book restoration. We had books everywhere in the house --- mostly Russian, Soviet, and Foreign classics, a lots of history, encyclopedias, dictionaries, and art..

When I was six, I found my father secret book world --- his hidden behind and underneath of everything ---- collection of SCI - Fi ---- about hundred pocket size soft covered, tattered, tiny edition as sample of BAD, outrages lies from THERE. Books which could not be bought in the real life soviet book store. At that time.
Ray Bredberry, Arthur C.Clarke, Azek Asimov, and such.
Those books changed my world, they replaced normal children's story tales. I was reading those books over and over in the dusty attick of our house, in the bushes of our garden, or at night with flash light under the blanket. And soviet reality was melting in my brain, bringing the message -- wow! everything is possible. And that got me most ---- my sweet dad kept all those manuals in a secret place, like some kind