Hidden in the Drawer
“Yes, in the meantime these water colour paintings sleep in the drawer. They are mostly the newest works, some even not finished yet. Because if even the frame is not the boundary, so the margin on the paper is only the beginning of adventure. But some, created while travelling and presented as gifts, came back home with me only in photos. I can say that “Hidden in the Drawer” are my clourful moments, some last very long and are still going on, others are like memories about visits to my dear and close people. The newest works, as well as I myself, are waiting to be continued as they are still the most beautiful to me, and I don’t know what is going next: colourful frames, or the follow-up of the story, or collection… I am very curious,” – says Sigutė Ach
Green
Green silence carries the sloshing boat full of dreams and imaginings. New shores are waving spring-like and I must release my anxiety like a spark to the wind… Like a bird, like love, like pain… and let it go.
Green
Green silence carries the sloshing boat full of dreams and imaginings. New shores are waving spring-like and I must release my anxiety like a spark to the wind… Like a bird, like love, like pain… and let it go.
The Journey in the Embrace of the Sunny Sky
The Journey in the Embrace of the Sunny Sky
The Melody of the Mediterranean Sea
The Melody of the Mediterranean Sea
Peace at the Foot of the World Tree
Peace at the Foot of the World Tree
The Angel Caring about Feelings and the Little Sheep Full of Sky
The Angel Caring about Feelings and the Little Sheep Full of Sky
The Dream about Wings
The Dream about Wings
The very Green Dream of the Spring Wind about Wings and Flying
The very Green Dream of the Spring Wind about Wings and Flying
Peace and Quiet in the very Middle of Summer and the Daydreaming Cat
Peace and Quiet in the very Middle of Summer and the Daydreaming Cat
Stairs to Heaven
There are more of them. In the whiteness of nowhere little sheep would feel bad. Maybe they would thaw. Fortunately, they invented the blue fluffy sky. Somehow very much like the sheep themselves. It’s no wonder. When sheep invent clouds, they always look like lambs.
Stairs to Heaven
There are more of them. In the whiteness of nowhere little sheep would feel bad. Maybe they would thaw. Fortunately, they invented the blue fluffy sky. Somehow very much like the sheep themselves. It’s no wonder. When sheep invent clouds, they always look like lambs.
Very Charismatic Kitty
Very Charismatic Kitty
A bit Surprised Little Bird
A bit Surprised Little Bird
The Walk with Melting in the Blossoming of the Rising Sun and Scattering Seeds
The Walk with Melting in the Blossoming of the Rising Sun and Scattering Seeds
The Melody of Winged Morning
The Melody of Winged Morning
The Journey on the Waves of Peace with the Escort of Winged Sheep
The Journey on the Waves of Peace with the Escort of Winged Sheep
Here Comes the Morning on the Tops of Bent Grasses
Early morning dreams guarded by winged friends.
Here Comes the Morning on the Tops of Bent Grasses
Early morning dreams guarded by winged friends.
The Dancing Sunset
The time when the sky becomes my cozy home and the windows are opened for all soul birds will come again. Only the dancing sunset knows when this happens…
The Dancing Sunset
The time when the sky becomes my cozy home and the windows are opened for all soul birds will come again. Only the dancing sunset knows when this happens…
Two Friends Looking a bit Strange
Two Friends Looking a bit Strange
Evening
And the evening like caring mother covers us with warm dusk, blooming trees wave to us in fairytales…
Evening
And the evening like caring mother covers us with warm dusk, blooming trees wave to us in fairytales…
The Afternoon Tea with the Kitten of Gentleness
The Afternoon Tea with the Kitten of Gentleness
Tea Afternoon with the Kitten of Gentleness and the Sunny Day
In the swirl of the sunny day, with the cozy sheep of gentleness in my arms…
Tea Afternoon with the Kitten of Gentleness and the Sunny Day
In the swirl of the sunny day, with the cozy sheep of gentleness in my arms…
Dreams like Hats
Dreams like hats with springs, with winds decorate our thoughts in embrace, caress our feelings…
Dreams like Hats
Dreams like hats with springs, with winds decorate our thoughts in embrace, caress our feelings…
Dream Boats
Drifting the boats of our dreams in the rivers of feelings and blossoms…
Dream Boats
Drifting the boats of our dreams in the rivers of feelings and blossoms…
Blue
Blue, or maybe it was blue only at the beginning, when the light was spreading like stars, blossoms, convolvuli. Life lived in the flowing water and this was the most important. Later the World and the Words were born. After that everything started to speak. To sing. To awaken. Both of us were the part of that. Both of us are the morning through which one more day will come into the world, it will say the word and it will land on the dewy branch of jasmine.
Blue
Blue, or maybe it was blue only at the beginning, when the light was spreading like stars, blossoms, convolvuli. Life lived in the flowing water and this was the most important. Later the World and the Words were born. After that everything started to speak. To sing. To awaken. Both of us were the part of that. Both of us are the morning through which one more day will come into the world, it will say the word and it will land on the dewy branch of jasmine.
Idea
Idea is like a bird, and I often think if it makes the nest only in my mind by pulling up the memories, the dreams, the feelings, the associations from the far corners of my sub-consciousness. Or maybe it finds time to settle elsewhere: across the Oceans… And maybe someone like me is also scratching the paper with the pencil, thinking about the winds brought by the strange bird of ideas. It inspires the wish to create and flies, the strange Whiff is speeding… Where is its home? Where does it find peace? Maybe there’s the country where thousands of enormous trees support the Heaven full of Gods and legends. Following the made-up wings I sit down under the shadow of That Tree, put my feet into the Time stream rippling by and… there’s no time, only the brush in my hand and… the white sheet of paper becomes more and more patchy…
Idea
Idea is like a bird, and I often think if it makes the nest only in my mind by pulling up the memories, the dreams, the feelings, the associations from the far corners of my sub-consciousness. Or maybe it finds time to settle elsewhere: across the Oceans… And maybe someone like me is also scratching the paper with the pencil, thinking about the winds brought by the strange bird of ideas. It inspires the wish to create and flies, the strange Whiff is speeding… Where is its home? Where does it find peace? Maybe there’s the country where thousands of enormous trees support the Heaven full of Gods and legends. Following the made-up wings I sit down under the shadow of That Tree, put my feet into the Time stream rippling by and… there’s no time, only the brush in my hand and… the white sheet of paper becomes more and more patchy…
Frost
In the smoky frost the heart is warmed up by the belief of what is bright and stable. From here I draw the power to see the beauty, to surprise again and again looking at the fragile glass decoration. Important symbols of life come from the inner temple guarding the childhood full of naivety, pure joy, anticipation of the miracle inside. At that time the world was so immense and eternal, even the summer was the Eternity, and the snow… first sticky snow was the real Event! Then only wool mittens glued with ice, and the burning cheeks… Now, when I look at the decorated Christmas Tree with glass decorations, bringing to mind my Granny, in my Mother’s home, it seems as if these glass bubbles reflect not only my child nose, but also my Mother’s child nose… Such Festive Eternity embraces what is fragile and becomes Everlasting. And facing all this the Miracle comes into my heart…
Frost
In the smoky frost the heart is warmed up by the belief of what is bright and stable. From here I draw the power to see the beauty, to surprise again and again looking at the fragile glass decoration. Important symbols of life come from the inner temple guarding the childhood full of naivety, pure joy, anticipation of the miracle inside. At that time the world was so immense and eternal, even the summer was the Eternity, and the snow… first sticky snow was the real Event! Then only wool mittens glued with ice, and the burning cheeks… Now, when I look at the decorated Christmas Tree with glass decorations, bringing to mind my Granny, in my Mother’s home, it seems as if these glass bubbles reflect not only my child nose, but also my Mother’s child nose… Such Festive Eternity embraces what is fragile and becomes Everlasting. And facing all this the Miracle comes into my heart…
Sunny
The dusk reigns outside. It emphasizes the reality of light even more. Small cozy lights in the windows of cafes are even brighter. After the sun hides, lanterns, flashlights, garlands appear and the overwhelming darkness retreats, or maybe it is dancing dressed-up and beautiful. I will paint the feeling of the sunny wind, it will shine the heat of the summer midday. It will get rid of the drowse and invite to open one more petal of the soul. In this yellow dripping light the power to create, to be, to move is born and it is asking for the bigger sheet of water-colour paper and the braver movement of the brush.
Sunny
The dusk reigns outside. It emphasizes the reality of light even more. Small cozy lights in the windows of cafes are even brighter. After the sun hides, lanterns, flashlights, garlands appear and the overwhelming darkness retreats, or maybe it is dancing dressed-up and beautiful. I will paint the feeling of the sunny wind, it will shine the heat of the summer midday. It will get rid of the drowse and invite to open one more petal of the soul. In this yellow dripping light the power to create, to be, to move is born and it is asking for the bigger sheet of water-colour paper and the braver movement of the brush.
The Moment
I am kneeling on the bank of the river of memories. This time I see it as a book, I am not reading, I am not taking part… I am just watching the flowing waters of time and let my memories go, or maybe these are impressions of what is coming and of what I would like to have for the eternal stormy sea of Existence. Then I become free and Life takes me back: the birds are spreading the wings, the flowers are opening their petals. This moment is not mine. I am this moment. Very live eternal moment.
The Moment
I am kneeling on the bank of the river of memories. This time I see it as a book, I am not reading, I am not taking part… I am just watching the flowing waters of time and let my memories go, or maybe these are impressions of what is coming and of what I would like to have for the eternal stormy sea of Existence. Then I become free and Life takes me back: the birds are spreading the wings, the flowers are opening their petals. This moment is not mine. I am this moment. Very live eternal moment.
The Autumn Picture
I am the part of the autumn picture, I belong to the time, to the earth and to yellow leaves. And to brown, especially for those that rustle. I call the day, the morning and the evening my faith. The night is too mysterious, it calls me in the dream and I wake up in the morning when it is already gone. The night…. So many big and little lights decorate it, as the charmed train, illuminated and belonging to no one, it captures those who write poetry after midnight in the empty little cafe with the drowsy waitress. Or those, who are going to travel tonight. The night likes travelers, it reads their minds, looks through their wishes, and choosing the strangest ones makes them come true, without ever thinking of what can happen… the night, you know. I will put the yellow flower in the vase like the lamp, and it will sit by my side, big and very quiet.
The Autumn Picture
I am the part of the autumn picture, I belong to the time, to the earth and to yellow leaves. And to brown, especially for those that rustle. I call the day, the morning and the evening my faith. The night is too mysterious, it calls me in the dream and I wake up in the morning when it is already gone. The night…. So many big and little lights decorate it, as the charmed train, illuminated and belonging to no one, it captures those who write poetry after midnight in the empty little cafe with the drowsy waitress. Or those, who are going to travel tonight. The night likes travelers, it reads their minds, looks through their wishes, and choosing the strangest ones makes them come true, without ever thinking of what can happen… the night, you know. I will put the yellow flower in the vase like the lamp, and it will sit by my side, big and very quiet.
The Summer Day
I dedicate this to the summer day wishing to gather full arms of warmth. The day filling full handfuls and all corners of the heart with miraculous, leaning on light. It is as if a short rest, when joy and flight stop before going together with the sun from the Eternal Wheel down the hill, quicker and quicker towards the starry sky, when we bravely look for warmth, coziness, faith in ourselves. And then we can bring back to memory the album or the old disk and the whole life, and even in the snowstorm, we will be illuminated by this miraculously warm light. At such moments it seems to me that it is snowing with petals or elder blossoms.
The Summer Day
I dedicate this to the summer day wishing to gather full arms of warmth. The day filling full handfuls and all corners of the heart with miraculous, leaning on light. It is as if a short rest, when joy and flight stop before going together with the sun from the Eternal Wheel down the hill, quicker and quicker towards the starry sky, when we bravely look for warmth, coziness, faith in ourselves. And then we can bring back to memory the album or the old disk and the whole life, and even in the snowstorm, we will be illuminated by this miraculously warm light. At such moments it seems to me that it is snowing with petals or elder blossoms.
The Angel of the Travelling Sun
The Angel of the Travelling Sun
The Gesture Towards the Booming
The Gesture Towards the Booming
To Embrace Yourself
To Embrace Yourself
The Autumn Duo
The Autumn Duo
The Carriage
The Carriage
The Green Angel
The Green Angel
The Walk of the Princess
The Walk of the Princess
The Journey for Two
The Journey for Two
When it’s Spring
When it’s Spring
The Little Cow in the Background of the World
The Little Cow in the Background of the World
From the Fairy Tale
From the Fairy Tale
Listening to the Birds in the Vineyard
Listening to the Birds in the Vineyard
The Bright Little Bird
The Bright Little Bird
The Light Dog
The Light Dog
Autumn in the Park
Autumn in the Park
Flying with the Dreams
Flying with the Dreams
The Journey in the very Middle of Spring
The Journey in the very Middle of Spring
The Day when the Dreams Visit
The Day when the Dreams Visit
In the Middle of the Morning
In the Middle of the Morning
To Gather Words
To Gather Words
The Very Happy Dog
When there were no such wonderful white shoes, the dog was like a dog, violent and that’s it… Fortunately its paw seemed too short to me and we had to buy two pairs of shoes and two caps, of course…
The Very Happy Dog
When there were no such wonderful white shoes, the dog was like a dog, violent and that’s it… Fortunately its paw seemed too short to me and we had to buy two pairs of shoes and two caps, of course…
The Loneliness of the Quiet and Slow Evening
Violet Evening or Blue covers everything with the feeling of bilberries or lilacs. I am writing this when it is still April, when I was painting this it was most certainly January… But this world is so wonderful because you can enter into the evening smelling with dusk whenever you like… So let’s meet on the bench under the apple tree… The sky already highlighted the windows.
The Loneliness of the Quiet and Slow Evening
Violet Evening or Blue covers everything with the feeling of bilberries or lilacs. I am writing this when it is still April, when I was painting this it was most certainly January… But this world is so wonderful because you can enter into the evening smelling with dusk whenever you like… So let’s meet on the bench under the apple tree… The sky already highlighted the windows.
The Angel of the Journey and the Guardian
The picture where I find something which I was not looking for is as if the fairytale “Go somewhere and bring something” has come true. While painting the bird it becomes the ship, or maybe two birds. The goddess travels by ship or maybe by galley, and everything is being observed by the Space, or maybe the Time… Or maybe by the Violet Mystery. I don’t try to learn “what it is”. The little piece of Mystery seems the most important to me.
The Angel of the Journey and the Guardian
The picture where I find something which I was not looking for is as if the fairytale “Go somewhere and bring something” has come true. While painting the bird it becomes the ship, or maybe two birds. The goddess travels by ship or maybe by galley, and everything is being observed by the Space, or maybe the Time… Or maybe by the Violet Mystery. I don’t try to learn “what it is”. The little piece of Mystery seems the most important to me.
The Time for Dreams
The Time for Dreams
The very Light Muse
The very Light Muse
With the Unicorn
With the Unicorn
The Flowery Dance
The Flowery Dance
Two very Sunny Kittens
Two very Sunny Kittens
Two Hares Blowing the Clouds
Two Hares Blowing the Clouds
Very Big Happiness
Very Big Happiness
The Ladybug and its Light Mood
The Ladybug and its Light Mood
The Dream about the Bridge across the Sea
The Dream about the Bridge across the Sea
Somewhere Deep the Spring Starts
The beginning of spring… let it be possible any month of the year, if you have enough courage and fortitude, gentleness and faith to hold open palms to the Incarnation of Spring, Birth, Light… Somewhere deep there is always the silence of doubts, and on the surface pink naive waters of dreams, but…the Light is everywhere, so let it happen…
Somewhere Deep the Spring Starts
The beginning of spring… let it be possible any month of the year, if you have enough courage and fortitude, gentleness and faith to hold open palms to the Incarnation of Spring, Birth, Light… Somewhere deep there is always the silence of doubts, and on the surface pink naive waters of dreams, but…the Light is everywhere, so let it happen…
To Wait for the Feelings
To Wait for the Feelings
The Little God of Fish and Birds
The Little God of Fish and Birds
The Little Fantasy
The Little Fantasy
The Stairs Up
The Stairs Up
The Little Dolphin
The fish to me are very much like birds, and the biologists will not be surprised at all… The birds are the fish that learnt to fly. Actually, when they become characters, they easily transform their fins into wings and fly away… under water.
The Little Dolphin
The fish to me are very much like birds, and the biologists will not be surprised at all… The birds are the fish that learnt to fly. Actually, when they become characters, they easily transform their fins into wings and fly away… under water.
Feelings and Thoughts
Feelings and Thoughts
The Prayer
The Prayer
To Dive
To Dive
The Winged Secrets
The Winged Secrets
The Sky Swing
The Sky Swing
The Humble Bird
The Humble Bird
The Flower-beds
Now, living again in the embrace of nature, I am the real expert of plants. I forget the time wading in the meadows, squatting down beside little plans, I absorb their forms, I learn to be the flower in the meadow: to live, to bloom, to mature myself, to seed and… to disappear, respectfully and humbly letting the nearby plant to bloom.
The Flower-beds
Now, living again in the embrace of nature, I am the real expert of plants. I forget the time wading in the meadows, squatting down beside little plans, I absorb their forms, I learn to be the flower in the meadow: to live, to bloom, to mature myself, to seed and… to disappear, respectfully and humbly letting the nearby plant to bloom.
