Many people of my generation cannot cope with this. Not all of them, of course. The lucky ones look down on us, the fallen, with satisfaction. For some reason, we fail. Regardless of our appearance, character, philosophy of life, or calendar of goals pinned to the wall, we cannot cope and give up. Love. I no longer know how to do it. For older generations, this is further proof that young and not-so-young people are falling straight into the abyss, immeasurably more foolish than their elders. They are doomed!

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I say: none of us are to blame. If we had the chance, we would be great at love. It is the God of Love who has retired. He no longer hears our prayers. Call Him whatever you want – Eros, Amor, Kamadeva, Cupid... He is tired and has grown old, perhaps weary like an old teacher who is tired of his unruly students, who are so lazy and cruel when it comes to learning the noble art of love.

At the moment, the God of Love is far away from us, on the edge of a cloud, watching our passions kindly, distantly, with a resigned smile. Love triangles and hexagons cannot move him. Burn a wreath of roses or your credit card in his honor, pour out an expensive bottle of perfume so that the aroma rises to the heavens in his honor—it doesn't matter. Maybe he'll lean on the cloud on his other elbow, maybe he'll drink a glass of wine. But it won't help, no. Your confused, turbulent emotional and sexual life will remain in the same painful, unresolved chaos as before.

What should you do, blessed and happy lovers? Go away, look the other way, so that misfortune does not stick to you, so that the ashes of suffering do not stain your feet and infect you with a virus of lovelessness.

What should you do if you stubbornly believe in love and don't want to give up? There is a lot you can do – you can dance naked in a forest meadow during the full moon in summer. You can recite love mantras for 40 days in a row, 108 times in the morning and evening. You can write prayers and make collages of your desires, send them into space, imagine light in your heart, and light candles for the Mother of God. You can hug sacred stones and trees – in your search for love, you will never be bored again.

Love – perhaps we have never really learned how to do it properly in the entire history of humanity. Perhaps for the first time we have enough time to notice it and be ashamed.

Today's lovers, don't look down on us – tomorrow you may be tearing up your furniture, searching for poison in despair over the fleeting nature of love.

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The exhibition “Evidence of the Official Death of Love” consists of a series of oil paintings in which I have painted, with compassion and humor, various phenomena that can go wrong and fail in love. I have tried to look at it from the detached, benevolent, but distant viewpoint of the God of Love. This is complemented by a group of sculptures entitled “One for Four,” which depicts headless eunuchs sharing a single lady among themselves. These are beings who have been forcibly deprived of both the physical and spiritual aspects of love.

Since my conscience no longer allows me to create works using purely classical techniques, which require a lot of resources and are harmful to breathing creatures, I try to make part of this process environmentally friendly. The paintings and sculptures are made from recycled materials, combining homemade paper, old drawings, books that no one wants to read anymore, and old fabrics that are too ugly to be used for sewing dresses.

Symbols and ancient gods from different corners of the world have thrown a love-filled party on canvas. If you don't feel cynical, tired of life, and worn out, use the exhibition as a cheerful booklet on the art of love. Little elves and fairies have studied the art of Tantra from ancient Indian and Persian manuscripts. They are very skilled, agile magical beings.

Can you do the same?