I like the beautiful people - noble, slim - and I can't change that about myself. These people, they are like flowers, a tasty meal or good wine. These images - which I see, I feel, I love - are idyllic representations of the people of old Russia. It is almost a genetic nostalgia I have.

When I think about what I'm going to do, I imagine myself in a spacious apartment with high ceilings, huge windows, wide window sills. I imagine the people who might live and move there. I think of myself as a cat who observes this strange unclear world. Their every movement seems so important for me - has a deep sense for me.

I usually create as I am inspired. These are not portraits of real people but of these imagined people. Sometimes I will make them on commission, but only if I can adapt the image of the real person to a character who is congenial to me. To make a portrait of a person that would be satisfying to me on all levels, I need to know and to love them.

I consciously distort the proportions of the faces and bodies. I have my own conception of the human body. For me, the classical standard of proportion in the human body is not always effective or evocative of what I wish to convey. People present themselves as what they'd like to represent, what they want to be, what they aspire to. The love which I experience for these imaginary people is not the same as my love or dislike of real people. It is an aesthetic kind of love.

The material with which I work dictates a certain sequence of actions. First I do a skeleton of the figure. I form the face and body one layer on top of another. Then I begin to mold the face. Sometimes during creation the face appears terrible, rough - like a scary monster. As I pass through a series of stages, a metamorphosis occurs. At that moment I have an overwhelming sensation that it is forming itself; I can only partially set this or that direction.

When the figure is almost ready, I know how to make the face of a beautiful kind human. It gives me pleasure. I dress her and decide on her accessories. But when I finish her eyes I feel such a sensation that I imagine I've given her a soul, and I hear her sigh. I give to her a tenor for her future life. How she will live or will die depends on the one to whom she will belong.

--Eka Valeva

Eka Valeva resides in Moscow, Russia. Her mixed media sculptures are mounted on canvas boards and therefore in relief, in case your computer screen deceives you.

Click for Ms. Valeva's web site.

(www.fortunecity.com/westwood/ prada/76/EkaValeva.html)