From Conception to Canvas: The Story of the Painting 

Conceived and executed as my diploma painting, this work concludes six years of rigorous artistic training at the Imperial Academy of Arts in St. Petersburg, Russia.

This painting was, above all, a way to hold myself together. I was young, far from home, surrounded by unfamiliar people. I kept shifting between wanting to withdraw and wanting to declare myself fully. In the end, the part of me that needed to speak—about who I am and where I come from—was the one that led my hand.

The wish to paint a large canvas that would speak to the essence of my culture arose during my second year at the Academy, when I became aware of how little was known about Moldova, even among neighboring countries. I often encountered assumptions and uncertainties about our origins, identity, and language. Many were surprised to learn that Romanian is spoken in Moldova, not Russian, and that our cultural heritage is deeply connected to that of Romania through our shared history. Moldova and Romania remain, even today, closely linked—sister cultures shaped by common traditions and memory. 

This awareness stirred something inward, a gentle but insistent responsibility: if I did not speak of my culture, who would? The thought accompanied me quietly as I worked and grew. By my fourth year, the path became clear—the Coronation at Alba Iulia held within it the essence of shared history and belonging. Choosing this subject during the year of the Centenary of the Great Union gave the painting the feeling of a circle closing: personal journey and collective memory echoing one another on the canvas.

What came next were countless sleepless nights, filled with hundreds of sketches and countless attempts to find the right composition. By the summer of 2017, after two years of exploration, I finally felt content with the final sketch. The task was delicate: to translate the essence of that day into a compelling artistic vision, while honoring every historical detail—from costume hues to the figures and setting that defined the moment.

Preferring to work directly from life rather than imagination or photographs, I gathered all preparatory materials in the summer and autumn of 2017. Every costume was carefully hand-stitched, with the royal cloak being the most elaborate, adorned with gold-thread embroidery incorporating symbolic motifs across its surface. I also created a faithful reproduction of King Ferdinand’s crown and reconstructed all key interior elements, including the baldachin, velvet railings, and cushions. In the studio, I built a large podium for the models to achieve the correct and historically accurate perspective, viewed from below upward. Selecting the right models took considerable time, as I sought individuals who closely resembled the historical figures I intended to depict.

Once everything was ready, I started painting in January 2018. I opted for a monumental canvas (295 × 383 cm) so the King and Queen could be depicted at life size, making their presence tangible, and the size happened to fit my studio perfectly.

The portrait of King Ferdinand proved the most complex, as his likeness was constructed from four different models. One provided the overall head shape and posture, while others were used to capture specific details: ears, beard, and hands. The process was long and meticulous, demanding careful attention to each element.

For Queen Marie, I approached the portrait differently. The phrase “Queen Marie – Heart of Romania” perfectly captured her personality: creative, sensitive, yet politically formidable. My colleague, Ana, embodied her both physically and temperamentally. After thorough discussions of the Queen’s history and passions, Ana stepped into the role, enabling me to paint the portrait alla prima in just two days. 

Another complex task involved painting the soldiers holding the royal cloaks. Beyond the technical challenges, I aimed for each figure to reflect a different social perspective on this historical event.

Some display doubt or fear,

while others show complete admiration for their leader, even imitating his gestures and expressions.

Some recognize both virtues and flaws but remain silent,

and finally, there are those who remain detached, embodying the sentiment: “I don’t engage in politics.”

A similar process was involved in painting Mihail Pherekyde, the President of the Senate of Romania

His portrait was constructed through the study of three different models, each contributing specific physical characteristics and emotional nuances that allowed me to shape his final likeness with historical fidelity and psychological depth.

Every detail—the posture of a figure, the sweep of a cloak, the expression of a gaze—was orchestrated to reflect the human and emotional truths behind the ceremonial pageantry. The reign of King Ferdinand and Queen Marie marks one of the most luminous chapters in our cultural history, a period of renewed confidence and creative flourishing. Thus, the painting captures not only the moment of coronation itself, but the spirit of cultural blossoming that defined their era.

From the Quiet of the Studio to the Public Eye

In the summer of 2018, the work was presented as my graduation project at the Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture in St. Petersburg, Russia, where it received the highest distinction from the examination committee.

In December 2021, the painting was exhibited in my solo exhibition New Academia at Kulterra Gallery in Bucharest.

Between October 15, 2022, and late 2023, the painting was exhibited at the Museum of the Union in Alba Iulia, in the Coronation Hall, the original location of the 1922 Coronation ceremony.

During the spring of 2024, the painting was included in an exhibition at the National History Museum of Moldova, organized in collaboration with the Embassy of Romania in Chișinău.

In the autumn of 2024, the painting made its way to Bucharest, taking its place in an exhibition at the National History Museum of Romania in Bucharest.

Currently, the painting is preserved in my studio in Chișinău.