• Stella Polare Artist
    • Social labyrynths
    • Lettre H
    • Kaukokaipuu
    • Children are the life flowers
    • Stella Polare Author
    • Stella Polare Artist Ru
  • Créations
    • Page créations artistiques
    • Architecture of Dream
    • Paintings
      • Abstract Paintings
    • Art Drawings
      • Minotaure
    • Drawings
    • Minotaure
    • linocuts
    • Paintings
    • Photos
    • Stella Polare Artist racine / art drawings
  • Maison Stella Polare
    • JEMA 2026
  • Graphic design
    • Graphic design Ru
    • Stella Polare Artist / AI works
  • Shop
    • Pareos Stella Polare
    • linocuts
    • Livre
    • Manteaux
    • Scarves
      • Silk Road / Oriental Motifs
      • Minotaure Scarves
      • Flower dreams
      • abstract silk scarves
      • Mother Love Silk Scarves
      • Animal Silk Scarves
      • Dreamscape scarves
      • Scarf Collections by City
        • Sologne Collection
        • Paris
        • Puteaux
      • Home Foulards
      • Silk
      • Wool-silk
      • Modal-silk
      • Coton
      • Viscose
      • Polyester
    • Tote bag
      • Puteaux 1
  • Press
  • Abstract Paintings
  • Ode à Puteaux
  • Autrice illustratrice jeunesse
    • Le Conte de la Lettre H
  • You see, I see
0,00 € 0 Cart
HomeYou see, I see

You see, I see

You see an object. I see what it reveals about you.

“Plein Soleil” Exhibition. You see flip-flops. I see a curse.

Daido Moriyama “Lettres d’amour à la photographie” You see photos, I see a Living Being learning to Disappear

You see the white cube, I see the hospital walls

stellapolare_artiste_paris

Uzbek artist (from Tashkent) based in Paris.
You see an object, I see a story.
↓ Art, Exhibitions, Books
You See a Jug. I See a Drain. At first, The Wet R You See a Jug. I See a Drain. At first, The Wet Room by Daniel Dewar and Grégory Gicquel feels almost sensuous. Silk floats across the walls, its shimmering surface recalling the skin of a fish; pigments spread through the fabric, while mirror carp, catfish, duckweed, water buttercups and other species of freshwater flora and fauna emerge among watery stains and gradations. Water is present here not simply as an image. It participates in the making of the work itself: it penetrates the fibres of the silk, carries the pigment and leaves behind traces of its own movement. The fabric seems to refuse the stability of a conventional pictorial surface, becoming instead a current flowing through the exhibition space. Yet beside this almost liberated movement of water stand ceramic pots, jugs, vessels, a washbasin and a bidet — objects designed to perform the opposite operation: to contain water, direct it, organise its movement or make it disappear. At some point, I stopped seeing this room simply as a story about fish and aquatic environments. You see a jug. I see a drain. more on stellapolare.fr On this channel, I share my reflections on contemporary art, exhibitions, photography, museums, and the ideas that shape our perception of memory, identity, childhood, culture, and everyday life. Every exhibition begins with the same question: You see... I see... Because every artwork tells two stories: the one we immediately recognize, and the one we discover when we learn to look a little longer. 🖋️ Read more of my essays and artistic projects: https://stellapolare.fr/ 🧣 Discover my silk scarf collection, inspired by art, memory, and everyday beauty: https://stellapolare.fr/product-category/designer-scarves/silk-scarves/ 🗼 Exploring museums and exhibitions in Paris: https://www.tiqets.com/en/things-to-do-in-paris-c66746/ 📩 Work with me / Curatorial collaborations / Speaking: khulkar.yunusova@gmail.com #ContemporaryArt #ArtCriticism #MuseumReview #ArtEssay #stellapolareartiste
You see drawing of my new series "Architecture of You see drawing of my new series "Architecture of dreams" #stellapolareartiste #khulkaryunusova #contemporaryart #drawing
At the exhibition of Brion Gysin, the last museum, At the exhibition of Brion Gysin, the last museum, #books #breath #stellapolareartiste #khulkaryunusova
You see bra, I see Matzher screaming, and staying You see bra, I see Matzher screaming, and staying "goe, Leavve youur Hasband and all your dauughters, and go k... yourself" the voice I have Heard, Still under impression, how @annettemessager would know that, like 1 balzac, #motherartist #motherhood #khulkaryunusova #stellapolareartiste #ContemporaryArt
You see colours. I see entropy. At first, Brion G You see colours. I see entropy. At first, Brion Gysin’s work can appear almost exuberant. Colour, rhythm, repetition, fragments of writing, shifting surfaces, optical effects. Everything seems to vibrate. Yet the longer I stayed with his retrospective at the Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris, the more I felt that this abundance was not really about decoration. It was about disorder. Not chaos for its own sake, but entropy: the slow transformation of a system, the loss of fixed order, the possibility that meaning might emerge precisely when structures begin to break apart. You see colours. I see entropy. The exhibition, the first major museum retrospective devoted to Gysin in Paris, gathers more than 140 works and traces a practice that moved constantly between painting, writing, photography, sound poetry, performance, experimental cinema and music. Gysin is often associated with the Beat Generation, especially through his friendship and collaborations with William S. Burroughs, but the exhibition makes clear that he was never simply part of one movement. He was interested in borders precisely because he wanted to cross them. Perhaps that is why the Cut-up becomes such an important key to understanding his work. In 1959, at the Beat Hotel in Paris, Gysin developed the Cut-up method as a radical extension of earlier Dada strategies: a text is physically cut into fragments and then rearranged. The sentence loses its original sequence. Meaning is no longer controlled entirely by the author. Chance enters the structure. Cut. Displace. Reassemble. See what appears. What fascinates me is that Gysin does not treat fragmentation as destruction. He uses it as a generative force. The original order disappears, but something else becomes possible. That is where I see entropy. A closed structure opens. A sentence ceases to be stable. A sequence begins to mutate. The system loses certainty, but gains potential. As someone who grew up in Uzbekistan, this idea immediately resonated with another visual tradition for me. I thought of the mosaics of Samarkand and Bukhara, of ornamental surfaces built from countless fragments that acquire meaning only through relation.
You see an eye. I see mentorship. Sometimes the m You see an eye. I see mentorship. Sometimes the most powerful work in an artist’s retrospective is not made by the artist himself. At the Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris, I stopped in front of Keith Haring’s Hommage à Brion Gysin (1986). The work was created after Gysin’s death, when Haring was in Tokyo and unable to travel to Paris. He sent the drawing in an envelope, together with a handwritten letter asking that it be burned with Gysin during the cremation. What moved me was not only the gesture of farewell. It was the language Haring chose. He wrote that he felt honoured to have known Gysin and to have benefited from his teaching. Then the letter ended with a small permutational poem: FOR MY TEACHER LOVE ALWAYS LOVE ALL WAYS LOVE WAYS ALL The words remain almost the same. Only their order changes. And suddenly the meaning changes with them. That is where mentorship becomes visible. A teacher does not always leave behind a style. Sometimes he leaves behind a way of thinking. Brion Gysin had made permutation, chance and Cut-up central to his practice. He broke language apart in order to discover meanings that linear order concealed. In Haring’s farewell, that method returns in an intimate form. The student does not imitate the teacher’s work. He uses the teacher’s logic to speak in his own voice. This is what fascinates me most about artistic influence. We often recognise influence through resemblance. We say that one artist borrowed another’s line, palette, composition or iconography. But the deepest form of mentorship may be almost invisible. A mentor can transmit permission. Permission to question a structure. Permission to destroy a sequence. Permission to make connections nobody else sees. And perhaps this is why the image of the eye feels so important to me here. An eye is not simply an organ of vision. It represents a way of looking. A mentor does not only teach you what to see. A real mentor changes how you see. After that, even when the teacher is absent, something of their gaze remains inside your own. Haring never became Gysin. His visual language remained unmistakably his: direct, rhythmic, immediately recogni
You see colours. I see entropy. At first, Brion G You see colours. I see entropy. At first, Brion Gysin’s work can appear almost exuberant. Colour, rhythm, repetition, fragments of writing, shifting surfaces, optical effects. Everything seems to vibrate. Yet the longer I stayed with his retrospective at the Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris, the more I felt that this abundance was not really about decoration. It was about disorder. Not chaos for its own sake, but entropy: the slow transformation of a system, the loss of fixed order, the possibility that meaning might emerge precisely when structures begin to break apart. You see colours. I see entropy. The exhibition, the first major museum retrospective devoted to Gysin in Paris, gathers more than 140 works and traces a practice that moved constantly between painting, writing, photography, sound poetry, performance, experimental cinema and music. Gysin is often associated with the Beat Generation, especially through his friendship and collaborations with William S. Burroughs, but the exhibition makes clear that he was never simply part of one movement. He was interested in borders precisely because he wanted to cross them. Perhaps that is why the Cut-up becomes such an important key to understanding his work. In 1959, at the Beat Hotel in Paris, Gysin developed the Cut-up method as a radical extension of earlier Dada strategies: a text is physically cut into fragments and then rearranged. The sentence loses its original sequence. Meaning is no longer controlled entirely by the author. Chance enters the structure. Cut. Displace. Reassemble. See what appears. What fascinates me is that Gysin does not treat fragmentation as destruction. He uses it as a generative force. The original order disappears, but something else becomes possible. That is where I see entropy. A closed structure opens. A sentence ceases to be stable. A sequence begins to mutate. The system loses certainty, but gains potential. As someone who grew up in Uzbekistan, this idea immediately resonated with another visual tradition for me. I thought of the mosaics of Samarkand and Bukhara, of ornamental surfaces built from countless fragments that acquire meaning only through rela
You see butterflies. I see a fleeting moment of b You see butterflies. I see a fleeting moment of beauty — each movement of their wings like a heartbeat briefly holding its breath. This scarf was not created after this encounter. The design already existed. But while watching the butterflies, I recognised the same feeling I had once placed inside the drawing: fragility, movement, transformation and the desire to hold on to something that cannot remain. Sometimes an artist creates an image before fully understanding why. And sometimes life brings the meaning back. The butterfly scarf is hand-drawn by me and made in Italy. Available at stellapolare.fr. What does a butterfly represent to you: freedom, transformation or the fragility of time? #StellaPolareScarves #KhulkarYunusova #ButterflyScarf #WearableArt
You see pipes. I see life that never stops flowing You see pipes. I see life that never stops flowing. Some artworks cannot be understood at first glance because we are too quick to name what we see. In the image, Shahryar Nashat’s work may initially resemble strips of fabric, a long seam, or an abstract sculptural surface. Yet once we learn its title—Bleeding Process—the entire work begins to operate differently. This is not fabric. It is a system of pipes through which water flows. With this subtle displacement, Nashat encourages us to confuse an engineering structure with a human body. The pipes begin to resemble blood vessels. Water becomes blood. Architecture turns into an organism. The title is essential. Bleeding does not simply describe circulation. It suggests loss, leakage and physical vulnerability. Yet in Nashat’s work, blood is replaced by water. A process usually associated with the human body is transferred into the architecture of the exhibition space. The building no longer appears inert. It begins to live. The pale pink colour intensifies this bodily association. It recalls skin, tissue and the interior of an organism without representing any anatomical form directly. The work never shows a wounded body, yet it creates the sensation of one. Its physical presence emerges through circulation rather than figuration. The installation also reveals something we rarely consider: systems remain invisible as long as they function correctly. We do not think about pipes while water is flowing. We notice them only when something leaks, breaks or becomes blocked. In much the same way, we often become conscious of the body only when it experiences pain or dysfunction. Perhaps this is what Bleeding Process makes visible. Life reveals itself most clearly at the moment of its fragility. The work recalls the organic structures of Eva Hesse and the bodily architecture of Louise Bourgeois, where industrial materials acquire emotional and physical qualities. Yet Nashat’s installation does not simply transform infrastructure into anatomy. It keeps both meanings active at once. We continue to see a technical system even as we begin to experience it as a body.
Follow on Instagram
Say Hi
  • khulkar.yunusova@gmail.com
  • Facebook
  • Main Instagram
  • Instagram scarves
  • Instagram artworks
Customer Service
  • Payment
  • Shipping
  • Returns
  • Quality & Safety
  • Product Care
Legal & Privacy
  • Terms & Conditions
  • Privacy Policy
Join Our Newsletter
Instagram Instagram Instagram Facebook-f
©2026, Stella Polare