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За Мен

Казвам се Яна Панева и съм художник, роден и израснал в един от най-артистичните градове – Пловдив. Изкуството за мен никога не е било просто хоби, а начин да изразявам света около себе си. Пътят ми като професионален артист започна в Националната художествена гимназия „Цанко Лавренов“. Там преминах през школата на графиката и скулптурата, което обогати погледа ми за форма и обем, но голямата ми любов си остана живописта. През 2025 г. завърших със специалност „Изящни изкуства“, а в момента продължавам академичното си развитие в АМТИИ „Проф. Асен Диамандиев“ – Пловдив. Днес творбите ми са резултат от това непрекъснато търсене на хармония и цвят.“





Моите картини

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More Flowers

3 октомври , 2024

Flowers Growing
They are incredibly beautiful, aren’t Them? Well, of course They Are! I wrote this summary by hand, you can do it too in the content/posts/<post-name>/index.md file! But don’t worry, if you don’t write a summary yourself, the theme will grab it automagically from the content of the post! And it will include it in SEO too!
1 minutes read
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Flowers Again

1 октомври , 2024

Flowers Growing Planting
The summary on this page was left empty, so it was grabbed from the first content the theme can find on the page, which is what you are reading right now! A wreathèd garland of deservèd praise, Of praise deservèd, unto Thee I give, I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways, My crooked winding ways, wherein I live,— Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight, Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee, To Thee, who art more far above deceit, Than deceit seems above simplicity… By George Herbert
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A Poem About Flowers

28 септември , 2024

Flowers No-Image
The Flower That Smiles To-Day The flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world's delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright. Virtue, how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love, how it sells poor bliss For proud despair! But we, though soon they fall, Survive their joy, and all Which ours we call. Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day; Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou—and from thy sleep Then wake to weep. By Percy Shelley
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