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There are projects that come to an artist once in a lifetime. These works ask not only for skill, but for heart. Creating a public sculpture in memory of Dan Telesnikov was one of those moments for me. It was not just another artwork or commission; it was the chance to honor a life that burned brightly, loved deeply, and ended far too soon. I wanted this sculpture to stand as a celebration and a reminder of the joy and warmth Dan carried with him everywhere he went.
When I began to conceptualize this piece, I found myself drawn again and again to the things that shaped who Dan was: music, nature, friendship, and laughter. He was the kind of soul people remember for his smile. Which people said was wide, contagious, and impossible to ignore. Those who knew him speak of two things most: his hugs and his laughter. A hug that made you feel seen, and laughter that pulled you closer. Even without having known him personally, through stories and memories, I learned to understand the presence he carried into every room.
I wanted the sculpture to reflect that. I chose a guitar as the central form. Dan’s guitar is a symbol of his love for music and for the moments shared around it. I didn’t want the guitar to feel static or silent. Instead, I wrapped it with flowing, organic shapes that echo the rhythm of nature, leaves, movement, branches, and wind. The lines are fluid, open, alive. Color, as usual, is my language. The bold blues, warm yellows, earthy greens, and radiant red tones vibrate with life. Just as Dan did.
A public sculpture must speak to everyone. To family, to strangers, to passersby decades from now. It must hold memory without freezing it. I wanted this work to feel like Dan is still here playing his guitar, smiling, and lifting those around him with lightness and connection. It stands in his hometown not as a grave marker, but as a living presence. A sculpture that breathes. A sculpture that sings.
Dan loved the sea. He loved nature. He loved to be surrounded by friends, music, and laughter. Always in the center, never at the edges. He had green eyes that people remember vividly, and an energy that felt endlessly curious and alive. On the 25th of Nissan, 2005, he left for an operation he never returned. His life was cut short, but his memory continues to expand outward and into the hearts of his family, into the stories people share, and now into this sculpture that holds him in color and form.
As an artist, my hope was to create not just a tribute, but a continuation. This public sculpture is a place for reflection and joy. For music. For the celebration of a young man who loved life deeply and made others love it a little more.
Through this piece, Dan continues to stand among us; vibrant, warm, unforgettable.
View the public sculpture here.
