Each brushstroke is an emotion unspoken, each color — a form of survival.

Vrana’s art does not chase beauty, but truth; a truth that is sometimes tender, sometimes painful, but always human.

Her work is a confession without words, a visual diary of existence, written in shades that speak where language fails.

This retrospective brings together works from all stages of her creative life — from the energy and playfulness of her early years to the fragility and introspection of her final canvases.

Together, they form the biography of a woman who turned vulnerability into strength, and pain into light.

Vrana never painted subjects — she painted feelings.

Her figures oscillate between innocence and irony, her gestures mix childlike spontaneity with mature reflection.

She never followed trends; she followed herself.

Her humor was tender, even when her art spoke of suffering.

Ecaterina Vrana’s art is profoundly contemporary precisely because it is timeless.

It stands not on theory but on sincerity.

In a time when much of art feels constructed, she reminds us that authenticity cannot be faked.

What endures in her work is not perfection, but the brave vulnerability of someone who never stopped being alive — even when life itself hurt.

This exhibition is both a celebration and a return.

“The Art of Being Alive. The Diary of a Painted Life” is an invitation to intimacy, to silence, to emotion — a journey through light, color, and the persistence of tenderness.

For Ecaterina Vrana, to paint was to be.

And to be — was to love, to fight, and to hope.

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Postface – Alexandru Rădulescu

I met Ecaterina Vrana through Mrs. Pârvutoiu, her aunt — a close family friend.

You could tell from the first glance she was an artist: her presence, her gaze, her calm intensity.

What captivated me was her visual language — a unique blend of strength, humor, and melancholy.

As a collector focused on modern masters, I rarely turned to contemporary art.

She was the exception.

Ecaterina Vrana was the first contemporary artist I collected with both passion and conviction.

In her later years, there was a quiet sadness around her, a fragility that she transformed into color.

She painted, wrote, and fought her illness, but never allowed her pain to show.

There was always dignity, grace, and a silence that said everything.

Most of the works exhibited here come from my personal collection, gathered over time out of admiration and affection.

This exhibition is more than a retrospective — it is an act of gratitude.

Ecaterina Vrana’s art is not only a memory; it is a lesson in fragility, femininity, and the joy of living — even when it hurts.