How a Session Actually Works

It’s easy to hear “channeled painting” and picture something vague — incense, candles, a story that’s impossible to check. The actual process behind Akashic Chronicles I is more structured than that, even if the underlying state is hard to describe. Here’s what a session concretely involves.

Before the canvas

Nothing starts at the easel. Every sitting opens with kundalini practice — the same discipline Tatiana has kept since 2021. This isn’t a warm-up ritual; it’s the actual mechanism that determines how the session will go. If the state isn’t reached, painting doesn’t start that day.

At the canvas: the hand moves first

Once the state is active, there is no sketch, no thumbnail, no plan for composition. Tatiana describes it as letting go of the hand — the state paints, not the conscious mind directing a brush toward a pre-visualized result. This is the part that separates channeled work from intuitive-but-planned abstraction: there’s no image being “found” through improvisation toward an idea. There’s no idea yet.

Layer after layer, over months

A single session doesn’t finish a painting. Akashic Chronicles I was built across sittings from 2024 to 2026, moving through a specific color sequence — blue, turquoise, yellow, pink, ember — where each new layer can change how earlier ones read. It began, by Tatiana’s account, as a single point of white light and grew outward in thousands of small, directional strokes. Nobody, including the artist, knows the final image until the layering stops.

“No sketch preceded it. Tatiana describes the process as reading the Akashic Chronicles — a transmission received in meditation, layer by layer, with the final image unknown even to her until the last stroke.”

What actually gets documented

Because the process itself is the unusual part — not just the finished object — it’s recorded as it happens rather than summarized afterward. Real footage from an actual sitting, unedited, is part of what accompanies each piece. That documentation is what turns a claim into something a collector can actually evaluate, rather than take on faith.

Why the timeline matters

A two-year span between the first mark and the last on a 50×60cm canvas isn’t a production schedule — it’s a consequence of the method. Sessions happen when the state is genuinely available, not on a deadline. For a collector, this is part of what the piece actually represents: not hours of labor, but a specific, repeated, disciplined return to the same state over years.