It is pointless to approach an artist with questions: what did you want to say with your painting, what is depicted on it? Researchers, critics, and simply viewers should ask these questions primarily to themselves. I became convinced of this after getting to know the artist Vladimir Abaimov. It so happened that even before seeing the artist's paintings, I was able to learn the audience's opinion about them from a book of reviews from his exhibitions. Reading this fascinating document, it was impossible to determine how to relate to the artist: some envied his talent and admitted that he was close and understandable to them, while others advised him to change his occupation and did not understand anything in his paintings. Moreover, some confidently predicted the artist's well-being and prosperity, while others with no less confidence predicted the decline of his creativity. A work of art is directly addressed to our soul, feelings, and by dissecting the painting like a butterfly, we simply deprive it of its initial meaning. And viewers continue to inquire: why, what is this, or state: it is not like that, it cannot be. But don't each of us know the difference between an object and the thought it evokes, between the visible, concrete and associations, fantasies, intangible and mysterious transformations of feelings in our soul? That artist who can express, demonstrate this. An artist is like a medium that translates sounds, words, and emotions into colors and lines. The variety of themes and techniques of Vladimir Abaimov may seem like flirting with the viewer to some, and to others - his inability to find himself, "his theme". The artist himself explains that the choice of style, form, and technique of execution is dictated by a certain goal, the content of the intention. If he is attracted by the matte resilience of Siberian apples, then he takes these apples as they are, and the viewer looks at "Still Life with Wine" almost with an appetite and enjoys their freshness.