Ilie II Poienaru

Ilie Poienaru kept a studio so cold the ink froze mid-line, yet his religious drawings glow like candlelight. He used a goose quill to inscribe saints with almost human warmth, their faces catching the same light as the women sewing in the village across the street. His Cina cea de taină, that last supper where Judas’s shadow stretches long, feels like a scene you’d overhear in a Bucharest back-alley café. You’ll recognize the same quiet drama in the carved wooden doors of Curtea de Argeș monastery.