Quiet Riots sketches (5-6)

The Ice Cream (5-10) - from Quiet Riots sketches

Size: 30 x 22, 5 cm, pencil on 300lb Fabriano Artistico paper

Anton Terziev, 2019

Photo: © the artist
Courtesy of the artist

Part of - solo exhibition at National Autumn Exhibitions, Balabanov house, Plovdiv, 2020 Quiet Riots exhibition, Contemporary Space, Varna, 08/31.05.2019 SUCCESS AND SUCCESSION

Terziev’s The Ice Cream from the Quiet Riots series is that perfect moment when teenage moodiness does a full-on mic drop. There’s this kid—cap cocked sideways, arms folded like fortress walls—lounging against a planter, cool as a cucumber but boiling inside. And down below? A lone, melting ice‑cream cone, face‑planted on the pavement like a tiny white flag of surrender.

The graphite strokes here are sneaky: soft and almost dreamy on the kid’s hoodie, then suddenly razor‑sharp around the spilled treat, as if the pencil itself snapped in two emotions. You feel the kid’s frustration radiating out—he’s not smashing windows or shouting slogans, he’s just letting a single scoop and a sideways glance do the talking.

Terziev makes rebellion feel intimate and low‑key. No crowds, no chants—just a small scene that pulses with “Why can’t I?” energy. The Ice Cream isn’t about overthrowing governments; it’s about that crackling instant when a kid realizes they’ve got to find a way to flip the script, even if it means dropping their cone first.

I Don't Jump on Command, I Command the Jump (6-10) - from Quiet Riots sketches

Framed Size: 42x32cm, Image size: 22,5x30cm, pencil on 300lb Fabriano Artistico paper

Title credit: Svetoslav Todorov - editor, writer, correspondent

Part of - solo exhibition at National Autumn Exhibitions, Balabanov house, Plovdiv, 2020 Quiet Riots exhibition, Contemporary Space, Varna, 08/31.05.2019 SUCCESS AND SUCCESSION

Anton Terziev’s graphite riff I Don’t Jump on Command, I Command the Jump from the Quiet Riots series feels like a cheeky power move captured in mid‑air. With one kiddo mid‑split vaulting over the locked‑jaw helmet of a riot cop, Terziev turns a serious showdown into a moment of mischievous grace. The way the pencil glides across the paper—soft, sketch‑style fuzz on the hoodie, crisp metallic glint on the visor—makes you sense both elastic energy and rigid authority breathing in the same frame.

There’s an easy wink in this piece: rebellion isn’t always shouted through megaphones or brick walls. Sometimes it’s a perfectly timed leap, a silk‑smooth arc slicing through the heaviness below. Terziev’s playful balancing act—fluid lines versus hard-edged detail, carefree limbs versus locked‑down armor—asks us to read protest as an artful judo flip rather than a frontal assault. In its slack swagger, I Don’t Jump on Command, I Command the Jump reminds us that defiance can be light on its feet and heavy on impact.