Олена Клечковська "Шопін" 1995

Олена Клечковська "Шопін" 1995

«Шопін з Одеси» (ця назва статті, і саме так він підписує свої роботи)

Шопін живе затворником. Суворий, зосереджений на роботі, що завгодно, але тільки не світський живопис. картиною – лише «копією», за його словами. Розумій, як хочеш. Одеси»

Ефект бачення, сновидіння, марева досягається тим, що неземна, потужна ніжність напів-жінок, явлена нам лише частково. Недвозначним символом кордону, риси, за якою… Так – вітер розриває хмари, що затягли небо.

… Він все-таки навчився бачити те, що я лише мрію почути. І робити свої «копії» так, що найвища майстерність, техніка – йдуть на другий план.

Я розмовляю з Богом

Але я – глуха

Піддавшись схожості співзвучності

Я навмання

Уривки слів сплітаю у фрази

Ледве дихаючи

Пляшу – земна кобилиця

На лезі ножа.

Я боялася, що він взагалі не впустить мене в дім. шукача істини. І двері прочинилися.

-Хто ви і що вам потрібно?

І я видала заповітний пароль:

- Мене надіслала до Вас Таня Біновська…

Тут песик, досить урчачи, піднявся на руки до Анатолія Степановича. А сам господар сказав:

-Входьте.

І ось він іде попереду. Показує мені свої картини, навіщо?

- Я служив у Архангельську. І ця зима, це озеро, ці ангели, які допомагають Христу нести свій хрест – спогад про ті роки… Хочете ще?

- Чим більше бачиш робіт художника, тим легше знайти «свою», яка як ключ відкриє доступ до розуміння багато чого, якщо не всього. Для мене такий «ключ» зараз – Христос в Архангельську».

Похитав головою.

-Тоді Покажу ще.

Поток картин. Симфония картин. Храм картин. Поиск первопричины. Поиск Создателя. У него много имен и обличий. Зевс. Будда. Аллах. Яхве. Иисус – все по образу и подобию тех, кто поклоняется им. Лучшее в себе, в окружающих – отторгалось и соединялось воедино. Человек оставался наг, слаб, но создание его духа получало силу, способную захистити і захистити кожного окремо і весь народ загалом…

Наступний, природний етап у цьому процесі злиття різноликих божественних сутностей в одне ... Я піднявся вище і побачив, що всі річки впадають в океан. Усередині. Від нього потріскує шкіра.

-«Що є істина?»

-Те, що ми назвемо нею.

Немислимий круговорот. Єдність сущого.Свята кров Христа - в рум'янці жіночих щік. На самому початку: ніж, запущений навздогін розгніваним сторожем небесних воріт, розсікає бурдюк з вином.

Тихий дзвін золотих Дзвонів розсипаний по полотнах – багато жінок Анатолія відзначені цим знаком, який може не означати нічого… А може означати багато, непоєднуване лише на перший погляд. Знак святості, церковного дзвону. соску цих опуклих, міцних грудей?..

-Можна я скажу якусь дурість,

… Така посмішка, як у нього, лише трохи гірше, прославила на весь світ П'єра Рішара.

Lena Klechkovskaya "Chopin" 1995

"Chopin from Odessa" (this is the title of the article, and this is how he signs his works)

Chopin lives as a recluse. Stern, harsh, focused on his work. His paintings are anything but secular painting. He probably fasts and renounces vanity before entering the tiny room that serves as his studio. There is a depression in the floor. Just a pit. Because for years he has been kneeling here in front of the emerging picture. Not even a picture - just a "copy", in his words. Understand it as you wish. Maybe a "copy" of images, murals, some sculptural compositions... In general, everything that he saw, wandering in the garden of the gods, He actually saw. And he gives his hand to be cut off. And here is the hand lying in the corner of one of the paintings. And on it is written: "Chopin". Or – “Shopin from Odessa”

The effect of vision, dream, haze is achieved by the fact that the unearthly, powerful tenderness of half-women, half-goddesses is revealed to us only partially. The eye strains, there is no clarity. The image is covered by the remains of an impenetrable, deaf veil, which usually separates the world of people and the world that has achieved perfection. It yields to the pressure of the Master, but does not disappear completely. It remains a blurred, but unambiguous symbol of the border, the line beyond which... Thus – the wind tears apart the clouds that have covered the sky. And through the gaps Something suddenly flashes – of wonderful, unearthly beauty... thus – we look through frosted glass. Thus the foamy pattern of a receding wave remains on the sand...

... He has finally learned to see what I only dream of hearing. And to make his “copies” in such a way that the highest skill, technique – fade into the background. They are only a means to help designate what is visible to spiritual vision, and what can only be captured on the edge of consciousness.

I am talking to God

But I am deaf

Having succumbed to the similarity of consonances

I randomly

Weave scraps of words into phrases

Barely breathing

I dance - an earthly mare

On the blade of a knife...

I was afraid that he would not let me into the house at all. The guard is small. But the furious dog - saw me from afar and menacingly made it clear that it would be better for me not to approach the gate. Indeed. After all, I could not even really explain why I needed to go to Shopin so much? I myself did not know it. Enthusiastic reviews from friends - artists - what are they to me? I stood in the pose of a pilgrim, a seeker of truth. And the door opened.

-Who are you and what do you need?

And I gave out the treasured password:

- Tanya Binovskaya sent me to you...

Here the dog, purring contentedly, climbed into Anatoly Stepanovich's arms. And the owner himself said:

- Come in.

And here he is walking ahead. Showing me his paintings. He asks me - why? Does he see in me another traveler, one of those. Who seek the truth in the sanctuaries of different gods, raising dust on the roads of the world for years?

- I served in Arkhangelsk. And this winter, this lake, these angels helping Christ carry his cross - a memory of those years... Do you want more?

- The more you see the artist's works, the easier it is to find "your own", which, like a key, will open access to understanding much, if not everything. For me, such a "key" now is Christ in Arkhangelsk."

He shook his head.

- Then I will show you more.

A stream of paintings. A symphony of paintings. A temple of paintings. A search for the root cause. Search for the Creator. He has many names and faces. Zeus. Buddha. Allah. Yahweh. Jesus - all in the image and likeness of those who worship them. The best in themselves, in those around them - was rejected and united. Man remained naked, weak, but the creation of his spirit received the power capable of protecting and defending each individual and the entire nation as a whole ...

The next, natural stage in this process is the merging of diverse divine entities into one. "... I rose higher and saw that all the rivers flow into the ocean." The man of the ocean already looks like an Indian, a Greek or a Jew. He will be like the people on Shopin's canvases. Powerful, sensual, the thin top layer of painting cannot hide the heat raging inside. From it, the skin crackles and parted. The heat of thought. The heat of passion.

- "What is truth?"

- What we will call it. Today one. Tomorrow is different...

An unthinkable cycle. The unity of existence. The holy blood of Christ is in the blush of women's cheeks. "Annunciation" - the defenseless nakedness of Eve and the temptation of flying apples shine through Mary, listening to the Messenger. And the dashing sailors in "Leave" - they are angels who have broken free! Their flight is still at the very beginning: a knife thrown after them by an angry guard of the heavenly gates cuts a wineskin with wine. A stream breaks out and hits right into the falling mug. Watermelons, like planets, circle around the flying and desperately laughing sailors and their girlfriends...

The quiet ringing of golden bells is scattered across the canvases - many of Anatoly's women are marked with this sign, which may mean nothing... Or it may mean many things, incompatible only at first glance. A sign of holiness, church bells... A sign of leprosy, trouble - having heard it, run away. A sign of a cow in the meadows, the expectation of fresh milk with the smell of fragrant herbs... Should I fall to the pink nipple of this convex, firm breast?..

-Can I say something stupid,

... A smile like his, only a little worse, made Pierre Richard famous throughout the world."