Oil on canvas
Art is the aspiration human to reach the ideal, or at least to approach it, because the ideal is God. To give an accurate definition of art is as difficult as trying to characterize the Universe. As for me, art is an illusion, a dream that is a counterbalance to real life. Because life is gray, dark, dirty, and art, in general, is something high. It’s like a dream, and humanity wants to sink into such a dream or at least approach it, although it knows that this will still be an unattainable dream.
You can be a good engineer or an accountant; just get an education and be. But to learn to be an artist... As for me, it’s hard. On the other hand, I don’t believe in inspiration and muse. Rather, I believe they come to someone, but not to me. It just doesn’t work with the muse, with romance for some reason. Everything is very banal, simple, and ordinary. All my life I force myself “Sit down, do something.” It’s like in sports. What kind of muse can we talk about if we need to run 10 km? But you force yourself to train because you’ve chosen it for yourself.
Improvisation is Alexander Vygovsky’s best friend. About thirty years ago, when he was just beginning to carve, he tried to make a structure that was covered with flesh; he drew sketches until realized that in such a way he drives himself into the Procrustean bed. This went back to the time when he was a priest. At first, he wrote all his sermons on paper and memorized them, but when he forgot only one word, he stumbled, did not know what to say next, and couldn’t improvise. When he refused such practice, it became much better.
Today, he does preliminary drafts only if takes someone’s specific order, because when you take money for it, you must agree your own vision with the client’s one and find out if it matches with his vision. But for the same reason, he takes orders very rarely.
It’s simple: it either hooks you or not. Generally, I suppose everything you like from the first sight is right.
In my sculptures, there is no beauty as such. They are more ugly than beautiful. At one time I tried to do beautiful things, but when it really began to work out, it seemed uninteresting to me. Beautiful things are made by everyone, but I want to create something of my own. Every artist should be recognizable. Like Vrubel, Vasiliev, Kandinsky; you can’t confuse them with anyone. Undoubtedly, their pictures are very good, but in art, there is a place not only for beauty but for ugliness too. I, for example, don’t create beauty, but I try to influence the viewer emotionally, to get some response from his soul. It’s worst of all when a person looks at your work and remains indifferent.
I totally agree that journalism is corrupt. Unfortunately, there are very few media workers today who have a position. But this situation is characteristic not only of the media. Can we say that art is not corrupt? Let’s just say, in its best manifestations. But journalism isn’t corrupt in the best manifestations too.
If a person has no fear, then there’s something wrong with his head. A person is afraid of many things, and at different times he is frightened by different things. Now I, for example, am afraid of an ugly death. There is beautiful, solemn, or at least quick, painless one, and there is ugly when you lie for years disabled to move; you can’t die, and you can’t either call it life. Actually, I’m afraid of a lot of things. I’m afraid of betrayal. But most of all I’m afraid of shame. Even more, than I’m afraid of death.
I don’t remember who said that there are no atheists in the war. You can be a superman or anyone, but whether you survive or not depends not on you, but on the place where the shell hits. However, the soldier wants someone to influence his fate. God is hope. And it’s not only at the war.
I have no questions for God. In addition, I believe that God isn’t a person to whom you can address your questions. When I say how complex the world is, I can’t even imagine how limitless and complex God is. You can either obey or go against him. But again, what does it mean to go against? Even when I wasn’t born, five hundred thousand years ago, He already knew how I would act.
We often pay a lot of attention to small things and we consider our doings extremely important. However, I know that the world lived without me, and without my works, and is also able to live on. Whether there will be something after me or not depends not on how carefully I will collect and store all my achievements. There are people, who didn’t bother to leave a memory at all, but a hundred or two hundred years passed, and their works, even some separate strokes are collected in bitterness by their descendants. And there are those, who keep everything, write memoirs, although in fact there is nothing to keep.
Some have high hopes for children. It’s like you will live in your children and children of your children. As for me, this is self-deception. Perhaps one or two generations will be aware of you, but the third, fourth one won’t even remember about you...
Alexander Vygovsky’s Unformat
In Search of Lost Dreams
Blue Blush by Sasha Bob
Song of Protest by Peter Yemts
Any Painting is a Drawing of Yourself
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