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"Real
creativity begins when you feel the
power
of that merciless "tiger"
inside yourself…"
I remember the very first time I met
an artist. I was 5...it was summer...
Russian South... in a little town
called Evpatoria... Black Sea splashing
green waives on a pebbled beach.
A
cracked, asphalt driveway, covered
with crawling shiny snails, leads
me to a small plywood shack. I look
into the half-opened door. A man with
a beard was sitting on a small chair.
He was painting something on canvas.
I was amazed by his ability to paint,
to make things and faces with only
strokes of a brush. I liked the smell
of the paint. I thought that the artist
was a magician, even though he was
only a poster-maker, working for the
local movie-theater. But, I didn't
know that. He could paint - that was
the most important thing to a little
boy.
The desire was awakened inside of
me. I wanted to be like him - to draw,
to paint, to be a magician, to make
tricks with colors and lines. At that
moment I learned something about myself
- I am an artist too. That ordinary
meeting with the local poster-maker
was a very important event leading
me to the future. |
I
spent first three years of my life living
in the territory of a St'Petersburg
mental institution named after Mr.Skvortsov-Stepanov.
My Grandma worked there as a nurse.
She was taking me to her work very often.
I was small and could not understand
what was really going on in there.
I remember a big fish tank with greenish
water in it. Within the tank, fat striped
Scalars Fish, with distorted proportions,
swam silently in slow motion. Strange
taciturn people were stumbling along
the corridor. My mother, Grandma, Dad
and I were living together in two small
rooms in a big two-story building. Quite
often, my memories carry me back to
that house. I hear the sound of big
trees rubbing against each other in
the wind, and the sharp noise of black
crows. I can see people in their gray
hospital uniforms taking walks in the
yard. The aura of an unreal world was
behind it - dreams, desires, passions,
and strange events. Everything
that has happened to me in life seems
now to be continuation of this mental
image.
My ancestors were priests, church
community leaders, peasants, and Dukes
Levasovs but only one of my ancestors
had a hidden passion for painting.
My great grand father was an icon
painter (or "bogomas" as
Russians would say). He was good at
mural paintings and made frescos for
the church of Ostashkovo village.
That church was leveled in the Second
World War. However, by some miraculous
circumstance, people saved one icon,
painted in his workshop. I have that
icon hanging on the wall in my studio.
My
Mom and Dad didn't have a talent for
painting, but they were taking me
to the Hermitage and Russian Art Museum
in St'Petersburg very often. My imagination
was completely taken by art works
of the Russian artist Aivasovsky.
I was looking at his pictures of the
sea and waves for hours. I was particularly
fascinated by one huge green wave.
It was ready to fall on me and take
me to the depth of the sea. Aivasosky's
pictures reminded me of big fish-tanks.
The only thing missing in them was
big-striped Scalar Fish. Soon, I got
my own aquarium. I was sitting in
front of it, looking at the silent
and flowing movements of the fish.
The world of water was fascinating;
pulling me closer.
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It
was 1974, the year of the Tiger. One
day I came back from school. I didn't
see my aquarium in the room. The hundred-liter
vessel had fallen to the floor and was
broken. It was considered as a sign
of misfortune. But I didn't know that.
In a couple of days my friend and I
went to swim in Sunny Bay ("Solnechnoye")
not very far from St'Petersburg. I remember
that place very vividly. It was a children's
playground with a small lake, and a
castle with strange looking statues.
They reminded me of those from the Easter
Island. Almost thirty years passed since
then, but strangely enough those statues
are still there.
It was a hot sunny day. I wanted to
swim, so I jumped into the water. I
remember a greenish yellow turbid light
coming through the thickness of water
above me. I was under the water and
I could not move. I was looking at the
rays of light, and could hear people
laughing on the shore and music playing.
But all that was happening on the other
side. I was observing the world from
the other side. I wanted to breath,
but I couldn't get up. And there was
nobody to help me. I realized that it
was the end. I saw the face of my Mom,
Dad, and Grandma and felt such pity
for them. They will learn soon that
there is no more me. But surprisingly
enough, I didn't feel horror or fear.
The feeling of sadness was flowing.
And I died.
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Then
I was born. It was different life even
though still mine. I woke up from hearing
the shrill screams He drowned! My friend
got me out of the water, to the shore,
and to the island with strange looking
statues. Somebody leaned me against
one of the idols. The images of these
statues are imbedded in my memory.
I went into oblivion.
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My
spinal cord was broken - complete and
total paralysis. From my hospital bed
I saw the faces of my doctor and nurse
above me. My Mom was crying. My Dad's
expression was dark and ashen from sadness.
All this was like an hallucination.
It was like a dream from which I could
not awake. The only real thing for me
was the ceiling of the room with cracks
and water spots.
This ceiling was the only thing I could
see. I was looking at it for hours,
trying to find fairy landscapes, cities,
people, and animals...anything! One
pattern reminded me of the tiger trying
to jump. A fantastic crystal ship was
floating on the other. I wanted to get
up, to go up the stairs, to swim away
from this bad dream. My parents were
told that there is no hope for me to
survive.
But some Force Above us holds the strings
of our lives. Someone from Above looked
at
me. Within several months I started
feeling some movement in my legs and
hands. I asked for a pencil to be tied
to my fingers and tried to draw. I wanted
to draw the Tiger I saw on the ceiling,
but could only produce a scrawl.
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Many years passed and I went to West
Berlin to have my personal exhibition.
I saw another tiger there. I was invited
to see the circus show. It was very
nice. I cannot say how it happened,
but suddenly I found myself very close
to the tiger the real tiger with my
hand in his jaws. My fingers could feel
his hot palate, his rigid tongue, his
fangs, his warm breath. His cold merciless
eyes were staring at me, but I felt
no fear whatsoever. His black eyes were
telling me: Remember that I'm here,
very close to you. My fangs are ready.
You have to be worthy of my gifts. I
let you go. And he let me go.
Real creativity begins
when you feel the power
of that merciless "tiger"
inside yourself!
Anatoly
Kudravcev
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