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The elephants of my life

Painting, 1991, 55×60 cm

Description of the artwork «The elephants of my life»

One day, Gay Lussac met
And dragged him to the tavern.
What happened? Even children know -
From there came Gay-Lussac.

The story can be thought up and told at a party.
You can remember how it was printed with your index finger.
You can not do this. Fry potatoes. To eat Go to sleep.
And you can: think up, remember, print, fry, eat, go to bed.
So sho do?
In the courtyard, they started running around the next dry-water mace. To quickly get to the bus stop, you had to go through the construction site. She, of course, was enclosed with a fence, but the people quickly realized the aisles and manholes.
You run past the stacks of building materials, and the eye involuntarily observes the neat blocks of bricks packed in polyethylene. Noted and okay - you need to hurry to the bus.
Further. Who knows the vision of the unusual in the ordinary, I understand - every piece of clay, even with standard processing, having passed fire and water, has its own “face”. Completely utilitarian brick! One of my friends even collects them and he has about five hundred items of storage. Now I understand him.
Passing through the construction site once again, he stopped near the bricks, admiring the variety of texture and color.
A voice from behind: "Citizen, are you here for what?" I turn around - padded jacket, boots, knitted hat, blue nose.
- Why, admire. Beautiful come across.
- So this is not a mushroom, you have nothing to admire.
Put in place, went on. He came to the workshop, and the Negribi sat down and did not leave. It is necessary to make them up without fail, then they will leave the memory. Inside there is something like this: just making up bricks is neither interesting for them nor for me. We need to push them with something. And with what? Fantasy is silent.
I ask a colleague: Lyonya, if you take, for example, bricks, what do you personally associate with this?
Lyonya, put down the tube with glue, looked strictly at me and said: We have to take the job in a week, and you sit and talk about some bricks!
Explained to him the situation at the construction site. Lyonya, a great joker, immediately suggests: "That's it, they must grow mushrooms and, most importantly, white and in large numbers." He turns and continues to glue the letters to the poster.
I sit down at the table, trying to get involved in an urgent order.
- What are you doing, stunned! - This is Lyonya screaming behind my back. It turns out that I instead of the word "violinists" scored "bricks" on the poster ...
Everything has its time.
We passed, almost successfully, the order. Celebrated this business, as expected. Enough time has passed to forget, but I could not manage to get rid of the bricks - they were imagined in various forms, angles and scenes. But, - all this was not that. How to explain why? I do not know. I feel that is not all.
"Everything has its time, and the time of every thing under the sky: time to be born, and time to die; time to plant, and time to pull out the planted; time to kill, and time to heal; time to destroy, and time to build; time to cry, and time to laugh; time to lament and time to dance, time to scatter stones, and time to collect stones, time to embrace, and time to evade embrace, time to look, and time to lose, time to save, and time to throw, time to rend, and time to sew, time to be silent, and time to speak ; time to love, and time to hate; time to war, and time to peace. " The book of Ecclesiastes. Chapter 3
Here, there and about the stones there. Almost bricks. I wanted to copy shorter, but did not dare - it is beautifully written.
If long and hard to knock, will open. Once...
We play with Leney in fast chess. We had this afternoon entertainment. Three batches of 15 minutes. Slow - constantly lost. By the clock, in 15 minutes, I had time to fool. I look at my position and try to figure out how to create a dull situation in one move.
The arrow on my dial is approaching the red flag.
- Elephant go! - Shouts, unable to stand, Lyonya.
I have everything ready for a long time. We needed a small stuffing, a small eruption, a kind of catalyst and ... "the process started," as one leader said.
The whole composition immediately appeared on an imaginary canvas. It remains quite a bit - take the necessary bricks and find the corresponding elephants.
Bricks picked up at night at a construction site. In the slanting searchlight, they all seemed appropriate. It was necessary to find the most suitable.
- Citizen, are you here for what?
I turn around - padded jacket, boots, knitted hat, blue nose. I remembered the mushrooms.
- I am looking for mushrooms.
Brick falls and breaks in half.
- Mushrooms, it means. And what will a house be built from, a mushroom picker? On all the "mushrooms" is not enough, I realized, no?
Trying to explain the intent. The watchman, with his head tilted to the side and moving half a brick with his boot, listens.
- So you, this, artist, or what? And what, the bricks was going to play around? And what, nothing more?
With the watchman I made friends slightly on the ground and in the field and dragged the house home for a week, then to the workshop, bricks.
There was a question with elephants - where to get it?
Evgenia Gorats tried to answer this question in the story "Seven Elephants".
Dialogue from there:
- Why did all the elephants go?
- Because everyone forgot about them. In this city, people have forgotten that you can be happy, no matter where you are, they leave from here ...
I also had to be more prosaic and not at all fantasy, as in the story of EG, to search and ask for a long time and without success with all my acquaintances, relatives and friends: "ELEANS ARE?" There were no elephants anywhere. Someone remembered something, he was looking, he asked his own, but ... They offered cats, African elephants from ebony, turtles from malachite, bears from ivory ... Elephants fell out of a human hostel. Everyone was told: "This is philistinism!" And they all threw them away in chorus (they hid it and forgot where) along with crocheted napkins.
But, if long and hard to knock ...
The first two elephants "came" from an antique shop. These had to buy. The five others were offered to me by my brother, sternly saying, taking out a box from the mezzanine: "Return when you finish your canvas! They are dear to me as a memory!" (He likes to speak a little high-spirited).
The lucky number of the SEVEN gathered in exactly the right form - from yellowish marble with snow sparkles. It remains quite a bit - to build a still life and make up.
Maybe from a long search, or the topic demanded, but I increased the number - there are 15 of them in the picture. Almost twice as many. "Happiness does not happen much!" - said the visitor of the exhibition answering for me the question of another visitor "Why aren't they seven?". At the same exhibition bought the second part of the diptych. I didn’t want to sell separately, but the parents of one “boy”, who was 37 years old at that time, persuaded me. “He loved to play soldiers as a child, and tomorrow is his birthday,” said the boy’s mother and I gave in.
The first part is still hanging in my house. And it is good that there are not seven of them - MUCH HAPPINESS DOES NOT HAPPEN!
I will not say that I am happy exactly twice, but I am happy.
What and all I wish!
PS If you have marble elephants somewhere, take it out and put it in a prominent place. It is possible without napkins - where can I get them now ?! Believe me - seven marble elephants bring happiness. Especially if you believe in it.
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About the artwork

This artwork has been added by Arthive user, if it violates copyright please tell us.

Art form: Painting

Subject and objects: Still life

Style of art: Realism

Technique: Oil

Materials: Canvas

Date of creation: 1991

Size: 55×60 cm


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