"Holy Russia" in Paris, the exhibition at the Louvre until May 25

[Евгений]

Сообщение от tchaika

And yet - information for thought

This has been known for a hundred years ... In the U.S., in private collections, museums, many stolen items .. Bolshiviki plundered churches, private collections and sold in the U.S. than there to be proud Americans?, What is there to ponder Russian? What was then passed ... The point is to rake in the subject line: "Holy Russia" in Paris, the exhibition at the Louvre ..
It is better to write once again about the show .. this is interesting.

[tchaika]

"Russia has not got the people, instead of it - atomized population and parasite on the tip of it, the flesh of the population. Russian people had already died spiritually and morally, and then to die physically. Save - no longer a people, but separate, private people who do not want to die - maybe only a radical change in social outlook. And he began to be only - if you do not even use the word "repentance" - with a critical awareness of past and present. " Peter Meshcherins. http://russned.ru/istoriya/tragediya-rossii

[Евгений]

[tchaika]

This took place in Paris on "The Russian National Exhibition 2010".

[Евгений]

Сообщение от ranzher

Why would you not bring it up to the artist's closest to your community?
Maybe not if he would then spend the last years of strength and creativity to a humiliating kowtowing to the questionable, and certainly, in your opinion, bezduhovnostyu Western celebrities in search of that pitiful confession, and he would have returned to their roots, to his people, God-bearing, the Third Rome.
You'll see, and would be in his home the glory, and you and the next of kin of luck

Dear ranzher, but what kind of artist? Unclear ....

[ранжер]

No less, but more distinguished Eugene, the question is not for me, but to vysotnouvazhaemoy tchaika.

[Кирилл Сызранский]

Сообщение от ranzher

Maybe not if he would then spend the last years of strength and creativity to a humiliating kowtowing to the questionable, and certainly, in your opinion, bezduhovnostyu Western celebrities in search of that pitiful confession, and he would have returned to their roots, to his people, God-bearing, the Third Rome.

No, not in the Third Rome, and in his native Yekaterinburg, Sverdlovsk!

[tchaika]

That you to me? I believe I was born in Moscow. My father - the Volga, and my mother, my grandfather and grandmother - Muscovites. So I care about this city, as well as the destiny of Russia as a whole.
And I have to Ekaterinburg no kinship I have no idea as to the named artist. You know, to connect his life with a creative person - is an act, which not every woman is capable of.

If you are interested in the details, tell us about yourself.
I've been walking through the exhibitions. The love of art, and especially to painting, my father instilled in me since childhood, for which I am very grateful to him. In two years he began to drag me to museums and exhibitions. He could stand for hours in front of a painting of some master. Himself once dreamed to become an artist, he regretted only that did not have to ... Being the eldest son in a family with five children and having lost their parents early, he became a father and mother for his younger brothers and sisters. He had to earn a living. Hard he had to. He started with the mason in construction. Managed to learn in the evenings. The party never had, a career did not. Just trying to learn. Work honestly and conscientiously. He became an engineer, a good specialist in the field of metallurgy.
His professional skills were seen, and he was appointed chief engineer in the Ministry of Non-Ferrous Metals in Moscow. Position responsible and often - on the road, on business trips, and inadequately low wages. But he did not complain to life. Confronted with injustice, when his head came up with an additional burden to the fact that had to comply with the wife of this chief, arranged in the same position. My father endured, remained at work in the evenings, take work home, tried to force all the time to ... Through the difficult ... But man, you know, do not iron. In the end he was forced to submit his resignation and move to another job ... Then he began to think about what is happening in society ... I will also note here that at some point, somewhere above, he was invited to become director of a factory. But for this it was necessary to join the Communist Party. My father refused to join the party, referring to the fact that he feels are not worthy.

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Probably vent for my father has always been art. He was a bright, often - with a friendly smile on the open (without a visor) face (a "knight without armor"), always with a desire to help, advise ... Do not raise his hand to write "broken". The bright memory of him.

One (already in old age), returning home late at night, my father saw the three men brutally beat a young man (he was helpless on the ground, and he was kicked). Walk past my father just could not. Without hesitation, he grabbed a stick lying on the grass, and drove hooligans ... Those decided to avenge his father tracked him down and waited and pounced on him with fury ... As a result, my father was admitted to hospital with fractured ribs and a brain injury. And even then he did not become bitter. He believed that anger - a sign of weakness of the spiritual, and down to her - humiliating. ("Not in force - true, but in truth - the power!"). A weak, my father himself did not consider. He did and never regretted that he had interceded when a young man. If the situation was repeated, he would have done the same. Once, as a youth, he was risking his life to save drowning girl.
Sorry for the long digression into the topic, but I have touched a chord. And I suddenly thought right now that maybe my father, without his being aware, and was invisible "knight" ("warrior") "Holy Russia" (kanuvshey as seemingly into oblivion), according to the commandments and principles which he lived.

Kindness and decency, honesty and a thirst for justice, initially, a respectful attitude towards people - it all seemed to be in his blood. And it was a natural at his amazing personal modesty. He never sought fame or to be talked about, admired ... - It was alien to him.
He loved and understood the nature, keenly watched, listened to her, knew medicinal properties of plants, trees gave him strength in the forest ... Pictures gave him strength in the city ... He had a heightened sense of beauty, the desire for high, real art, to the light ... How did all this take it? Perhaps from some long-standing family tradition, where they lived simply in good conscience, honoring elders, with love of neighbor, with a love of labor, where there was a clear concept of honor and dignity, from some deep roots of the Russian ...
On the last, my father did not want to talk. And I, for youth, and did not ask, busy with her studies. It was: "Yesterday," "today", "tomorrow". The past, it seems, did not exist (I'm writing, and became terrified. How did we live without the past?). One father told me: "My grandfather and my father were good people." I was not surprised this time, considering that this is normal. And remember: "A man must live so that was something to respect myself." 'What is he? " - I thought. Even then I knew that my grandfather was my father's time of troubles was arrested "for libel, and disappeared somewhere in the conclusion ... "Cases of bygone days ..." It turns out that in pre-revolutionary Russia, he taught at the Theological Seminary of the Law of God. And I did not know. In the old pictures (whatever was left of it, to think) - a bearded man with a noble face, with dreamy eyes, pince-nez. The family in Simbirsk a house with a large library, with paintings on the walls, with icons in the red corner ... There was a fire - all lost ... Here's a story.

How can we live without a past? without its roots? A tree without roots dries up. And the soul of a man locked, plugged, as if a cork, and he did not live longer, but there. I remember feeling a burning deepest sorrow to those Soviet years (where a teenager?) That gripped me in a vice, a feeling of emptiness of existence. So "live" (there) does not like. Some are tempted by the thought of suicide. Sometimes I could not stand, and at night crying into my pillow on the rudeness of my teens, adults adopt the manners and earthiness, all absorbing, from meanness interests. About a girl from our yard, my father said: "They are not you friend. But the other was not, moreover, we studied together. It was because that's the good, and I tried to defend them in front of my father. One girl was studying piano and loved to sing, having naturally beautiful and strong voice (she is, "Fatherless" could simply swear swear my grandmother, who was covered from her in the kitchen. "What are you doing?" How can you? "- Tried to useless to affect me. This was the case when "as the wall peas"). Another little girl loved to sew and knit (from my mother and the father of her was a full-fledged alcoholic. One day she us girls, told that already "tried the drug.") If only my father had heard once, these girls practiced among themselves, showing off in foul language (from what I have "drying in their ears." I resisted - I was disgusted to nausea), he would not have allowed me to more on street . I had such a hopeless feeling of loneliness that only a "black box", as I felt, was akin to this state. From him there was a chill the other world breathed void breathed death ... I did not realize: "If there is no God, then everything is permitted", "Everyone will be given to his faith" ... "Black Square" attracted me want to rush into it, to merge with it, dissolved in it ... "Black box" even got into one of my poems:
"... penetrated into the vanity of our squirrel.
Paintings want to help us.
In the window square Malevich
He looked inquiringly night ".
From this anguish and emptiness she wanted to run off in all directions. And fled in all directions: who (older) - in love affairs, who - in the alcohol (and even in drugs), who hid behind the cynicism ... Were, of course, and those who are seriously keen on music or art, ballet, or sports ... But such, indeed enthusiastic, were one. I went into the poems and drawings, had taken refuge in them ... Later, he entered the Moscow Institute of Architecture, received higher education, passed a full course of art history. Self continued interest in art continued to visit the exhibition ... But that's later.

And then we have the girls from our yard (there were four of us were at 14-15 years) at the time of stagnation atheist, which seemed hopeless, for some reason decided to go ... in the Trinity-Sergius Lavra (far, though for our branch, and, unbeknown to the parents, because they would not let us down: not safe). Where did this idea came to us, do not remember.
This was for us a revelation. I remember holding my breath, at the service, like peering into the faces of ancient icons, illuminated by flickering candles and lamps, as a wonderfully sublime sounded under the arches of the choir ... I remember the feeling of ownership of mystery, a sense of inner illumination and recovery (even the flight). I remember the bells ringing, piercing right through to the shivering, all my young creature, resonant, it seemed, from the very soul, and knocked out of her tube, opening it for life ... Here it is - our salvation in the faith of our ancestors!

You asked what the "Holy Russia"? Take a look. There it is - in our ancestors and our roots.

[Кирилл Сызранский]

[Евгений]

Сообщение от ranzher

Maybe not if he would then spend the last years of strength and creativity to a humiliating kowtowing to the questionable, and certainly, in your opinion, bezduhovnostyu Western celebrities in search of that pitiful confession, and he would have returned to their roots, to his people, God-bearing, the Third Rome.

Сообщение от Cyril Syzranskiy

artist G. Shishkin.

Constantine, ranzher, and G. Shishkin, who is? (First time I've heard), and how it relates to the author of a post tchaika? and the exhibition of Russian art in Paris?