Some essays Thalmann Zurabian

Another Tbilisi artist who, like Rudolph, like on race was written into flame from the torch of Van Gogh, to create an idol out of him. He will make copies of his works, it is difficult indistinguishable from the originals, will represent himself next to his idol .- Van Gogh - my purgatory, - he said in the children of our acquaintance. Another said:

- It's nice that the root of my name from the word "bayahchi" - so called in the old Tiflis dyers. Maybe some kind of my ancestor, the dyer, was a painter.

I would like to highlight two features art Levon Bayahchieva, its main components is remarkable: the high culture, and what I would call the multidimensionality and multi-genre. But all his work the stamp of some sort of special highly aesthetic sensibility.

Bayahchieva creativity - it's landscapes, mostly urban, still lifes, female portraits and self-portraits, which can be distinguished as a distinct group. In his urban landscapes, there is something Paris, looking at them, you begin to think why the old Tbilisi called Little Paris.

Anyway, this is the only one I know of artists who, through his subtlety of aesthetic perception, was able to show in the old Tiflis traits are deeply related to the spirit of Paris.

A very special place in the artist's take self-portraits. They are quite diverse, primarily on the color palette, always strong and original. "In these portraits, there is no trace" of narcissism, narcissism. Just an artist attentive to himself, he has keen eye for the nuances of his character's inner world. We see him thinking, full of joy of being in front of 'our kind, cheerful man with a long patrician face, highly gifted man in love with art. " This is a quotation from a letter from a young Tbilisi Alexander Mikaelian. In his letter he asked me to learn the art Bayahchieva, convinced that it will not leave indifferent. But he did not know what I've seen the artist and managed to fall in love with his work. In the opinion of the Michaelian Bayahchieve I was generally agreed.

Although I can make a person curious about the amendment: it is not elongated. A broad forehead and high cheekbones barely noticeable. Oblong - to avtoportrtah: so he portrays himself. The letter's author says the artist, whom he had seen many times, and describes, however, the self-portrait. Strength bayahchievskogo art overshadows what is perceived from nature.

Similarly, point: the only artist who managed to identify and show the old Tiflis features akin to Paris. Brilliance, fiery, authentic and ostentatious his panache, the external splendor, there lurks a very homely, everyday.

- I am deeply convinced - he told me once - the magnificence should be in every picture.

If we are talking about the magnificence, let me describe him. The magnificence of his appearance certainly for everyone. Above average growth, long wavy golden-brown hair, bushy sideburns, a little flat nose - the memory of the lessons in boxing, round, chiseled, he gives to the person masculine chin, the mouth becomes particularly expressive, a soft expression on his face gives way to apprehension when he was ready to fend off taunt or besiege lost measure, angrily squeezes her lips. Big blue eyes slender figure, radiant good will, and perhaps some humility. Eyes, able to discern beauty in the most unexpected manifestations.

Son of a pharmacist does not have to be a pharmacist, and his grandson, and even more so. Grandson became an artist, but he remembered that he was the grandson of a pharmacist, honored the profession, knew all about his grandfather, hung it in the studio photograph of his grandfather with children, among them - the future artist's father, Sergei G.. And what I saw - the spirit of ancestors hovered in the studio - cracked antique furniture, candlesticks, glasses, faded photographs, objects, end-of-age. He keeps them as relics, no shame of their decrepitude. Two rooms at opposite ends of the balcony, in a house built by his grandfather once. These two rooms are the artist would not exchange to any choir in the world.

- Here the mother gave birth to me - he said to me - hence carried her coffin.

Splendor, which he would like to see on canvas, lived in it since childhood. It has taken away back in time, dragged in a shaky distance, where lighted face Mother - Tatiana Danilovna, father, engineer Sergei Georgievicha, at their home in the evenings playing Beethoven, Chopin, Haydn, performed ballads and songs, read poetry. This gave glimpsed the silhouette of her grandmother, Anna Makarovna preserved to the end of his life harmony, beauty, black as pitch, hair.

Favorite topic grandmother and grandson - good and evil. The boy, after hearing my grandmother, moved into the world of good wizards and brave princes, ready to fight for justice, he saw evil stepmothers and witches, black crows croak ominously with crosses in the graveyard undergrowth. But the prince, of course, were strong, they carried on spirited horses, they defeated the evil. And finally ... found his princess.

Grandmother chose for his home library of albums of reproductions, told his grandson about the wonders that can be created with a brush. At such moments, she was transformed, radiant, enthusiastically shook her head. Anna Makarovna loved landscapes Caro, full of trembling light and moving shadows, and especially loved fanned by the gentle charm and deep affection, filled with light and air-metal Barbizon landscapes of Theodore Rousseau and Daubigny. Artists of the boy fell in love for life.

Then the boy discovered Velasquez. His charmed those inscrutable face, keeping an internal self-discipline, a hidden passion. Romantic world of the gentleman!

But how quickly time flies! Now he is the gentleman, eager for adventure, romance. Strong enough for his sixteen years old, clever, addicting boxing.

Splendor, which he says, flared up every day all over, transformed, rendered in his eyes every beautiful thing. It lived in his soul, this magnificence, it is torn out, like converting all that concerned his view. In twenty years ("I'm not one of those who drew from childhood"), he started painting, he worked passionately, but carefully, in good faith, making a year for two or three paintings. Thus replete with happiness, he had met in Leningrad (he went there a student practice)
Helen, friendly, charming girl, "hereditary peterburzhanku, not without pride, he said. They married, and they had children (now I students) - Serge and Jeanne.

The school organized a carnival, and Lena's son to sew a clown suit. Seeing the boy in this outfit, Bayahchiev realized that it is necessary to write a portrait of him and try to convey an expression of children's eyes are constantly reflected in them, causing all of the new tide of wonder and peace. In this portrait will merge the real and imaginary, baby and clown, and it will be one, as the laughter at the scene, simple-hearted and sly.

When the work was finished, the artist moved away from the easel and took a deep breath: it seems, has turned out, handed it unsaid, the hints, the clown is full of light, ghostly melancholy, and at the same time, just about ready to explode with laughter ...

Clown arose in the dark, woven out of the complex nuances background, divided into multiple planes - dark gray, greenish-black, dark brown, interspersed with black tones. Background reminded Polyphonic Choir. Clown on this background stood arms folded, taking a wait and see attitude. Fragile, long, with a long face and sad eyes radiant.

Bayahchiev deviated from complete similarity. He wrote to his son and saw the light filled the arena. Conventional concepts of clown replied only one suit, painted in terracotta-red and light brown tones. Drawn carefully, as the paintings of Spanish masters of the folds, passed the materiality and density. The whole of the picture remarkably noble sound, a rare harmony.

The artist would like to transfer to the canvas at least some detail of his beloved dress, make it an inseparable part of the picture. Attached to the canvas frill, now, cut from the very carnival costumes, resembles a huge, opened its wings, a white butterfly. She seemed flushed, lit white, bringing into the picture is something ennobling and bright. Thick layers of paint squeezed from a tube in the folds of cloth bibs, make it a relief, sculptural. In the same sculptural
and it seems clear, unsophisticated person, and stretched his long neck, as if carved out of the blue, who gives a smooth pink stone and gray-silver hands, solid, too, as if carved out, but in some incomprehensible way, transmitting nerve sensitivity. The artist, who wrote his now more than two months, especially a lot of work on his hands, trying to make them as soon as more expressive.

The world of clowns, Harlequins swept into the consciousness of the artist's vivid stream of images. The heroes of the circus or dell'arte depicted on the canvases are not at the time of presentation, not behind the scenes. They are locally close-up, they seemed to say: Arena and Circus - our souls, ourselves.

Brush stopped momentarily, expressive pose, gesture, and it turned out more impressive than the story.

Deliberately distorted gesture or grimace stressed that the well-known character in a wonderful unpretentious, bordering at times with strangeness and oddity. Naivety and spontaneity - traits that are very close Bayahchievu.

He can find beauty in the most unremarkable people, even old women and old men. They came to life on his canvases, followed by getting up a string of past years, glimpses of past joys. Be dispassionate narrator, the observer indifferent to him impossible. His is the involvement, empathy, his irony is soft, good humor, perhaps barely caught, but brings into the picture of warmth, hope-

- I think when I write somebody, we, me, and it should combine the general mood.

Levon did a few portraits of the old unfortunate Avetik. And everywhere - the artist's desire to reveal all the best in his character - something that may be, and there is now in it, but once the expression of its essence. Thin, long face Avetik at all the portraits of elegant.

Such is the world Bayahchieva - kind, warm. And as always, a luxury holiday.

The worn earthen jars, rusty old spoon, broken dishes - his favorite subjects are transformed by his brush, finding the same kind of luxury, which the artist says: "All things should be great."


Sometimes in the most illogical lies its inexplicable logic. Gray-golden day in spring, light gold covered roof, walls, buildings, foliage, bright, cloudless sky - all in harmony, the best CEE tosochetany you can imagine. But here's the gate of the old house goes kurdyanka on pei costume colorful orange-and poisonous-green paint. What is it? Harmony disrupted? On landscape, strangely enough, is getting better, livelier, there is an unexpected unique charm. Dissonant colorful spots in nature, the artist's life leads to joy, in amazement. He knows: the nature of the logic, refuting speculative, it's the need to reproduce.

On his canvases appeared churches, abandoned cemetery grave khachkars houses, the windows of which gleamed a dim light. Landscapes carrying a soft, warm melancholy, dissonant feelings are reflected-on-canvas, flashing bright spots, making a beautiful painting commissioned confusion. Against the backdrop of subdued muted colors glowed red or yellow spots. Critics have puzzled demanded explanations from the artist, accused him of disharmony. Typically, attentive to others' opinion, then he answered a restrained smile: - just his way. ... He agreed to change: Yes, maybe some of the works and seem disharmonious but for one that is disharmonious, for another - the supreme harmony.

 His deeply intelligent artistic temperament is peculiar ease and gentle, reserved politeness. The man with an artistic look, the trendy corduroy jacket with a silk handkerchief around his neck, often seen in society angular carpenters, masons. It may seem from the country side. And he readily accepts invitations to people that are very far from the art. He shares with them a meal, participate in their lively discussions, debates. His touching their naturalness, simplicity and vitality.

Portraits of his wife Lena hang among the other portraits, occupying all the wall studio, floor to ceiling.
I asked Levon separate images of his wife, to look into her face, eyes, seen in both of them Bayahchievyh. And he seemed to read my unspoken desire and Rural location next to the portraits of Lena's own.

She on the portraits surprisingly different and surprisingly similar. The portraits can be seen as the years went on, and changing its appearance, and the painting of the author.

It arises from a lavender light, lunar glare, orange sunset, from the mysterious turquoise-brown shade. Von second series of mood, emotional state, but everywhere is constant spirituality, femininity, fragility. He wrote to her portrait, fanned that poetry, which is open to people painting by Modigliani - the poetry of long lines, sad eyes. She is gentle, quiet, facial expression conveys slight feeling of sadness and subtle reproach, and looked through all of nature is assembled, balanced, able to understand a heart to be generous.

The image of this authoritatively stopped once and for all the artist chained to his attention. It is no coincidence the expression of those eyes, lips - what is most characteristic of the human person and the most difficult for the image - we meet at other portraits of women.

And here, next to the faithful girlfriend, himself in a different time of life: young and has already stepped threshold of maturity, in various guises-uiax in a turban, the occupant of the Latin Quarter, a poet in a shirt with the open gate and a bow, different color schemes, style of performance and all covered with an inner light, the light illuminates the face of a man whose face appears in a classical perfection, in a whirlwind of dynamic natural overlapped strokes.

I look at the last portrait. Harsh restrained sadness made wise life of man, the artist who had mastered the skill, familiar with the mysteries of classical and contemporary art, has passed through many hobbies trends, tendencies, and he went into the art of a long hard road and now thoughtfully stopped in front of a new creative milestone ...