Some essays Thalmann Zurabyan.

Here we will focus on a powerful imagination, skill, and the infinitely interpritirovat rollanovskoy charm, when the most mundane seem to unfading
brilliance and diversity of life, in the endless flood of tsvetov.I nothing of coquetry, the desire to attract vnimanie.Oderzhimaya devotion to art, the thirst for searching and modesty in its banal ponimanii.O.net, praise, of course, if raduet.A Knowledgeable man it feels just neobhodimost.A when it seems that in her work to get something good, she and govorit6 "I think it went well." And the essence of this natural fact that the heroes Gayane Khachaturian Van Gogh, Pirosmani, Saryan, not by accident.
In the evening the mother and daughter sitting down for stol.Razvesyat on the walls of a small little room kartiny.Votsaryaetsya silence, and feel they have a front window, where otkryvayutsya unusual spectacle .... By and large yellow spot slowly creeping cat, near the southern houses, and then mirror lake, and red horses galloping in muted sinevu.V this world, everything and everybody has a place, because there is in this world zlosti.Zhelty lion looks the same direct gaze, that a woman with a fish in ruke.I even fiery leopard, prigotovivshiysyak throws, not evil, as happens with leopards in front of the fray.
at the moment of impending opasnosti.Potomu that he, like these animals, people, streets, lakes, created by the kindness of man.
They are a long time looking at paintings, mother and doch.Na street nadvigaetsya night, downstairs in the courtyard razdayutsya overweight shagi.Vnimatelnye eyes Mother nepodvizhny.Zatem she said: "This piece in the picture lives, that one too, but this is not." And not a word more.
The opinion of her daughter's sacred.


There are two worlds: one in which the person lives, and another, who lives in nem.Dva this world together and there are people, two of the world together and produce art.
The world in which she lives-interlacing streets, endless walking on them, "that call first walk, then a rapid march, intoxication, acquired radostyu.Ulochki, streets, replaced by another one arrives, drops in the landscape, and can not see it as okazyvaeshsya broad magistrali.Net, better streets, every time they perceive a new and even can not believe it for a passer-thousand miles! morning, in the haze, they appear as a promise, winged mechta.Iz of the gloomy sky curtain pytaetsya vyglyannut sun. Under the canopy of giant oak-old Kurd incite koster.Ona silently watches crawled up plamenem.Bolshe just loves to look at ogon.Est shine, there are flaming, circuit-deprived forms continuously menyayuscheesya.Plamya continues rasti.Na street favorite autumn, and quiet the breeze rustling through the rhythmically sweep gold trees ... to fire priblizhaetsya kurdyanka old, bright dress on her, just as the flame, devoid of superfluous color patches.
A fire burns everything, and impressions are carried, one after another, the world is changing, changing colors, and now the tree turns into a mirror, and next are big red pears, and in the mirror flying to the moon pyshnovolosoy night, far away one could see the white trunks the yellow roof and white bell ringing rushes, and a white lion roars at the bridge before the night booth. And next to the glassy surface, and around grow orchids. No, no, this is not a fairy tale. This is a world that want to see every time a new way to think through in dreams.
Voices of old people distracted - they razgovorilis.A flames reminiscent of great red spot, the ever-expanding, surrounded by blue ... And red is female with a handkerchief, which one wants to throw the head sharmanschitsy.Tak that's tormented, troubled ...

And a woman in a red kerchief grind absorbed melodiey.Iz behind it grows huge flying ptitsa.Kazhetsya, charm, captivated sharmanschitsu the verge of radiating, will sweep over the earth ...
But you never know what can be imagined? Fantasy unlimited, but try to pass it in paint so that it became a great painter, to preserve a measure, the more you're impulsive and impulsiven.Etu job she described as "Sharmanschitsa and night flying." Even by name You can submit it to the worlds - "Red Horses", "Son of the Wind", "Yellow grants," "Dancer with a leopard", "Sazandari - Yellow feast," "actor, a butterfly and whisper." Many of her paintings are not similar in execution but feel the same hand, the same talant.Vot work, solving large ploskastyami, almost laconic color struck clean lines, and then - the rushing of paint, mosaic, increasingly complex, the intense heat up, then fade away, about transforming the sparkling prozrachnost.Eto mysterious country, created out of fire and sveta.I about them every time you can tell from novomu.Kak of all the diversity generated no geometric perception, and violent imagination, eternal sense of rhythm and nerve vremeni.Gde something for stretch of the road below the horizon of miracles, escapes white clouds hover over them yellow granaty.Zdes same fairytale castles, quaint cottages, ancient derevya.Predmety appear in the most unusual colors, states, as if the man set out to repaint the plants, flowers, lakes, depict the life in continuous illyuminatsiyah.Blistatelnaya! That is brilliant! Otherwise I will not name the artist who has created a miracle - the world of insights, bleska.Gde all unusual, and at the same time - obychno.I brilliance not the story being depicted - the splendor and tinsel sick of it, but in its most talent, the ability to transform the most ordinary , a daily sight, teatr.I even in scenes related to the memories of a serious illness, imbued with sadness, expressed in a muted palette, no, no yes and flash spark this blistatelnogo.Lyudi, landscapes, and generally, life itself in all its manifestations, even in the most severe, should be transformed by the beauty and izyaschestvom.I there is nothing that can vytrvit it that spark.
In her art there is - it seems that the lights went out, the action moves to the twilight, and somewhere in the corner - the human eye, seeking brilliance of emerald stone.
Father-working electrician, "raved about the music, love songs, opera and even jazz." He did not recognize hobbies daughter, not realizing that it was living with his own oderzhimost.Pered death he wanted to know how serious it was asked to call the famous in the city of the painter Alexander Bazhbeuk-Melikian and asked him to be seen whether Gayane this artist. "Absolutely," replied the one-big artist. "
Bazhbeuk was for her example, even though painting them was too raznaya.Gayane one of the few friends Bazhbeuka who did not experience the direct impact of its indirect effect zhivopisi.No Bazhbeuka veliko.Van Gogh, Modigliani, Sarian-talk for hours about the properties of painting, of life. "You have to be perfect picture," said He-master. you in my opinion, behind the painting. "
Once Bazhbeuk with his daughter Zuleika also an artist, came to Gayane, to get to know her latest works. Master fixedly in linen, was silent.
Papa, "broke the silence Zuleyka.-Well, what? ..
After a brief hesitation, he replied:
Guyan is land.

How absurd, her work is represented among the beginners, the exhibition artists samouchek.Da still in the city, where well-known that such Pirosmani how relations to his iskusstvu.Ne enough instructive example "This is not about style, but about the fate of .
"You have seen pictures of Gayaene? Well done ..." I heartily glad to success, voshischayutsya odarennostyu.Te who understand the art, it is unlikely they see in her talent, although painting Gayane may not be too pervasive nature blizkoy.No says more puzzled shrug plechami.Yavlenie? .. That is, as "Here we encounter a lack of understanding, stubborn nedoponimaniem.Prichem apponentom in a conversation can be the authors of books recognized hudozhniki.Yavlenie? ... Udivlyayutsya iskrenne.Vprochem any of this.
I'm not going to assume the role pervootkryvatelya.U Gayane many loyal friends, and they know what iskusstvo.Prosto Gayane Khachaturian, I discovered the most sebya.Spustya ten months I have discovered it for myself vnov.Moi understanding of its art has not changed- itself has changed zhivopis.Da, ten mesyatsev.Tsvet complicated, became more acute, vyrazitelnee.Bolshe composure, zakonchennosti.Pust some canvases still vstrechayutsya unfinished pieces, but it is not from bespomoschnostiprobelov of skill or lack of feelings izobrazhaemogo.Zdes a lot of emotional turmoil , continuous and indiscriminate beleaguered thoughts that require lull sosredotochennosti.No she always knows when it is something not tak.Hochesh comment on the aborted, ahead of: "Yes, this is not something you need to finish, I even know that I will delat.No then, when it's appropriate mood. "
Artists like her and would not take the founders of "isms". They leave no memoirs, epistolary heritage outlined concepts issledovaniy.Slishkom many of them on intuition, spontaneous beginning, eternal concern to teoretizirovat.Oni rather, meteors and their work-vspyshki.Tut importantly, how long extended for these vspyshki.Net This does not mean that their work is falling apart, there is no consistency, they have their own logiki.Logika generated not by reason, but by intuition, when thoughts and feelings merge into one great concern, and to create is as much a necessity as breathing , watch vlyublyatsya.I how naive her words: "I can consider myself a true artist only when I will write more visceral attain confluence of mind and feel." It turns out she is not "real artist", it turns out reason in her paintings predominates over the heartfelt ... What did not think of having such fantaziyu.Net, better speaks the language of her krasok.Tak legche.No and everything here is not formed simply - a process of internal ripening pattern is often very dolgim.No when it is time to write, do not not write mozhesh.I then everything is performed much faster - sometimes, a single session.

However, the narrative and may not be a question, I did not say that in our eventful and the information age, laconic and synthesis became the most important forms of expression in iskusstve.Rech comes to perceptions of unusual items, events, phenomena and apply them to canvas in the interpretation of when individual items and frvgmenty speak not of the individual case, but about life, dreams garmonii.Hudozhnitsa visit the mirror lakes, hike the trails on a moonlit night, to see people close to lions and leopards, charmed and surprised.
This is not Pirosmani and Rousseau, although these artists it is very lyubit.Navernoe, it has more of Alexander Green, his "wonderful neizvedannosti, enthusiastic boiling meetings, persons, events, and immense diversity of life." It is no accident at her pictures woven events and scenes, chassto heterogeneous, far from one druga.No when you see them together on one canvas, they vosprinimaeyutsya as a whole - it becomes clear how conventional plot kartiny.Za all these images are hidden states, deep generalizations, see the artist could not help itself, then nervously squeezing a brush, the mind wandering among its mysterious way, her eyes closed and his head in his hands ... Here she puts the finishing touches ... The painting - a fabulous mountain lion at the feet of which a human mask, near the Sphinx, but rather other, like a whole body, pressing her hands to bedram.I nothing of fabulousness, which often want to see her rabotah.Nikakoy woodcut naivnosti.Strast to the interpretation of real and fantastic approach to life - that's what motivates her, when she wants to pass ordinances their acute psychological momenty.V her soul goes through a storm and see how she wants to keep the storm to extract from it only right that resonate and close, and plunged again into the storm to go into the vastness of his imagination. "aspire to make my paintings was life-affirming, not like a bloodless, nanosnogo.Hochetsya that was life everywhere, even at times of honest just me, but always - life. "And, heeding her words, involuntarily you peer into the picture, transferred to a stupid world - froze people trees, feel the slow movement, and tishinu.No should look at these pictures, as more and more convinced that static on them - it is not impartial contemplation, but rather by incoming control all the excitement, you feel for all that the deserted awe and indifferent.
Artists like her and would not take the founders of "isms". They leave no memoirs, epistolary heritage outlined concepts issledovaniy.Slishkom many of them on intuition, spontaneous beginning, eternal concern to teoretizirovat.Oni rather, meteors and their work-vspyshki.Tut importantly, how long extended for these vspyshki.Net This does not mean that their work is falling apart, there is no consistency, they have their own logiki.Logika generated not by reason, but by intuition, when thoughts and feelings merge into one great concern, and to create is as much a necessity as breathing , watch vlyublyatsya.I how naive her words: "I can consider myself a true artist only when I will write more visceral attain confluence of mind and feel." It turns out she is not "real artist", it turns out reason in her paintings predominates over the heartfelt ... What did not think of having such fantaziyu.Net, better speaks the language of her krasok.Tak legche.No and everything here is not formed simply - a process of internal ripening pattern is often very dolgim.No when it is time to write, do not not write mozhesh.I then everything is performed much faster - sometimes, a single session.

However, the narrative and may not be a question, I did not say that in our eventful and the information age, laconic and synthesis became the most important forms of expression in iskusstve.Rech comes to perceptions of unusual items, events, phenomena and apply them to canvas in the interpretation of when individual items and frvgmenty speak not of the individual case, but about life, dreams garmonii.Hudozhnitsa visit the mirror lakes, hike the trails on a moonlit night, to see people close to lions and leopards, charmed and surprised.
This is not Pirosmani and Rousseau, although these artists it is very lyubit.Navernoe, it has more of Alexander Green, his "wonderful neizvedannosti, enthusiastic boiling meetings, persons, events, and immense diversity of life." It is no accident at her pictures woven events and scenes, chassto heterogeneous, far from one druga.No when you see them together on one canvas, they vosprinimaeyutsya as a whole - it becomes clear how conventional plot kartiny.Za all these images are hidden states, deep generalizations, see the artist could not help itself, then nervously squeezing a brush, the mind wandering among its mysterious way, her eyes closed and his head in his hands ... Here she puts the finishing touches ... The painting - a fabulous mountain lion at the feet of which a human mask, near the Sphinx, but rather other, like a whole body, pressing her hands to bedram.I nothing of fabulousness, which often want to see her rabotah.Nikakoy woodcut naivnosti.Strast to the interpretation of real and fantastic approach to life - that's what motivates her, when she wants to pass ordinances their acute psychological momenty.V her soul goes through a storm and see how she wants to keep the storm to extract from it only right that resonate and close, and plunged again into the storm to go into the vastness of his imagination. "aspire to make my paintings was life-affirming, not like a bloodless, nanosnogo.Hochetsya that was life everywhere, even at times of honest just me, but always - life. "And, heeding her words, involuntarily you peer into the picture, transferred to a stupid world - froze people trees, feel the slow movement, and tishinu.No should look at these pictures, as more and more convinced that static on them - it is not impartial contemplation, but rather by incoming control all the excitement, you feel for all that the deserted awe and indifferent.

Artists like her and would not take the founders of "isms". They leave no memoirs, epistolary heritage outlined concepts issledovaniy.Slishkom many of them on intuition, spontaneous beginning, eternal concern to teoretizirovat.Oni rather, meteors and their work-vspyshki.Tut importantly, how long extended for these vspyshki.Net This does not mean that their work is falling apart, there is no consistency, they have their own logiki.Logika generated not by reason, but by intuition, when thoughts and feelings merge into one great concern, and to create is as much a necessity as breathing , watch vlyublyatsya.I how naive her words: "I can consider myself a true artist only when I will write more visceral attain confluence of mind and feel." It turns out she is not "real artist", it turns out reason in her paintings predominates over the heartfelt ... What did not think of having such fantaziyu.Net, better speaks the language of her krasok.Tak legche.No and everything here is not formed simply - a process of internal ripening pattern is often very dolgim.No when it is time to write, do not not write mozhesh.I then everything is performed much faster - sometimes, a single session.

However, the narrative and may not be a question, I did not say that in our eventful and the information age, laconic and synthesis became the most important forms of expression in iskusstve.Rech comes to perceptions of unusual items, events, phenomena and apply them to canvas in the interpretation of when individual items and frvgmenty speak not of the individual case, but about life, dreams garmonii.Hudozhnitsa visit the mirror lakes, hike the trails on a moonlit night, to see people close to lions and leopards, charmed and surprised.
This is not Pirosmani and Rousseau, although these artists it is very lyubit.Navernoe, it has more of Alexander Green, his "wonderful neizvedannosti, enthusiastic boiling meetings, persons, events, and immense diversity of life." It is no accident at her pictures woven events and scenes, chassto heterogeneous, far from one druga.No when you see them together on one canvas, they vosprinimaeyutsya as a whole - it becomes clear how conventional plot kartiny.Za all these images are hidden states, deep generalizations, see the artist could not help itself, then nervously squeezing a brush, the mind wandering among its mysterious way, her eyes closed and his head in his hands ... Here she puts the finishing touches ... The painting - a fabulous mountain lion at the feet of which a human mask, near the Sphinx, but rather other, like a whole body, pressing her hands to bedram.I nothing of fabulousness, which often want to see her rabotah.Nikakoy woodcut naivnosti.Strast to the interpretation of real and fantastic approach to life - that's what motivates her, when she wants to pass ordinances their acute psychological momenty.V her soul goes through a storm and see how she wants to keep the storm to extract from it only right that resonate and close, and plunged again into the storm to go into the vastness of his imagination. "aspire to make my paintings was life-affirming, not like a bloodless, nanosnogo.Hochetsya that was life everywhere, even at times of honest just me, but always - life. "And, heeding her words, involuntarily you peer into the picture, transferred to a stupid world - froze people trees, feel the slow movement, and tishinu.No should look at these pictures, as more and more convinced that static on them - it is not impartial contemplation, but rather by incoming control all the excitement, you feel for all that the deserted awe and indifferent.
-I want people to have never parted with their life, where there is a dream, music, painting, poetry ...
This is not just tossed off a beautiful fraza.Smotrit straight in the eye, said Agitated. then looks down at the picture, as if summing up his remarks, but expressed may seem netochnym.Povtorit again and again, wanting to develop a precise.
-I love to look at ogon.Navernoe, my ancestors were fire worshipers. - Jokes, she rarely, more serious. - I always feel a connection with predkami.Oni like ryadom.V especially during raboty.Eto not even explain.
In every sentence with lots of soul, she was always nervous, nervously rubbing ruki.Uglubitsya in his thoughts, of course, out of politeness will still be responsible to you, but as for her painful!

Matisse? "Of course, he was mistaken in saying that every man can find rest in iskusstve.Matiss - a book that you can not read without emotion.
-Step - wise starets.On gives people like their unusual bulls, horses, live tsvety.A then takes the viewer into his garden, where the roofs sparkle in anticipation of violin music.
Rousseau - one of the kindest artists I ever knew.
-Bosch. I always try to approach his art even closer.
-From the Armenian artists closest to me Ovnatanyan, Saryan, Bazhbeuk-Melikian.
-Ovnatanyan - a relic of Armenian Tiflisa.Ego portraits - not only portrety.Glyadya on them, we see a still-lifes, landscapes and endless sky.
-Sarian - a very healthy start.
-Bazhbeuk-Melikyan - the first great artist, with whom I vstretilas.On gave me a lot, I find it hard to talk about it.
-I love the medieval Armenian miniatyuru.V her I was always worried about the red tsvet.Takogo red I have not videla.Inoy times it seems to me that in those days the sun has left its particle in our land.


Two small rooms in an old Tiflis dome.Vysokie ceilings and windows, shabby furniture and general absence of sovremennogo.Zdes AAPO was born, grew up, fell in love with painting and realized that forever.
One of the rooms, full of light, designed as a desk masterskuyu.Na zhurnaly.knigi, karkndashi, a small portrait of Komitas - mentor and boga.Gayane love not only in painting but also in music, it handles voice, sings in the church hore.Esli interlocutor fell on the soul, it must be performed for him something lyubimoe.I in his song will invest no less soul than zhivopis.Posle sightseeing or visionary thinking in the park, she always returns to that komnatu.I, of course, she wanted to write.
The walls are hung with pictures, and they instantly riveting vnimanie.Snachala riveting, like all unusual, but then they fall in love and want to see and videt.I forgetting the brief stay in the city, you can not grab the time and did not come to her to take another look at its zhivopis.Hudozhnitsa always welcome, and patiently listens, answers, well, if you be inspired to trust in you feel like-minded person, friend - will be revealed to you before kontsa.I when you hear the exciting story of the bitter experiences, unusual perceptions .
Surely it is a beginning of her creativity? At that time, she studied at the Art School, studied faithfully, diligently visibly gypsum, studying the shape and volume of the body, the laws in the works this svetoteni.No Perida - something traditional, normal, though at the time of her only fifteen, and ask her questions many nelzya.I, however, does not believe that these works and those that are created today, belong to the same cheloveku.A Then came the disease - a severe illness, was chained to posteli.Medlenno stretch painful days, and many think it navsegda.A she believes in the triumph zhizni.Ostavayas one, she stares for hours at nebo.Plavno escapes the cloud-boats, the sun disappears and are replaced by the moon and zvezdy.Tak the days pass - single meditation, full of sunlight and the moon shine, Kissed clouds and trees falling down nebom.S golden leaves, rain lashed, frown tuchi.V this amazing diversity, nepovtorimost.Chto something close, intimate, nedostayuschee.Navernoe - life is diversity, and not in her two identical eyes, hands, characters, as these clouds float away, sparkling zvezd.Prikovannaya to bed, she feels even more charm of life, eager to get up, go back to zhivopisi.Na soul accumulated mnogoe.Ochevidno should write only when you have your own world, its videnie.A then she wins the disease and returned to painting, convinced that he would only write it his own.
An unexpected turn in her work, which came together with a new perception of the world-conventional forms of local color, flatness mysteriously symbolic figures, but at the same time amazing zhiznennost.Deformatsiya volumes, breach of proportions, hardly anyone blame her ignorance of the laws of the picturesque, in the absence of professionalism-all this is done for the sake of expression, the transfer of its plastic obraza.I feel how complicated this way, as complicated by the painting itself, giving rise to ego.A last work still unfinished - it is quite unusual drugoe.Na canvas for her expressiveness - everything moves, the voltage to predela.Na light-blue background loom the contours fiery sobak.Kazhuschayasya static has disappeared, they are now the hall, pounce ...
Another Gayane.I know that it will be all new and new: Gayane Khachaturian twenty-eight years.
An ordinary street in Tbilisi, narrow pavements, ancient trees, houses, painting, sticking to each other, patterned balconies and fences ... Somebody call out to someone, and the house to speak with all the floors, "in that its unique charm.
Neighbors meet and generate curiosity vzglyadami.Pointeresuyutsya success, of course, and to chat a little chaffed,-for them it is still a little girl with protracted uvlecheniyami.A who she really know neither they nor many others ...
In the art of their own, have already become commonplace way to priznaniyu.Byvaet and takoe_zhivesh next to the artist, to monitor its development and believe in its future, but somehow I can not imagine that he was already there, that even today he is too znachitelen.V especially if it human kasaetsya unusual darovaniya.I here it is not just about nesveduyuschih people, but also a connoisseur.
Krmpozitsiya? Oh! This poluchaetsya it great! Is developed out of the ordinary sense of color, garmonii.Da, fantasy bespredelna.Tonky taste, or rather, the subtlest, high professianalnaya culture, no salonnosti.Est composure, integrity .- as if all agreed on one dyhanii.Est power, there the scope and audacity smelost.Takuyu rather call muzhskoy.I important - identity, pocherk.Tak what do you want?
From painting Gayane can be found only in her home, or in two or three small zametkam.No it not better to see her pictures on the large vystavkah.I long do we convince ourselves of its recognition? Why not talk about it publicly as novom.zamechatelnom phenomenon in our art? "Is not it time? Pravda.ona young ... But believe me, lyudyam.podobnym ey.nikakaya praise is not gone to his head.