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Tomaev Dmitry (sculptor, 1953-1989)
Вложений: 2
I would like to acquaint you with the work of another artist Ossetia , whom I knew from childhood.
A remarkable man and a talented sculptor Dima did not study art in educational institutions. His grandfather was a stonecutter hereditary , his older friend and mentor was the artist Hsar Gassiev , but in Moscow it was taught by sculptor Lazarus guess. He departed this life , only by achieving recognition, but left behind a wonderful job. Sculpture by Dmitry Tomaeva is in the permanent exhibition hall of the Museum of Contemporary Art of the East. Articles and photos of works taken from the catalog released after the death of the sculptor. |
Boris Kocheyshvili
Вложений: 5
Boris Kocheyshvili
Robinson? Here, I thought, to whom was like Dima. Far from home, in a strange Moscow. Who knows how it all: build a house, make wine, cook the food. But asked about Robinson - and the similarities end: the Robinson and his gun, and ammunition, and a needle and thread, and an ax, and the food is at hand, and the trees for the home. Dima had golden hands - and everything. The resemblance ends. In a strange city. From the little that you depend on. Nothing is impossible. Workshop can not. Be a free stone-cutters can not. All organizations against one man. Robinson had a good time in a strange land. Dima died. Cursed urban art. Beckons. Beckoned and Dima. At the Pushkin Museum on me most of all are archaic tombstones. Carvers raised monuments to the dead and living next to people living and dying. The cemetery was a museum. Master craftsman and went hand in hand, in the same masons. All disturbed. Dima was also impaired. Big, strong, handsome man who looked like a bandit with a tender and heart disease. What kind of world in which you can not help themselves or a close? Relatives who came to Dima, as if asking: why? What say? Guiltily art? Doctors? We? He wanted all fix the fix stone crushed to correct grapes fix the red house and a bad heart and broken walls and ceilings broken heart has broken where corrected grapes recall Remember, he wanted all correct correct a stone. |
William Meiland
Вложений: 5
William Meiland
DIMA VOLUME Gori. Not far from the area, where still stands a monument to the penalty to the leader of all peoples, where stands a museum in his name and wandering curiosity or loyalist contemporaries in the basement, but rather, in the former boiler house, I met with the sculptor Dima Tomaevym. Led me to a resident of the nearby town of Tskhinvali painter Hsar Gassiev. On the table there appeared a dark red wine, grape-smelling valley Ateni, spongy goat cheese, fresh green hill. And a little spree began with the traditional fine toasts. In the studio Dima Tomaeva everywhere stood stone and wooden sculptures raznovelikie, a crowd of human figures and figurines, silent black narodec, who settled in the corners of the shelves. Gassievu most rules of meter, "Grandma." From its rough machined monolithic figure was based on the primitive force and the secular mind. Devoid of any details and was smoothed over, the sculpture looked like a distant steppe Scythian woman. "Grandma" was one of the earliest works Tomaeva, and I do not know that it carried a young sculptor, I would have thought that it hewed hewer rural self-taught. However, this conjecture was true. Vocational education Dima has not received. The first lessons in the handling of stone he gave his grandfather, a local stonemason. Natural talent, hard work and, as they say, a rare rukastost, agility, skill, craftsmanship - all this was the formation of the personality of the artist. It has long been known that the one in whom lives the artist realizes in his work on things, sometimes hidden from the wisest. During another trip to Gori, all the same great and good Hsar Gassiev showed me the village cemetery in the town Karkusty. Looking at the stone tomb, in the shape of humans and animals that are installed on the graves of local shepherds and blacksmiths, farmers and artisans, men and women of quiet, I thought again of Tomaeva Dima and his senior colleagues - Gadaev L. and B. Soskieva. People obviously plastic tradition rooted in their work, no matter where they live and whatever influences and temptations of modern art were neither. Follow my meeting with Dima Tomaevym already occurred far from his hometown. Yes I do. Frankly speaking, not too wanted to face every step of the PA with mustache shadow of inertia revered local deity. Of course, no Burn, or the surrounding mountains did not blame the random fact of the birth is one of the most bloodthirsty dictators. Thank God, the Moscow land took a last evil, treacherous, vindictive and Blighters murderer of millions, and should not be afraid of the ominous shadow today. But to be constantly at her side, too, is not desirable. I can imagine how the same Hsaru Gassievu, which in the terrible thirties called the son of enemies of the people living in nearby Tskhinvali on the street, named after the son of a shoemaker Gori. In the late seventies Dima gradually moved to Moscow. But all his impressions, feelings, visions, good and evil shadow followed him to the capital. For a long time without Dima adjoin the studio, which depressed him immeasurably. He wandered through strange angles, it jarred his healthy pride, but the thirst of all defeated. At one time he worked with me about the underground "Babushkinskaya" in the rooms of the local nezhilfonda, commas, several artists. Work in the material he was there but could not. It was the fifth floor, and nervous residents of the lower floors were not allowed to knock on a stone or metal. Dima sculpted small clay sketches and clay and put them on the shelf. I think that this long-standing inferiority of its existence hastened his early demise. Artist without his corner for life and, more importantly, to work - things that plague our culture. At our last meeting, Dima often spoke that he was ready to go aimlessly - in any country and at all times, just to give work. He was confident that his forces are endless, and will live many more years. With pride he showed me something built with his own hands populated barns, converted them into a comfortable studio in the suburban village Kupavna. Along the walls of this cozy, regained in the throes of asylum had already line up his remarkable new work. They looked like those little timid self-taught sculpture that I saw in Gori many years ago. It was a new stage, new achievements and hopes for the show, na recognition, na place in art. But the studio Dima so lovingly built them out of slate, burnt together with the content. To Dima, it was very painful, excruciatingly heavy blow. He could not speak without a shudder of the heart of this disaster. He had a feeling that the collapse of his last hope. When it finally appeared he had a good workshop, time-boat in which he has not had time. Heart could not stand. May 1990 |
Eugene Gannushkin
Вложений: 5
Eugene Gannushkin
Dima, you stay with NAMI One evening I called Grisha Anisimov - asked whether I can visit. Gregory Anisimovich once said, "Sure, come on - are good people around, and just beginning ..." Entered. Meet me instantly rises, broad in his beard, with luminous eyes and a man, holding out his glass, said: - Eugene A., come off the road. - And welcome to my seat, sit down with a sweeping gesture shows. -Please tell me - taking the glass and through it, I ask - how do you me by my name called - and we all do not know? - And I - he says, heard Gregory, pipe laying, said: "Now Evgeny comes." Here I knew it was you. It was Dima volume. Since there was no other way than for the first time. Always forward, always giving his place, always with a big smile, friendly and with a full glass in a large, soft hands. So we became friends. As time went on. Who knew, and knew how fleeting it! Again came to Grisha, I found the work of Dima. He sculpted coat of arms of the RSFSR. It would seem a trifle. By order of our pensions - Combine However, Dima took me to work, holding the arm and asked: -Do you like ...? At the time, studying at the Stroganov School, I have successfully dealt with fairly and modeling. This gave me the right to make a few modest comments. All at once it was realized and corrected, and I was surprised by his credulity said: "Now, well," - his face lit up. This was Dima. You know what I'm trying to tell you about the man and the artist Dima Tomaeve, there is only a modest attempt to hold my friends to how we should all behave in life and art. Dima was not anyone to teach and our nravouchaem notorious breeding, of which we are losing it, so now mourn, his upbringing was from God, so to speak because of congenital and binding on him. I can not forget, as one fine sunny day, we met with Dima near the locked door is always hospitable Grishina workshop. The owner was not home. And Dima invited me to walk through the old Arbat Street in anticipation of the return of Grisha. We go hands on. Talking about the language, the culture of speech, word for something good, and suddenly turned to me Dima: - Eugene A. - always turned Dima - I want you to read poetry? - Of course! Dima read the Ossetian Costa Khetagurov, and then Omar Khayyam, Pushkin - in that and other languages. It was music. Oh, how wonderful! And I realized the depth of Dima's affection, real competence and kindness. We have so And his sculpture ... What to talk about it? I think it is easy, as the world, life and nature, surrounded with Dima was born. He has all the people are always together, close, close to each other and severely - silent. The silence of love and sorrow. Again, remember the words of Michelangelo: "That is good sculpture, which had fallen from the mountain, remains unchanged ..." We remember with you, because Dima was born among the mountains and exalted nature, and therefore was very enthusiastic and easy. And concentrated. We will remember you and love your art and your kindness. |
Gregory Anisimov
Вложений: 5
Gregory Anisimov
TWO LIVES Dima TOMAEVA By an extraordinary mental powers, a sense of freedom and purity of the first reaction Dima Thomas was a man remarkable. It seems to me that the true artist merges with the sky, something he was called something that other mortals do not comprehend. I am sure that just opened a little secret he knew Dima and embodied it in his sculptures. It seems that Hegel said that the sculpture is a frozen blob of light in space. In much the congealed clot of light I see myself now Dima Tom - the son of the Caucasian lands, her beautiful, proud and solitary flower. Around the open and unprotected on the bare ground. Do not want to write my memoirs, I see a calm person of Dima, overgrown with thick resin-black beard, his radiant eyes, hear his muffled, anxious voice speaking to me: "Dad, tell me, I'll live?" The nobility of ancient Ossetian king was in his face, kind eyes, white-toothed smile. He lived only thirty-six years. He would have to live at home, in the Caucasus Mountains, and he would not demolish it, but in Moscow it was like a fish thrown by the surf onto the sand. Ruined our way of life sovdepovskim life of this pure soul Highlander not been in vain. In this I am sure. The Second Life Tomaeva Dima continues his work. Once I told Dima about the case, who was a witness: a beautiful plant with a huge young woman, at the very chin, belly for the first time handed over the work of Arts Council. It is noticeably nervous: spots on his cheeks made flush. I expected that Council will now work even if it was not quite successful, congratulate and wish a happy resolution. But there it was: a professional rage council members seemed to forget something very important to people. They advocated, advised, corrected. And the work was wrapped, was not accepted. A pregnant woman went as beaten. Dima, after hearing my story, exploded: "Do you think it's people! They poisoned the child in the womb! They poison her blood allowed! " And he has long resented the indifference and cruelty of his own brothers - artists. Dima was the wrath of Caucasian-hot, myself.
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Michael Emtsev
Вложений: 5
Michael Emtsev
In the crowd of varieties of men, there are people and people are actually reflections of charged fates. Last-over, as more reflections on the wave, than themselves waves. In contrast to this there is no advantage, just the root difference, both are vital. Reflected people mobile and beautiful eyes in a hurry to grab his elusive presence, misses no time - all the traffic, iridescent, a precarious game. Other business - people essential, is a scientist speaking, the noumenal. Noumenon betrayed his own fate, he did executor and guardian, a servant and lord, and is ready to be bounced ringing ping-pong ball on the road of life - can not, is not free. Burdened with the fate of the content of the duty in front of her. This was Dima volume. Tight-grained stone, an ancient tuff, granite, pumice - the material of his work. Colors faded, dry, with tarnish left by the heat of the depths of the earth. From the ground. Not from the soil-crumbly, live, ready bloom, zakolositsya, moldy - and from some subterranean depths of the rocky foundations of life on earth, its foundation. The hardness and reliability of the rock. But, its roughness, neoglazhennost faces stumbling angles. Neuyut for eyes and for life. Until the time is filled with stone fixed energy - resting volcano. And explode - Mount neighbors, and get far. But there was this man, in his life titanic explosion, although he was originally from the ancient tribe, the titanic. But most were composed firmaments ovals, crystalline aggregates in the form of touching, helpless. In the human suffering and the suffering, the hard-working figure in the mythological body of people of his people. There is a gentle stone property - brittleness. Hard-it is hard, but before the appointed over the limit. Exceed it, crack split the heart ... |
Hsar Gassiev
Вложений: 1
"Portrait of the sculptor Dima Tomaeva" 1990 120x100 cm, c /m.
Posthumous portrait of a friend and disciple - Dmitry Tomaeva. A talented sculptor, who died early. |
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