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buy work Anatoly Zverev

Female portrait, oil on plywood , 64h40 cm, 1977

Below is the history of this portrait - an excerpt from the story of Helen Yanov, published in the collection " Bukvatoriya " in 2011 .

... In those days in my life fell Anatoly Zverev . It fell , as a kind of lump falls into some unfinished well or ruined mine.
I saw Zvereva and several times before that. Zverev, " Beast " - gentle , perhaps , the name . Was once a boxer and it was felt in his gait , in habits . Genius. But for me, only one of the numerous host of geniuses honored my husband.
Hot summer of 1977 Anatoly formed in the doorway of our narrow room , very unhappy with my presence in it . I was unwell and could not get up . Anatole did not do anything so terrible about what I had heard long before the first real meeting , and offered me a rough stand to honor the Vikings grub and drinks. Never forget how delicately bravely and steadfastly stood up for me a nine Yaroslav , my son, which , if desired, Zverev could crush with one finger. Anatoly quieted somewhat stunned , and " viking " - husband mumbled something like: " Tolenka , do not get angry , you see, she is sick, but in general she's beautiful , and you Slavochka silently - it's very Anatole ! ! Vikings retired after prey , and when the late evening reappeared , Zverev looked quite peacefully , and on the jacket Valeria reason there was both sleeveless vest and jacket became .
I must say that in 70 years, Moscow was swarming with cockroaches. Was no exception and mystical room Valeria . I do not know why, but at this moment, in those days of my illness , the dominance of cockroaches and fees on vacation in Krivoy Rog, Zverev reason decided to stay with us . I thought it more prudent to quickly recover and even begin to go with the kids on the street. Vikings liked to accompany us , probably , in our company , they feel safe. Indeed , the views of passers-by which it was impossible not to notice , were expressive and eloquent. So it turned out that the Vikings were a little ahead , and I'm holding the youngest child in her arms , and senior 's hand, with a rather indifferent view lagged behind men in several steps. We ought to cry , but I was amused obvious consternation in the views of passersby. " What men monster ! " - Trembling from fear and vzhimayas the wall whispered charming , one was not yet extinct Moscow truly older ladies. What is so frightening about colliding two cute , almost intelligent people ? Strangeness , eccentricity, bestial roar and inappropriate ...
We all walked , often in the cafe carryout located nearby . There Zverev and his ilk are well known and well accepted as a generous tip . Bought everything, and even some children getting any food . All washed down with generous and pour brandy , whose residues , together with the remnants of diverse food Zverev smeared on his balding head - " the hair to grow better and useful for the mind ! "
Of course, not only the role of a clown and bully cheered Zvereva . He visited and sad focused. Once, in a fit of great kindness allowed me to be called his pupil , but somehow just not adopt .
Understood , accepted , very appreciated in his own way , and perhaps he loved a woman - Oksana Mikhailovna Aseyev , the widow of the poet Aseeva . Oksana M. treated very gently to his beast , much forgave him , which is not surprising - after all her youth been tempered friendship with Mayakovsky , Khodasevich , Khlebnikov .
Zverev 30 years younger than she seemed to her , perhaps, almost a teenager with all his antics . She loved his talent , and, indeed, the best portraits he wrote to her. He worshiped her patience , timeless beauty. Zverev often told her: " The old woman , if you die , I'll kill you ." So about happened, code in 1986 did not become Anatolia , once melted, sprayed trail and Oksana M. .
I was not able to understand and truly accept this person, but some of my portraits that he was " blinded " from cardboard and plywood , generously squeezing paint directly from the tubes , live, and perhaps somehow even prolong my life ... Who knows ? ...