Vahan Ananian (1959 - 2006)

[Кирилл Сызранский]

Сообщение от artcol

let us not argue about taste!

Yes, indeed, we all have different tastes.
I liked the painting here, however, as the site ...

[artcol]

Work on the site (as described later period), any comparison does not come with "kikasovskimi (early ?)... Pleasing to the eye, the formalism is almost gone, the color of the net ...
But I love more realism (where "literature") or pure experimentation (pure formalism). And all that in the middle - somehow passed. I feel kind of salon in this, "ponaroshechnost", "game".

[luna]

Сообщение от artcol

"Not seeing live" - I agree, but this is only a painting, "kontemporari" (or national?). Academic can even look in b /w photos, and everything will be immediately clear.

You can estimate qualitativeness painting on photographs, b /w-version? - Take off my hat - you are brilliant!

Any art was once "kontemporari" and rejection of the proponents of academic painting of the new directions related to the endless stories - to argue about meaningless.
Of course - "like" - "not like" - is a criterion, but very subjective.

[artcol]

Сообщение от luna

You can evaluate qualitativeness painting on photographs, b /w-version? - Take off my hat - you are brilliant!

Thank you. Previously reproductions of classics were often in black /white version, and nothing looked, and all was clear. But what "good art" enlighten?

[dedulya37]

Сообщение от luna

Academic can even be watch in b /w photos, and thereALL just be clear.

Read carefully, young lady, he's not evaluates the quality, and understands what is written there.

[sss]

luna,
Thank you for what you are doing works Vahan.
I expected (looking at the sites), that someone is not indifferent.
From Vahan was a friend and I appreciate him as an artist. He was one of the first modern writers, whose works I liked the "live".
Qualitativeness present already in earlier works, in any case, their energy component was on the face, and picturesque, as such, made a big impression on me. At many sites do not work 86-89 years, who were imprinted in my memory (apparently, they were sold to customers at random, and hopefully sooner or later emerge). I remember a picturesque series of palms; Chagall motifs with the bull, playing the flute, many riders on the piers, surrounded by windmills ... amazing color one (cadmium, vermilion, ocher, gold leaf) and its graphic design ... were very expressive abstract paintings, almost monochrome and a series of surprisingly calm works based on nuances, very thin on the color reproduction. Remarkable sculptures of wire, fabric and clay.

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As I understand it now, it lacked the systematics in the work. Part of the blame for what were: basic household amenities, and unbridled destruction of the empire, wastefully timelessness, and even life itself, which led Vahan. It seemed to me that he did not know what to do with the energy flowing, often wasting it on trivial events, while vykladyvayas one hundred percent (for his own pleasure and tired of the same). If at that time turned up a serious dealer, I think, Vahan be held as a great artist. And so, had to deal with himself intuitively, splashing in all directions.
Around him swirled the mass of strangers, magically charmed his outrageous. The terms of communication - from black marketeers to comrades from the government. Someone openly considered him a madman, someone deeply sympathetic. But people really valued the it as an artist and understand him as a person who was not a lot (this course). Martyrdom in this connection he felt, because was not a holy fool and the price currently known. In any case, to his creativity took seriously (for the paintings - no, loved them, but treated them like sheets of plywood).
Artist in many ways forms the environment, which in Tallinn, despite the presence of art university, was absent. Official culture was weak and provincial nationalist hostility. On the other hand, in the air, a kind of euphoria of freedom, or rather, tolerance and hope.
Generally, Tallinn at that time was indistinguishable from the rest of the Soviet space. Being a "postcard" town, pretty well regarded creative manifestations of madness. There's even the police were polite (as a rule, residents of Estonia, the term military service). Yes, and way of human relations allows informally, without formal requests to the Directorate, to negotiate, such as a lighting and theater to hire equipment to carry out, any hepeninga, in a rented until the morning (for "thank you") Exhibition Hall "House of tourists. You could right on Town Hall square to arrange a spontaneous concert (Vahan wonderfully played improvised flute), where, on a course of action, to invite a telephone call Sergey Manukyan (he lived in Tallinn) and pull up the actors' theater 4 ".
For many creative-minded people, Vahan was the center around which to form the alternative environment; husk were many, but nevertheless .... If it were not for the collapse of the Union, who knows what would all this could grow ...
I'm not idealizing his person. Be with him was difficult - both on a powder keg. It's easier to accept than to explain why you do not want ... And those people who felt his vampire pressure, despite sympathy for his work, often shunned his presence at any events: "Of course you can and call, but it's not necessary: there be decent people who do not understand. Little did he отмочит ... "
Many wondered, looking at his wife, as she calmly takes it all external extravagance. Theater on the stage - one thing in everyday life - other.
This behavior Vahan was not so much a natural manifestation of nature, how much the game as an integral part of the creative process through the formation and maintenance of the prevailing image.
I was not scared, not depressed, and moreover, enjoyed it.
For all these extravagant behavior I saw the depth, sophistication and even vulnerability. Vahan is understood and communicated with me on equal terms, it must be admitted, he felt very good people, and knew how and with whom to behave.

One night I met him in the old town. He sat on the steps of the cinema "Sõprus", dropped his head on his knees. I went to greet him, believing he was drunk. But Vahan was totally sober, just looked wildly tired.
- How are you? - I asked.
He put his arms around my neck, pressed his forehead against my cheek.
- Dear, poschli to MNE MNE ... so lonely - he said, and wept.

We walked along the dark streets in silence, all of the words were redundant.
I was about to leave when we found ourselves in a small room he rented in an old house, near the bus station.
- Pozhyalyuysta, left, eh? - He asked, lying on the couch, and a moment later fell asleep.
I stayed dozing in his chair. I woke up in the morning from the noise, when he, as if nothing had happened, going to the city, adding to the folder paper and packaging inks.
- Seychas budem pit coffee kuryt jamb and many rysovat portrety. Have to be very serezno not worked, er.
"Idiot" - I thought.
In his words intone pictorial theatrical posturing and optimism.
The taxi we got to the old city, where five minutes later he was sitting in the yard "Maiden Tower", teased passers jokes:
- Madame! I narysuyu your portret! Yes ne fear from this child is not beaten!
(Reliable charm. If the sentence I said - I would have stuffed nose).
From yesterday, the mood has disappeared. Around him swirled curious passers-by, the familiar routine: he studied them, unaware of my presence.
I tried to slip away, believing that during the day, we still can see each other again, but he okriknul me, came up as last night pressed his forehead to my cheek and said softly:
- Thank you, dear. Vidysch, pry tebe I ne shy beat slabs ...

Unfortunately, I did not tell you about the new hepeningah (! Automatic Dictionary Word insistently blurs the second letter "p"). Oh, and do not remember which one shot Glazistov, it most likely happened in the House of Poetry ", where Vahan on horseback read poems and washed the walls of the" mediocre poetry. " Similar activities were about ten. Some - a specially prepared, some - spontaneously organized by the situation itself.
I can not recall any action from beginning to end, some shrapnel memories, though, the emotional state of that time, records clearly.
I remember the climax of a presentation on stage Vahan, chopping sword wooden cage with doves and releasing them to freedom, at the same time plunged from the ceiling at the audience, sitting in the hall, a huge fishing net, thereby enclosing them in custody.
Or:
at the Concert Hall a concert of classical music during the performance of "Seasons" by Vivaldi, when the musicians on stage under the direction of the conductor is kept in suspense the whole room, flung open the front door, and on horseback rode Vahan, standing between rows. The orchestra continued to play, the conductor turned around in bewilderment, the audience was silent. Fixing to everyone's attention, Vahan took swab, soaped his bald head, slowly, shaved her straight razor, turned and rode away. All.
As it turned out, neither the conductor nor the orchestra, nor (naturally) the spectators were not warned. The course was only usher-drinker.
Often, hepeningi not have any specific scenarios and objectives. For Vahan they were a way of life. Actually, his whole life - an endless hepening and performance.

I once looked afternoon to his home. The door was open, the TV worked, Vahan asleep. When he awoke, he, instead of "hello!", He shouted:
- Bistro writing black paint!
I handed him a tube that lay on the easel.
He squeezed the paint on the floor, rubbed it with a brush and on the TV screen, two stroke, drew a huge mustache news announcer.
- Svolyachi!
News focused on the war in Nagorno-Karabakh.
A little lie down Vahan again took a brush and paint it methodically entire screen:
- Ne vozmozhno slyuschat weight this Brad.

Well, what is not performance? One-man show to a thankless audience.
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                                              Published with the permission of luna.

[luna]

If you have responded to the theme and went here - perhaps you know Vahan.
Now we are preparing a book about Vaganov, so I ask all those who have something to remember from personal contact with him - write to me or e-mail: kilpvahan@ukr.net. Along with the book to produce a catalog of his works and expanded web site - www.vahan-gallery.com.ua. If you have any of his work and would like them to be represented in the catalog or website - Please, send them an electronic version with the name, year of writing and sizes at the same address. Thank you.

[Glasha]

luna,
in this section of the sss is the material and his own remarkable stories
about this artist, who should not sink into oblivion)).
see here:

http://forum.artinvestment.ru/showthread.php?t=8045

Vahan Ananian (1959 - 2006)
He was engaged in painting, sculpture, graphics.
He has had solo exhibitions in galleries random, serious people in the eye, by accident, not caught.

In the 80-90 lived in Tallinn and was, by virtue of its extravagance, this ornament of the city. Each day, post their work on the walls of "Maiden Tower" and sitting under them, hooligans, painting portraits (not earnings).
I could afford: in the middle of the day to run away from the yellow-blue UAZ, riding on a stolen horse from the racetrack, cutting through the narrow streets of Tallinn, in a black cloak with foam wings behind his back and with a crown of dandelions on his bald head, and in the office to thank Estonian police for participation in hepeninge, and threaten that if they would not let the poor artist, but today their show on Finnish television:
- Well, schto mi - belyarusskie you guys Plakhov sdelyali?

Bright. Its neither among Ukrainian artists, nor among the Armenian, nor among Estonian, and he was.
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One day, he sat in the courtyard of "Maiden Tower", hung his paintings on the wall near the entrance to the bar. Among the onlookers, he was approached by a Swede and jabbed his finger in your favorite work.
- Yes, I too like this kartyna. I have it, znaesch how long rysoval ... Sandaliki you Choroszcz ...
- 800 euros!
- Okay, let's tisachu and sandals.
The Swede who does not understand a word in Russian, smiling, not yet realized that it is required.
- But! But!
- Ty Schto nokaesch? Not hochesch - then go buy sebe matroschku and a samovar.
The Swede did not let up. He took out a coin and, for greater credibility, and led her to the ground its amount.
- Schto ty tsarapaesch there? - Vahan his foot to put his foot Swede - Ti look, just my size, er ...
- 800! Okay?
- Wait, dear, - the artist plunged into the bar and went out a minute later with two coffee cups:
- On, Luce vipey coffee.
The Swede took a sip and lifted his eyebrows house.
- Drink, Drink, turyst! This is a very Choroszcz brandy.
They are surrounded by a grateful public, continued to bargain, periodically updating the coffee cups.

I left without waiting for the play. Returned late afternoon. The courtyard was empty.
Vahan well-oiled, folded his paintings. He wore "Swedish" sandals, "Swedish" shorts and "Swedish" shirt. And on the steps of the bar, in a pose Rodenovskogo "Thinker", in white shorts sat drunken Swede in an embrace with the picture on the back of which sported the inscription: "To my best friend Gustav. Kilp Vahan, 1989.



Зы so Зы. And you also were present, in one theme?
Only now noticed.

[Samvel]

Vahan I knew from 1977goda, he was one of the most amazing people I've seen in my life.
In the 13 years he completely bald, and began to paint.
Pictures drawn in 15-16 years were so amazing that no one believed that the author is a he.
I am the godfather of his son, Arthur. There are many different stories I can tell you about it, a surprisingly different.
For example: in 1977 I worked in the Yerevan city committee of the Komsomol and helped him, sickness, get rid of conscription. A month later he disappeared and no one knew of its location, and he told me that he heard some voices and his name is somewhere. At the end of 1978. I got a call from Moscow to KGB major work and began asking questions about Vahan. I told him that, no looking at the fact that he is not a member of the Union of Art. he is honest artist, not a parasite, and always participates in the exhibitions of young artists association. Mayor surprised and said: how is he able to participate in the exhibitions when he was 10 months ago, walking through the mountains of the Pamirs has crossed the border, reached Tibet and all that time lived with Tibetan monks. Chinese spets.sluzhby caught him and handed over to the KGB in Moscow. Had to get out of the Major realized that Vahan what is unusual, and a few days later called and suggested that we (the city committee of the Komsomol) vouched for him and he was released.
   Here are some early works from my collection.

[ottenki_serogo]

I knew a little Vahan. At the beginning of perestroika, somewhere in 84-85 years, in the municipal park in Odessa was fun. They stood with their works of young artists: "Peppers", "Martynchik" with its plasticine kingdom, many serious painters were.
Most outdoor exhibition and parties, but all there were sales. Vahan came and "Festival" - painted portraits, but in the process of running through the park, jumped up, screamed something - quickly assembled crowd. "Portraits" drew a formal, mostly abstract compositions on the theme. I liked these improvisations, they could see the talent. He had all bought 10 times more expensive than conventional portrait painters.
Sometimes we drank there, in Gorsadu.
I must say, with artists Vahan behaved very politely, "show" was only for the public. He was interested in various mystical traditions, it is evident that was in search.
Once, in 15-20 years, I sometimes saw him in town. He became serious, saying that he is ill. Yet the news of his death was shocking, no one expected this.
A posthumous exhibition held at the Museum of Pushkin. Many works of large format, philosophical themes, very Armenian-minded artist. However, the predominant color of the dark, probably later, the site it appears more varied.
Well, that there are people to make a site, the work of Vahan, certainly deserves such care and memory.