Presentation of the book George (Gaga) Kovenchuk in St. Petersburg

[fabosch]

January 31 at the hotel "Rachmaninov" (St. Petersburg, ul. Kazan , 5 ) presentation of the book St. Petersburg artist George Vasilyevich Kovenchuk known in narrow and wide circles as a brief , but concise name " Gaga " (not to be confused with the " lady gaga "- she appeared much later , and obviously" licked " great name to GW) . The presentation was accompanied by a small exhibition of paintings by the artist thereof . The exhibition, however, done in very cramped conditions in the literal sense , as placed in a narrow corridor. Nevertheless, the exposure turned out pretty good. And about the book and the author , I would say individually, but in the next post , because now is no time.
put pictures from the exhibition and presentation. Author can contemplate on photo 4 and 7

[mihailovoh]

fabosch,

Very nice little hudozhnik.zhal you have shown his work in the photo.

One of my collection of Mother's luck x \\ m 1992

[Кирилл Сызранский]

mihailovoh, there is a topic on the forum
Gaga Kovenchuk [/COLOR][/B][/URL].

[fabosch]

Thank you Oleg Nazarov for the subject of Kovenchuk, I saw her just now.
Well, if issue is, can I have just about the book.

Kovenchuk Gaga - people polymath. In addition to paintings and drawings he makes sculpture and graphics, video shoots, book design. Above all, he is a great storyteller, and is endowed with outstanding literary abilities. Incidentally, at the presentation he said that during the preparation of the famous almanac "Metropol" Bits Andrew asked him to take part, too. Gaga has given his story, but it was rejected by V. Aksenov, who said that writing these things is not enough anti-Soviet. I must say that Gaga, like any true writer, a bitter truth of life richly sweet syrup diluted with fiction, so what this bike more - or the most gpzh stories - hard to say.
So on the book. It is called "House number eight and the other" and contains something like a memoir of prose. It is difficult to find a precise definition of the genre of this book. Better, perhaps, to quote the words of Lev Losev, cited in the preface:
"... It's not really stories. This is more than just a memoir. Sometimes it's even a few lines. All this fun and interesting piercing. And I would even say lyrically. But mark my other writings of the genre will not undertake.
Yes, I do not know how to define this genre, but I know what it looks like more than anything. In Pushkin's drawings. Just as a poet in the margins thoughtful and easy to traces flight of witches, has beauty, mating devils or self-portrait, the artist in the fields of his memory and easily draws thoughtfully notes, stories, portraits from life. Taken together, they create a light, fun, good book. "
Indeed, this is such a book, started reading that it is very difficult to stop. It is addictive. And everything is very easy, witty, effervescent ... However, it is better not tell Losev. And while my post is already not a little, I can not help but quote here one of his miniatures.

The case in the kindergarten
Many years ago when my now grown son has gone to kindergarten in one of the sleeping areas, where was our new co-operative apartment, that's what happened story.
In a kindergarten at the time was almost impossible to get, and just because my profession - an artist, but in these circumstances he was enrolled in this small sample a two-story garden. I was in agreement with the headmistress from time to time there is something they draw. I gladly accepted, but had never done anything like it and a little worried - and suddenly could not do it.

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We have started a new, relatively quiet life: in the morning, we assigned her son to kindergarten at a time, while they themselves were engaged in its main business - Joan on the job, and I ran to the shop. In the evening we were taken Alyosha, he told us about his new life, and like him out there like that. About me seemed to have forgotten, and suddenly, like a bolt from the winter sky, I hear:
- Dad, you were asked to come tomorrow with tassels.
Early in the dark, dank morning, we arrived, gliding over bumps between construction ditches, before kindergarten, and I appeared before the headmistress.
- Here is a table, chair, paint, here's a glass wall - Draw something fun for them, the New Year. It is necessary to please the kids.
From the kitchen smelled of something forgotten, nasty: a children's meal. Kids, do not undress, took a morning walk, and I put a shaky stool on the table and set to work. Cleaning lady in a dressing gown brought a bucket of water and gouache. Having inspected the work front, I decided to get rid of a little blood - to depict the snowy forest, and here and there to draw primitive snowmen with carrot noses. Paint a good lie down on a clean glass. I mainly worked with whitewash, well, and, of course, Christmas trees were green. The case was moving quickly. The only problem - it does not fall from the stool in those moments when it was necessary to reach the ceiling, or bend over to dip the brush into the bucket. It was pretty cool, especially the head, because I fear bald shaved her bald: no hair compensated for a small goatee.
By the time all led with a walk, work was almost finished. Kids, make a din, stood at the foot of my building, completely filling the entire zalchik, the teacher was off somewhere. I looked down at the rave, red from the cold faces and saw that the children approve of my work. Among the children was my son: he was evidently proud of his father. The room was filled with noise, laughter, children screaming, and suddenly, through all this hubbub and the shriek shrill voice, which are able to scream only children, a child screamed:
- WE LENIN!
I nearly lost his balance and fell straight into the crowd enthusiastically yelled.
- WE LENIN! LENIN! LENIN! LENIN! LENIN! - It started from all angles. Apparently, they are reminded of the famous story of how he arrived to the children of any tree, and I do not know what to do. I did not know how to explain that I was not Lenin. I was afraid of falling off the stool directly into a crowd of noisy children, I have analyzed the laughter, and I do not understand how can I stop bryznuvshie from all the tears of this case. Through tears, I saw my son, pushing elbows comrades, all red and disheveled strolls to the door, none of the children did not pay attention to him. All eyes were on me. After all, no one could come to my mind that Lenin could be the father of one of their comrades. Only two people knew the truth - my son and I just proud of his father, and now participates in this great deception ... Fortunately, all of a sudden there was silence - who is sensible of the children shouted:
- After Lenin died ...
The silence did not last long, some victims of the mighty Soviet propaganda and agitation, cried with joy incredible power:
- Lenin ozhivel!
Enthusiasm increased a thousandfold.
I do not remember what it was over, but I know - it was all probably all the children who were at that moment there is still always remember this episode.
My Alex does not like to remember this incident, which occurred in a kindergarten on the street. Omsk in the mid-60s of the XX century, and I understand it.

Сообщение от mihailovoh

fabosch,
Very good hudozhnik.zhal You have shown little of his work in the photo.
One of my collection of Mother's luck x \\\\ m 1992

mihailovoh, pleased that the picture Gaga live in Rostov. From the work Kovenchuk I have a number of its graphics. I believe that the more graphic Kovenchuk Kovenchuk-painter. I'll try to scan in the near future at least some, and put