an egg and a pigeon of humid
bleu cracks on one of aloian's canvases pass into the background
read at once as air and space: space of world and scope for
a life miraculouse and a thought wonderful. all this imitates
the egg patterns, every millimeter of which is fraught with
the birth of empyrean light and unspeakable miracle. remembering
the first intentions of our creator, and more than that, - remembering
the feeling he experienced during the seven days of creation
("and saw the god that it was good"), - aloian is recreating
the world free of sin, unknown to vanity and delusion. pure
are women and animals, pure and not of human making are landscapes
and still-lives, radiant and incorporel are the prokov fogs,
and angels, soaring, making music or respiting.
life is rounded or aspires to become a circle: the circle is
on guard of the green (christ's colour) on "the boat"; it becomes
a small window of our dream, almost blue on "a bird". the circle
is dark and terrifying on "a sleeping cosmonaut"; and if all
is only striving to circle in "shyshkin paintings" landscape
curves, and it is almost a circle in "serafim sarovsky" in a
tender dale bow; and on "hay carriers", it is already that very
circle which rhumes simultaneously with the rising sun, with
an easter egg, and with a woman's lap. more..> |
