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Shahen Khachaturian
Grant me, O Lord, selfless delight,
And I shall shower it over every field.
I shall share it, like the sun, with every horizon.
Writing about an artist and basing the entire work only on his paintings, is one thing, but it's quite another thing when you have spent the whole decade close to him, and daily, sometimes even hourly, conversed with him, watched him working in his studio, gone for walks with him, or gone to the market and chosen fruit, and written down his words so as not to miss any of his thoughts.
When, in 1967, the Museum of Martiros Sarian was founded, I was appointed its Director, according to the master's wish. So, the above words are about me.
Writing all this, I feel happy and anxious at one and the same time. Much has already been written about Sarian, and his creative work has been thoroughly analysed. I can mention at least the latest works by A. Kamensky, D. Sarabianov, V. Razdolskaya, V. Matevosian, and A. Agasian. I shall try to get a new angle on the master, to show little-known or completely unknown sides of his creative life, and to emphasise those aspects which he himself wished to emphasise.
Every day, I visited Sarian early in the morning. Sometimes I found him at the window of his drawing room, sometimes in the garden. He would answer my greeting with a story of what he had just seen before my arrival, and something which seemed so insignificant to others was appreciated by him as something considerable and filled with profound meaning. He could talk continuously about a tree, a branch, a flower, or a dog jumping around him; but a genuine devotion to everything alive was invariably felt in his words. One could speak about it endlessly. The essence of true love is, verily, feeling oneself a part of the surrounding world. And Sarian saw, and tried to know himself, in everything without exception. Sharp and thoughtful eyes invariably gave witness to his interest, both in the interlocutor and in the things around him. He was a Nature worshipper. Nature was his mother, his life, and his God...
Speaking of Nature, he often repeated one and the same idea several times, but he always expressed it in a new way. "Life," he said, "is an island. People come out of the sea, traverse the island and pass again into the sea. Cognising Nature, we cognise God; admiring Nature, we praise God." Or he said, "Nature creates Man so that it may see itself through his eyes, and that it may admire itself. Man is Nature, and Nature is Man. There is no death" *[Here and further on, the words by Martiros Sarian are quoted according to the notes made by the author of the article in 1967-1972].
Listening to Sarian, I frequently recollected the words of Valery Bryusov, about the 18th century Armenian poet Sayat-Nova: "Diversity is in uniformity." Sarian could grasp a fleeting moment in daily life, in Nature, and discern its special beauty. Always feeling himself to be a part of Nature, he never ceased to express his delight.
The main thing that inspired him to creative work was his motherland. He was tied up with it, like a tree and the soil, and he was a true citizen. His youthful dream of serving the high ideals of art was inseparable from his immense and tender love for his native land. There was no day when he did not speak of the fate of his motherland, of his people's tragedy, and of the innumerable victims of the genocide of 1915. At such moments, the painter seemed to be especially lonely and, at one and the same time, amazingly united with the world surrounding him.
"Do not worry so much, Master..."
"How can I not worry? I am a human being! An awful tragedy has taken place, and the world still does not know about it."
Once I asked the painter's wife, Lusik Lazarevna, what Sarian had talked to her about most often after their marriage in 1916. "About the same things which you yourself hear from him every day," she answered. "About our motherland, its destiny, its future. Having spoken to the refugees that had escaped the massacre, he felt so depressed that he decided to stop painting completely. In Rostov, where we lived during the Civil War, he was busy with the foundation of the ethnographic museum of the Don Armenians, and he did not paint. It happened not only once. It took place in 1937, at the height of outrage and injustice, and in 1948, when he, together with Shostakovich, Prokofiev and others, were accused of formalism. It was at that time, at the meeting of painters in Moscow, that he asked for permission to speak, and told the audience about the painter who had constant success in the years of his youth. 'This artist executed paintings on the basis of photographs,' said Martiros, 'and when others learnt this, he committed suicide.' At that meeting I was sitting behind the chairman of the Artists' Union. He understood it was a jibe at him, and told his neighbour in a low voice: 'All right, we'll choke him off with the help of the rouble.'
"How much we had to abide! Having returned from Yerevan, the despairing Sarian started destroying his paintings, including the best ones. Only after Stalin's death did our life seem to settle down. In 1962, he stopped painting again, but this time because of the death of our elder son. It took him years to recover..."
I have recollected the conversation with the painter's wife not by chance. The atmosphere that prevailed in the country at that time was reflected in Sarian's art, as in a mirror. He was able to meet the challenges of life, but he responded to the intense tragedies of the time with the silence of his brush. However, after every pause, his art revived again, like spring following winter.
Sarian lived for ninety two years. Although it was late in his life, he still received national recognition. He even saw the museum bearing his name, and he presented it with fifty of his paintings. He walked around his museum as a visitor, and, as a true devotee of art, he rejoiced when his best paintings such as: Night Landscape, Walking Woman, By the Well - Hot Day, Nina Komurjian, and many others, had come back from their travels. But fame did not change him. Nothing could deprive him of his inborn nature. He amiably received everyone who wanted to see him and, as it had been before, we heard his ode to Nature: "Argue, work or fight," he repeated, "but never feud. Always, and in everything, follow Nature."
Everyone who knew Sarian was inevitably captivated by the clarity of his mind, by his invariable humour, by the purity of his soul, and by his striking modesty. For his contemporaries, he was, and still is, an example of a perfect man who is inwardly rich, spiritually healthy, morally strong, and verily wise.
What role has the Museum of Martiros Sarian played in the destiny of the artist's creative heritage? The museum appeared as an annex to the house-studio of the painter, and for three and a half decades of its work, the number of museum exhibits has increased fivefold. The collection consists mainly of the master's early works, including the paintings from the cycle Fairy Tales and Dreams (1903-1908), which have returned to life, so to say, from non-existence. Today, the museum gives its visitors an opportunity to get a complete view of Sarian's art, from its very beginning to its very end. In addition, many unknown works by the artist, which are kept in museums in various countries and in private collections, were located.
They say that one should live in Russia for a long time; the same can be said about the Soviet Union. Practically all conceivable awards and prizes were received by Sarian when he was in his nineties. If he had lived for a shorter period, he would never have held in his hands an album or a book on his art, he would never have seen how the popularity of his early works - those free and daring creations of his youth - were revived.
The first album of Sarian's art was published when the painter was ninety. Among the paintings displayed, there were just a few early pictures which could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The early period of the painter's work was considered to be "formalistic" (a purely Soviet category), and was usually not spoken about. At foreign exhibitions, only those canvasses were exhibited which agreed, in one way or another, with the dogmas of Socialist Realism. I recollect how, in 1960, when I was a young worker at the Picture Gallery of Armenia, I was not allowed to include in the general exposition Sarian's remarkable Persian Girl...
During the recent decade, the situation has changed. The interest in Sarian's art grows every year. Exhibitions of his work were held at the Georges Pompidou Centre in Paris, in Italy, Germany, Greece, and Hungary. The museum continues its search for forgotten works by the master (suffice it to say that in the catalogues of the 1910s, there are a number of works which are not known to us yet). The present publication has been compiled on the basis of work that has been done by the Museum.
1903-1908
Every artist has had some stimulus in life, which impelled him to painting. Sarian had such a stimulus. During his school holidays, young Martiros worked at the post office, and once, in his spare time, he drew a sleeping old man. A day later, the old man fell ill, and it was said that this happened because of that ill-advised drawing. The picture was destroyed, but the tragi-comical episode left its mark on the boy's life.
At the Sarian Family council, it was decided that one of the children of the hereditary farmer would receive an art education. So, seventeen-year old Martiros was sent off to Moscow. Despite having entered upon a new phase of his life, Sarian never forgot those principles which had been instilled in him by his patriarchal family.
Martiros Sarian was born in a small town, Novaya Nakhichevan, near Rostov-on-Don. His childhood was spent in the natural surroundings of Azov, on the isolated farm of his father. About six hundred years previously, the painter's ancestors, as with many other Armenian families, had emigrated from the destroyed Armenian capital, Ani *[Ani - an ancient Armenian city, known since the 5th century as a fortress of Armenian princes. From the 10th to the 13th centuries it was the capital of the Armenian kingdom of the Bagratids], to the Crimea; during the reign of Catherine II, they moved to the banks of the Don River. At the end of the 19th century, the large family of Sargis Sarian lived a settled and simple life.
Once, answering my question, Martiros Sergeyevich (his patronymic was already pronounced in the Russian manner) said: "I do not know when the painter was born in me. It happened most likely when I was listening to my parents' stories about our far-away motherland. Since childhood, I have dreamt of this 'fairyland,' and I came to love our people, scattered all over the world. My passion for pure, rich and infinitely diverse colours was revealed at the time when, as a little boy, I was running and playing in the neighbourhood of our house, admiring the colouration of flowers, butterflies and grasshoppers. Sunrays were shining like pearls; my heart was elated... Colour, light and dream - these are what kindled the fire in me..."
Probably, the fire was also awakened in Sarian by the things which have not been spoken about until quite recently. He lost his father when he was seven, and in that year he was taken to the town, as it was time to go to school. Little Martiros received his primary education in an Armenian school, where he was taught by the future Catholicos of all Armenians, Gevorg VI. The schoolboy Sarian, together with his younger sister, sang in a church choir. Although, he did not mention this fact in his memoirs (for a reason which is quite clear), a love of church chants remained with him all his life. From time to time, the painter sang portions from the ancient Armenian liturgy. He called the liturgy the first and immortal national opera, and he loved it immensely. He always said a prayer before he started to paint.
The Christian world view and spiritual purity were always determinative for him. One very demonstrative detail should be mentioned: Sarian spent his student years in Moscow, and his diary of that period was in Russian, but the exception was the first page, on which was written in Armenian, a prayer about the victory of good over evil.
In 2001, Armenians around the world celebrated the 1700th anniversary of the conversion of their country to Christianity. Christianity, which, according to legend, was brought to the land of Ararat by the apostles Bartholomew and Thaddaeus, played a much greater role in the destiny of the Armenian people than for those of the European countries. When Armenia lost its independence in the 14th century, the church became the main organising centre in its national life. Up until the 1920s, when this age-old tradition had been abruptly stopped, the words "devotion to the motherland" and "devotion to the church" were synonymous for all Armenians. However, the church performed not only spiritual but also purely secular functions; as a result, the laws of Nature and life gradually became the laws of the Armenian Apostolic Church which, for ages, had been nurturing and determining the national character. The universality characteristic of the Armenian branch of Christianity allowed for the growth of the pantheism inherent in its culture. The belief in God became the belief in life and light.
According to the words of the poet Vahan Tekeyan, the church is the place where the soul of an Armenian is born. Sarian's soul was also born in the church, and when he went out into the world, he was full of pantheistic ideas. His belief in the unity of the universe, in the indissoluble oneness of Man and Nature, and in the immortality of everything alive, was in his heart from the very beginning, and served as the source of his creative searches. The confession of the painter Sarian was the confession of a Christian.
To develop into an artistic conception, this confession should have been tried in the furnace of professional training. Young Sarian was lucky. He acquired his skills in painting in the most progressive Russian institution of that time, the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture. Among his teachers, there were such prominent masters as Nikolay Kasatkin, Abram Arkhipov, Leonid Pasternak, and Isaac Levitan. Having graduated from the art school in 1903, Sarian continued his studies at the portrait studio of Konstantin Korovin and Valentin Serov. Later, these distinguished artists became Sarian's friends, and they always fostered his bright originality and brave searches. Having developed the freedom of self-expression, Sarian was ready for rapid creative progress. This progress depended not upon his reason, but upon his feelings as, according to the words of a distinguished Armenian historian and priest, Gevond Alishan, a painter "creates with his thoughts in the heavens, and his hands on the earth."
In 1901, whilst still a student and supported by his elder brother, Hovhanness, Sarian visited the land of his ancestors for the first time in his life. The meeting with Armenia appeared to be the meeting of dream and reality. The painter's impressions were ineradicable, and from that time Sarian visited his motherland almost annually.
Sarian rediscovered the world of his childhood there. He saw with his own eyes all those things which he dreamt of as a child: The mountainous nature of the land, very unusual for a person who grew up on the Russian plain; ancient architectural monuments; the play of the rays of the flaming sun; and the devotion of Man to his land - all these penetrated deeply into his mind.
Sarian's spiritual riches and professional skill found their soil in this land. Armenia became an inexhaustible source of inspiration for the painter. "All the multitude of sounds of Nature, and the rocks whose dark contours, as seen in the twilight, seemed to have been erected by a skilful architect, put us in a romantic mood. Nature can sometimes draw a man into her fold like a mother pressing her child to her bosom," wrote Sarian.
Marvelled and fascinated, he saw in Armenia the reflection of his own spiritual essence. It is in this land that his unique purposefulness and the wholeness of his art have their origin.
In Armenia, Sarian found his future palette; however, it did not happen at once. His first works, of a sketchy character and executed in dark-grey hues, bear the impress of the knowledge received by him during his years of study at the art school. However, it is necessary to note that one can feel in these works some agitation and a romantic breath. The observer can easily guess what the young painter is agitated about. Sarian wrote: "All that I saw impressed me greatly, but for all the knowledge and skill I had received in the course of my studies, I was unable to reproduce it adequately. It called for a new pictorial language and a new treatment... I had to get rid of the precepts I had been taught, so mundane and obtrusive, and to find my own idiom, forgetting that of others..."
A gentle, clear pictorial surface, characteristic of watercolour, was in accord with the painter's searches. He decided to use this technique, and the nascency of the first cycle of his independent works, Fairy Tales and Dreams, is quite natural.
Sarian started his creative career with the tales and, in these, two directions can be discerned. Besides the watercolours that reflect reality, watercolours of a fantastic character were executed.
If one gives just a cursory glance to such paintings as Fairy Tale of the East (1903), At the Foot of Ararat (1904), The King and His Daughter (1904), and By a Spring (1904), it will inevitably strike the eye that the quite real environs are inhabited by unusual characters of an eastern origin (their prototypes can be easily found in drawings of an earlier period), and they have an extraordinary fauna. Where did all these panthers, peacocks, gazelles, and snakes appear from?
The one who is acquainted with Armenian culture involuntarily recollects khorans, ornamented arch-like compositions decorating the title pages of medieval Armenian manuscripts of the New Testament. Sarian had a thorough knowledge not only of the national architecture and wall painting, but also of book miniatures. The multi-coloured khorans, woven from the decorative images of various plants and animals, were an ine-xhaustible treasure house. In the Fairy Tales, as well as in later works, there was not any similarity to medieval art. All this wealth was easily transfigured in the painter's soul and inspired him. However, working in a different genre, he "quoted" the details of khorans. An example of these are two dragons drawn on the programme which he illustrated for the Moscow Armenian soiree (1904); and on the title page of the anthology "Poetry of Armenia" (1916), edited by Valery Bryusov, in which Sarian reproduced a page of a miniature. Unfortunately, the originals of these two works, and the scenery for the Armenian soirees of 1902-1904, were lost.
Sarian's tales are often perceived as a window into the heavens, as the dream of an earthly paradise. Trying to achieve this impression, the artist used devices which poeticised his paintings and which gave some symbolic subtext to them. Smooth and elegiac colour forms, "singing" the rhythm of the drawing; the harmonious sounding of the colouring system; and the poetic atmosphere, bear witness that Sarian's art is akin to the symbolism that spread throughout Europe and Russia at that time.
Love -
Fairy TaleSymbolism was predetermined by the spirit of the epoch. The tension felt in the air made most cultural figures break all ties with the hateful reality, in order that they could find peace in dreams and enjoy the beauty of art to the full. As a true artist, responsive to the pulse of the time, Sarian sought novelty not at the other end of the world, but on his native soil.
In short, Sarian's symbolism is individual and personal. His watercolour and gouache paintings are the peculiar interpretation of what he saw, the so-called intimate dialogues with Nature. The fairy-tale spirit, unexceptional colouristic taste and inward purity give a special magnetism to his watercolour paintings.
Sarian's initial passion for fairy tales lasted for two years. From 1905 he turned to a denser medium and technique, in comparison with watercolour - tempera. In his new works, fairy subjects are still present, but his philosophy of Nature has noticeably deepened. The latter is shown as something virginal and pristine; people, plants, animals, birds, and even wild beasts, live together as a united family. In the paintings Charm of the Sun (1905), Poet - On the Hillsides of Aragats (1906), Panthers (1907), Comet (1907), By the Sea - Sphinx (1908), and By the Well - Hot Day (1908), Nature is perceived as an infant-like world of fantasy. Light colour dabs, which seem to be flickering on the canvas surface, form an exultant pyrotechnic display of colours.
In those years, Sarian, together with a group of Russian painters kindred to his soul, took part in several exhibitions. The most significant was the Golubaya Roza ("Blue Rose") Exhibition (Moscow 1907), which inaugurated a very important stage in the development of new Russian art, particularly symbolism. The art critic I. Hoffmann wrote, "In the work of the masters of the Golubaya Roza, painting gained the capability of plastic representation of non-material categories - spiritual movements, emotions, moods..." *[I. Hoffmann, The Golubaya Roza, Moscow, 2000, p. 98-99]. This observation can be referred to Sarian as well.
In the fifteen works of the painter which were displayed at the exhibition, there is one characteristic feature which makes Sarian stand out among the other artists of the group. This is light, the glaring, hot light of the south, which seems to be shining from the depth of the canvasses, captivating observers by its power, intensity and, verily, fairy-like magnetism. In Armenia, it is this light which made the brightest impression on Sarian. It is this scorching light which dazed the Moscow public, and which detonated both a storm of criticism and warm support.
The light was the Cosmos, where the painter created his fairy tales, and where he realised his fantastic visions. The source of Sarian's symbolism was vital. The light conditioned the originality of the master's art, its novelty and inward power. Trying to avoid high-sounding statements, Sarian, with the patience and belief of a true peasant, achieved a wonderful expressiveness with the help of his main teacher, Nature, which is so "multivarious, multicoloured, and 'forged' by the powerful and unknown hand."
In 1908, Sarian had to take a new step and, finally, solve the most important task, that is to crystallise his own style. It is at this time that he saw in the collections of I. Shchukin and I. Morozov, and at the exhibition organised by the Moscow journal Zolotoye Runo, the works of contemporary French masters, in particular the Fauvists. "My acquaintance with French artists lent me wings, and convinced me that the path I had chosen was right," wrote the young artist. However, instead of going to Paris, Sarian again turned his thoughts to his roots, for he knew what he strived after. He understood the French painters deeply. Gauguin had said, "The painter should always be what he is, always what he is." Only the person who is self-confident and rates daring at its true value can do this. This is the quality of the true master. Sarian's letter of 1909 is further evidence of this. "Barking can be heard all around," remarks Sarian quietly, "almost all newspaper dogs bark, because it's very easy to accuse, and very hard to do anything. I pursue my way steadily, and I am more certain than ever in the righteousness of what I do."
Even now there is the opinion (which can be found in most encyclopaedias and dictionaries), that Sarian became Sarian only after his trip to the countries of the Middle East, that is after 1910. This is a capital error.
The works of 1909: Self-Portrait, On the Way to the Well, Summer Heat - Running Dog, and Hyenas, are an unequivocal witness to the changes that had taken place in the art of the painter. Sarian finished with fairytale subjects, characteristic of his previous works. He concentrated on real life, and we shall see below that reality or, to be more exact, the forms of reality, were generalised in his works ne plus ultra, without losing their tangible, firm inner construction.
The history of art is the history of styles. Not to find your own style means to find nothing. However, Sarian was steady in his purpose; he always knew what he wanted. "The Armenians," wrote Sarian in 1906, "managed to introduce much originality into architecture. Here, we find - and I say it with pride - the creation of the national spirit, creations of a purely Armenian style." At that time, when the painter was only twenty six, the style was already the main category amongst all other main categories.
The symbols disappeared from the paintings of 1909. We see true reality. The view is two-dimensional. The third dimension is absent - the observer perceives only the illusion of depth. The forms of subjects are reproduced almost in silhouette. The compositions are built on the equal mathematical distribution of large colour masses. Distinct, "contrasting-harmonious" colour combinations form spatial planes which seem to be filled with light emanating from within, and which take the observer's imagination to the Orient, to the land of the flaming sun.
Sarian's colour contrasts declared the power of light; and he could achieve this effect by merely applying four or five large dabs of colour. The brighter the light, the subtler the colour "sang," and vice versa. Light was the principle. Such is the conception of Sarian's style. The translation of this conception into reality was the most complicated task which the master set himself, and which he successfully solved. By the way, the colourfulness of Sarian's style is felt not only in his landscapes, but also in his still lifes and portraits.
What was all this founded on? Imagine that you are standing in the dazzling light of the sun, and your eyes are closed. What will strike you immediately after you open them? Extremely bright light! You will perceive houses, trees, people, and animals - everything that moves or is immobile - as silhouettes. To catch and to render this impression, Sarian simultaneously applied colour and built the form of objects; as for the composition, it was already decided in his mind. This is what his pictorial system was based upon. The acuity of perception and the fixity of that which was seen in his mind's eye were so strong that he could paint, especially landscapes, not from Nature but on the basis of small drawings.
In his canvasses, Sarian reproduced all of the above with absolute accuracy. He rejected all that was unnecessary, reducing the visible world to pithiness and simplicity. Accordingly, his pictorial means were also concise and simple. One should not forget that light has no colour in space. The colour should be created, made visible. Sarian tried to find an equivalent to colour. "I heighten colour, heighten shades," said the painter, "in order that the colour can sound stronger."
Sarian managed to decipher the pictorial cryptography of the Orient. If, from birth, he had not had such an acute eye, we would never have seen such a unique harmony of colour and light, their splendid, eternal and, at one and the same time, intangible duet...
Maximilian Voloshin wrote in 1913, "Although Sarian's art reflects the East, he is not an Orientalist. This is what his originality and significance are based upon. His creative work is inspired by filial feelings. His romanticism is his nostalgia. The aim of his work is to express the quintessence of the East. He originates a new aspect to our attitude to the East, and shows that the time of spiritless and stiff Orientalism is over." The Russian poet and painter expressed the essential originality of Sarian's art. The words by Voloshin are a worthy epigraph to the creative work of the Armenian master.
1909-1921
Date
PalmNobody goes hunting without a gun. Thus, before starting on a journey to the countries of the Middle East, Sarian thoroughly prepared his arsenal of weapons. In 1910, "in search of new impressions," he undertook a journey to Constantinople. This was followed by several summer trips: to Egypt in 1911; to the northwest of Armenia (now the territory of Turkey) in 1912; to Persia in 1913; to the south of Armenia, and to the region of Gokhtan (now the territory of Azerbaijan) in 1914. World War I prevented the painter from visiting India and Japan.
The years 1910-1915 were marked by the greatest revival of Sarian's creative work. One by one, there appeared masterpieces which became the emblems of his art: Street at Midday, Dogs in Constantinople, Date Palm, Walking Woman, Night Landscape, Egyptian Masks, Desert - Egypt, Flowers of Kalaki, and portraits of I. Shchukin, and the poet A. Tsaturian, etc.
In Armenia, as elsewhere in the East, the painter was interested least of all in modern life. He was attracted by the simplicity of lifestyle that had remained unchanged since ancient times, and was distinguished by the close affinity between Man and the land, manifesting the idea of eternity. The world that was so dear and familiar to Sarian was a world seen by him the way one saw it centuries ago. He narrated what he saw with the voice of his soul, the way his ancestors could do it: simply and with emotion, achieving "the concise poetic phrase, the aphoristic oriental word, and the adorned, but, at the same time, extremely simple distich" *[D. Sarabianov, Russian Painting of Late 1900s - Early 1910s: Essays, Moscow, Iskusstvo Publishers, 1971, p. 92].
Here is Street at Midday. Having suffused a narrow street, stretching far away, with the colour apricot, the painter achieves much with moderate means. The major chord of glaring light embodies within itself the typical features of an oriental town.
Here is Date Palm. Far away in the desert, against a background of the unfathomable azure of the sky, the tree has spread its branches widely. The power of the fervid rays of the sun is felt in everything - in people, in animals, in the walls of the houses... The light, in combination with colour, inspires observers with a wide range of joyful feelings.
The colour ensemble in Sarian's works is never repeated, something which gives witness to both the "diversity in uniformity," characteristic of the national character, with a special eye for colour, and the free variations characteristic of the painter's art.
In Night Landscape (this painting was also called Nocturne), the poetic silence of the moonlit night is reproduced by means of the most delicate musical harmony of four main colours. By the way, the painter uses black, the principal colour of night, least of all, or so it seems.
Here is Walking Woman. This woman holds in her arms a tray with food, which looks like a model of a pyramid. The plant in the background, which occupies the whole plane of the canvas, reminds one of the rising sun; its beam-like forms harmonise with the contours of the female figure perfectly. The image of the woman is so simple and monumental that it seems as if the Sphinx itself passes before our eyes, with part of the universe in its hands.
The same woman, now surrounded by animals and children, appears in the painting Fellaheen Village. The huts are grouped so as to produce an impression of a firm yet, again, monumental architectural construction.
Here is Desert - Egypt: a single shade of blue sky; yellow-purple mountains; not far from the tree with its thick trunk, a camel walks proudly, crossing a mighty desert ocean. Lotus stands out among other paintings due to the very delicate use of the colour white. The melodiousness of lines and a fine combination of colours endow this artistic pearl with a unique charm.
Translucent colours of the still lifes, Flowers of Kalaki (1914), Flowers of Sambek (1914), and Flowers of Armenia (1916), resound like a triumphant hymn. All these works have an aura of primeval beauty. The captivating duet of light and colour generates an unforgettable feeling of fullness of life, joy, and mild sorrow...
In the 1910s, as a novelty subject, Egyptian masks and other objects - ornamented ceramic vessels, house wares, etc. - appeared in Sarian's canvasses. The ideal of "immortality," which was at the basis of Egyptian art, was very consonant with the painter's world view. It was not by chance that in 1906 he wrote a rapturous article on the cultural heritage of the ancient Egyptians. He spoke about the Sphinx as if he saw it with his own eyes. Two years after that, the painter represented the Sphinx as a woman. In this character, which seems to be born of the land itself and is inseparably connected with it, Dame Nature is personified. In its turn, in Persian Girl, the face of the Oriental beauty seems to be transformed into a mask. The approach is rather curious: the face is transformed into a mask, and the mask is turned into a living face. The living being and the work of art are filled with one and the same meaning.
Sarian long had an inextinguishable interest in the art of the ancient Egyptians. If there were any other fountainheads of his soul besides Armenia, these were the enigmatic creations of the land of the pharaohs. This significant detail had never attracted the attention of researchers before. They probably looked at Sarian's cycles of Egypt, Constantinople and Persia as a united eastern cycle, because they looked at Egypt as just another eastern country. It should also be mentioned that Sarian's memoirs, where the author gave a detailed account of his impressions of Egyptian art, were published only half a century after they had been written. In the introduction to the Armenian edition of 1966, the art critic V. Matevosian pointed out for the first time the ideological and artistic connection of the Armenian master with Egyptian art. There is, however, a paradox which surprises. Fascinated by the Sphinx and the pyramids, Sarian wrote about them with enthusiasm, but he never painted them. In his canvasses, he reproduced Fellaheen villages, peasant women, and camels; as for the works of art, there was only one object which he painted - the mask.
Having acquired five masks in Egypt, Sarian subsequently presented four of them to the Museum, but he did not want to part with the fifth one, and he hung it on the wall of his studio. This was his talisman.
In Sarian's still lifes, masks, with their strict, generalised forms look down at us from the past, and they are perceived as living symbols of something inconceivable, mysterious and eternal. Located near to household effects and, later, near Man (Poet Yegishe Cbarents, 1923; My Family, 1929; Self-Portrait with a Mask, 1933; Katharine Sarian, 1963), they give equal weight to different elements of the composition. The memory of great Egyptian art never left Sarian, and it inspired him more than once.
The creative progress and discoveries of Sarian took place at a time of active revival of old traditions, when there arose in artistic circles a general interest in the art of ancient peoples. In this sense, Sarian's art is unique for the Orient of his time. In the countries of Islam, the golden age of art fell in the Middle Ages; in Sarian's epoch there was no re-evaluation of old traditions. Against the background of European art which, at the beginning of the 20th century from Delacroix to Matisse, often appealed to the Orient, Sarian's art was distinguished by the extraordinariness of his approaches. He went to the Orient not for its exoticism, but in search of his roots. It is not by chance that Maximilian Voloshin saw in him "a European in Asia and an Asian in Europe." As a matter of fact, this dualism is just one of the qualities which, since ancient times, is characteristic of Armenia, a Christian country orientated culturally to the west, but still remaining eastern.
Sarian, like his compatriots, Ivan (Hovhanness) Aivazovsky in the 19th century and Georgy (Gevorg) Yakulov in the 20th century, developed as a painter amidst Russian cultural surroundings. The creative work of the three masters belongs, to a considerable degree, to Russian culture and, at one and the same time, it enriches Russian culture with some qualities originating in the Armenian national soil. For instance, Russian symbolism - a very important stage in the development of Russian painting - cannot be imagined without one of the most active of its participants, Martiros Sarian. Sarian was not indifferent to the tendencies which determined the development of French painting. At the beginning of the 20th century, he managed to visit Paris. He saw the works of "new Frenchmen" in Moscow. His acquaintance with them provided a good lesson for him. He seemed to have tested himself, and he assured himself of the righteousness of what he did. Sarian liked the French masters and was grateful to them. Having lent wings to him, they seemed to be telling him: "What you need is to free yourself from fantasy as soon as possible..."
The exhibitions, "Paris - Moscow" (1979) and "Moscow - Paris" (1981), afforded us a happy opportunity to compare Sarian's art with the art of his contemporaries, and to see the originality of his artistic language, the extraordinariness of his colours and, lastly, to value the place which he has amongst the greatest masters of the epoch. The leader of the Fauvists, Henri Matisse, with his symphony of decorative colouring rejoicing the heart, borrowed each colour from Moroccan and Algerian nature, like the cream from the milk, and he developed his own pictorial conception.
Sarian, an Easterner by birth, could not, and did not, want to follow this way. Equal to Matisse in quicksightedness, he never "skimmed the cream from the milk." Decorativeness was inherent in his painting to the same extent that it is in Nature itself. To make the colour more "sounding," he strengthened the light. Colours will sing if there is more light. Sarian never gave weight to decorativeness. To see in him a totally decorative painter means to be much mistaken. Sarian built his compositions two-dimensionally on a single plane, as did Gauguin, Matisse, and, to a certain extent, Ce'zanne. Using this principle, Matisse achieved the musicality of contrasting-harmonious combinations; his singing colour spots express zest for life, towering above the routine. Ce'zanne, trying to retain the openness of colour invented by the Expressionists, reduced the aerial perspective, drew the objects nearer to the observer and, deepening the colour surface of the object up to the hilt, depicted the density and the materiality of the surrounding world with great skill. The tendency to strengthen the depiction of the subject, as originated by Courbet, was applied in Cezanne's art in a completely new way. The genius emerging within him made him the originator of a number of new movements in 20th century painting. Speaking of Sarian, let us pay attention only to the quality which was characteristic of his art. Like Paul Ce'zanne, he took from the visible world the typical form of the object, that is the form which consisted of some generalisation; however, this was not enough for him. Sarian generalised and simplified it to the maximum extent, almost reducing it to a silhouette. However, the inward structure of the form, its expression in all its states - in statics and in motion - was invariably retained. People, animals, trees, and fruit never lost their original and distinctive forms under his brush. Sarian worshipped Nature and, trying to achieve the maximum expression, he never transfigured real forms. This can be said not only about his landscapes and still lifes, but also about his portraits. The main difference between Sarian and Ce'zanne is the light. Sarian's light seems to be caressing, embracing, and imbibing everything that is visible. The world seems to be floating in light, bathing in it; the world and the light are indivisible. It is here that the principle of Sarian's realism, and the origins of the cosmos of his art are hidden. Three painters, so different in their conception and world view - Matisse, Cezanne and Sarian - declared their common ideal in their own way; each of them told of the eternal beauty of life, in his own style. For Sarian, the key to it lay in the sunlight of his motherland. It is in this light, pouring from his canvasses, that the painter derived, to quote his own words, "that power of fascination which, in various epochs, was achieved in different ways."
Thus, Sarian's understanding of reality and his method of depiction are not based on the influence of the European masters' paintings, or on the impressions gained from his trips. Sarian's world view has its roots in his blood, in the instincts and culture of his ancestors. "In this architectural logic of painting," wrote A. Kamensky, "in this inward completeness of the general system of pictures, one can see the original influence of that national-traditional architectonic feeling which manifests itself in most of the various works of Armenian art, no matter if it is a solemn ensemble of the temple, or a simple carved door, a memorial stele, a khachkar *[Khachkars - cross stones (Arm.) - Armenian Christian monuments, which were widespread throughout Armenia since the 9th century. These are flat, upright slabs of stone of different sizes (the biggest are about 3 metres long), richly decorated with carved ornaments, and having the image of a cross in the centre. They were placed on the territory of churches, monasteries, and other cultic places, as well as on sites which were connected with various events or people honoured by the church] to one's health, or a tiny khoran opening the book of evangelic narrations" *[Martiros Sarian, Leningrad, Aurora Publishers, 1987, p. 115].
Sarian always remained true to himself, to his inner sense and, like his people and his church, he never withdrew from his path.
The phenomenon of Sarian as a painter was determined, amongst many things, by the general revival of Armenian culture at the beginning of the 20th century. For a people whose art was filled with the traditions of many ages, for a people who, at the beginning of the last two centuries experienced a rise in national consciousness, such a revival was historically vital. Public and political changes also played their role. It is in these years that the folk epic of David of Sasun was recorded and published. Poetry and theatre had also enjoyed a golden age. Toros Toramanian established scientifically the originality of Armenian architecture, and Alexander Tamanian proved it in practice by his unique constructions in Yerevan, the new, twelfth, capital of the country. Komitas revealed to the world the national music in all its purity, and Aram Khachaturian continued his work. The representative of this pleiad, Sarian, established the national thought in painting. He renovated the national style, returned Armenian painting to its traditional colourfulness, and raised it to the contemporary level. This was his mission of genius.
However, the spiritually revived nation had to face a crushing blow. In 1915, when war raged in Europe, Turkey started an unprecedented act of barbarian destruction, that of the Armenian population living in their native land. The whole of Western Armenia was devastated (the eastern part belonged to Russia). About a million and a half Armenians died - almost half the nation. Tens of thousands of the refugees who survived the massacre fled to Yerevan, the main city of Eastern Armenia, and to Ejmiadzin, the centre of the Armenian Apostolic Church. Many refugees died from starvation and epidemics. The tragic news of their awful situation reached Sarian. He locked his Moscow studio and hurried to Ejmiadzin.
What he saw there can only be imagined by one who had survived the war and who saw the horrors of death. It happened that in that hell Sarian could well have crossed the path of an eleven-year old boy who was later to become the greatest Armenian painter. He came from the village of Khorgom on Lake Van, and his name was Vosdanik Adoian. He won fame under the name of Arshile Gorky. The creative work of this later-to-be American, the originator of abstract expressionism, was inspired, like the art of Sarian himself, by recollections of the past. The years spent on the banks of Lake Van seemed to him the paradisal life, in those days; they endowed him with a bright, fairy-like palette, as was also the case with Sarian. Sarian and Gorky, who never actually met, seemed to be akin to one another through their never-ending love for their motherland, and through their everyday concern about its destiny ... Depressed and on the brink of frustration, Sarian was taken to Tiflis. His creative potential was broken for some time. The only thing that he still painted were flowers, which were as beautiful as ever, the flowers that praised life and resisted violence. In addition to this, "the revolutionary nightmare" started, and Sarian was almost struck dumb. The crisis lasted until 1922. It seemed that there was no power capable of returning him to active, creative work. Only an event of historic scale could do this; the outburst of some living impulse, filling his soul with new energy to start everything anew, was needed.
1922-1972
Being a boundary province of Tsarist Russia, Eastern Armenia found itself detached from the rest of the state during the years of revolution. In May 1918, Turkey seized the opportunity to send its troops to Ejmiadzin. The danger, which had had no analogues in the history of the Armenian people, threatened them like the sword of Damocles. In fact, Armenia was faced with the same question as Hamlet: To be or not to be. In the battle that took place close to Sardarapat, the enemy was stopped and flung back. Armenia, after many years following its loss of sovereignty, was again declared an independent state. However, two years after that, this national "offspring" - the Republic of Armenia, with a population of about a million, and a territory of thirty thousand square kilometres - had its existence terminated; it was merged into the Soviet empire.
Girl’s Head
(Portrait of Sarukhanian)Sarian had spent the troublous years of revolution in his parents' house, and he did not have to solve the problem of where to live. He never even thought of emigration. No matter under what flag his nation lived, he would never have left it. In the autumn of 1921, Sarian started out for Yerevan. This move was nothing out of the ordinary because, at that time, many leading representatives of the Armenian intellectual world descended on Yerevan from different countries around the world. Sarian brought with him ethnographical and art exhibits collected by him in Nakhichevan-on-Don. This new stage of his life started with vigorous public activity. On his initiative, the State Museum of Armenia, the Committee for the Protection of Ancient Monuments, the Artists' Union and the Art School were founded. At the same time, he travelled throughout the length and breadth of Armenia, probing deeply into the nature of its character. Tens of small paintings, and numerous drawings, laid the foundation for his future creative work. In his modest house, which served both as his home and his studio, new canvasses were born: My Courtyard, Mountains - Armenia, Old Yerevan - Summer, Midday Calm, Poet Yegishe Charents, Sunlit Landscape, Armenia, etc. Sometimes it seemed that the master was again painting dreams, as he had twenty years previously. But no, these were waking dreams. Looking at the devastated country, the painter dreamt of its future. This is the way Nature heals wounds after a storm, and rejoices at the spring sunshine. In these new works of Sarian, the light shone out again with amazing power. The eternal peace and the magical harmony of colour, light and air were the collective image of his native land. Sarian's view of it is permeated by a lyricism, and an epic feeling. This is the land which existed centuries before, exists now, and which the painter dreamt to see into the future. This is Sarian's personal vision; this is Armenia, abiding in the painter's soul. The most characteristic feature of the new works is their imagery, based on balanced colour planes which endow the canvasses with a monumental sounding. These are not landscapes; these are portraits of the motherland. Such an understanding was revealed in the curtain produced by Sarian for the State Theatre of Armenia. Executed in 1923, this huge piece of art represents the image of the country. Of the spectators who saw this huge Sarian painting before a performance, it is easy to see what feeling filled their hearts. Sarian wrote, "I strive to depict on canvas the fully-fledged life of a small stretch of land which has undergone many calamities, has been profaned many times, but which has also been sanctified by blood and faith." He also wrote, "This stretch of land on the slopes of Mount Aragats is, for me, a source of hope; like a support for our ancient people, which generously gives us strength and determination. I want to show the world that our stony land nurtures both our hard-working and talented people, and the cultural monuments created by them... Everything, everything in this land is evidence of the unquenchable life force."
The following words of the Armenian poet, Yegishe Charents, were very consonant with Sarian's art:
I love our sombre sky, the dear waters, the lighted lake, The summer sun and the howling winter storm sublime, The black, uninviting walls of shacks lost in darkness, And the thousand-year-old stone of ancient cities I love.
Wherever I may be -I shall never forget our mournful songs, I shall not forget our iron-lettered books, turned prayer; However deeply our blood-drenching wounds pierce my heart - Orphaned and bleeding - I still love my beloved Armenia.
Translated from Armenian by H. Kelikian
The authors of two Armenias - poetic and painted - look at us proudly and courageously, as if saying, "I am with you, Compatriot, and the spirit I am filled with is also your spirit..." Delving much deeper, the observer would discover a new side to the expression: "Grant me, O Lord, selfless delight..." Sarian and Charents were akin in their rejoicing at the new image of the motherland, and it's not by chance that their names are still on the tongues, and in the memory of their people.
Before the Soviet system fell, art critics, me amongst them, saw in the Sarian of the twenties the reflection of the time, and even the ideologist of the Socialist regime and revolution. Certainly, in the hands of manipulators, Sarian could become the means of propaganda; attempts of this kind were made. Moreover, he might be presented as a kind of messenger of the revolution, as they did with Constantine Petrov-Vodkin and his Red Horse. Fortunately, Sarian's creative work did not afford any material for such manipulations. Armenia, as well as many of the other republics, did not live happily in the Soviet times. But Soviet power gave the Armenian people some respite; they did not face the problem of physical survival any more. During its long history, the nation used such "respites" for creative work. The same thing happened after the revolution. In addition, the volcanic wave of energy, which the figures of Armenian culture experienced at that time, continued the spiritual revival of the previous period; it slowed but did not stop. Was Sarian the singer of the Socialist epoch? First of all, the time never influenced him, at least not in a direct way. Quite indifferent to politics, he always cherished in his art something which was timeless. The time never spoke in his paintings; maybe it only breathed a little. In his canvasses, love spoke - the universal love for life. Secondly... "The Soviet ideological lifestyle is alien to Sarian," someone wrote about him in 1926. "He does not see the ways of the socialist life. It remains unopened for him. Sarian flees from the city. His art is orientated to the village. The old seems natural for him; the new seems to be artificial. Formalism is the way he still follows; for him art is, first of all, art itself, where technique is important, not the idea. Detached from life, the painter searches his way in the spontaneous and vacuous 'depths' of his personality. He has no point of view. He is a man of emotions and impressions" *[H. Vanandetsi, Martiros Sarian and Yegishe Charents, Yerevan, 1926, pp. 8-9]. The following note was left by Sarian on the edge of the book: "Cretin! Is it because I do not have a Party card?" Once the Master told me that he had asked one of the executives if he should join the Party. The answer was rather unexpected: "You are a painter, so do your work." Sarian said, "Clever and understanding people have always existed everywhere; life without them could become meaningless. They have protected and inspired me. So, I did not become a member of the Party. And what for? It is Man that is important for any man. Enemies are numerous. One becomes an enemy without knowing the truth and without any desire to know it."
Both the enemies and ill-wishers, people who worshipped their deskbound positions in the Party and in the Government, as well as the protectors and esteemers, accompanied the painter up to the end of his life. In the end, the enemies surrendered. However, the disputes amongst art critics, concerning Sarian, still continue. Most often, they oppose Sarian's early and late work. Many of them value the pre-revolutionary period of his art and disregard the "clearly realistic" works of the Soviet years.
If Sarian had died at the age of thirty - which was quite possible in his circumstances - then he would have returned to God everything that he had received from Him. However, the painter lived and worked for more than half a century. Canvasses executed by him during these decades are "a futile gift, a gift fortuitous," *[A line by Alexander Pushkin] inherited by us from the artist. And we cannot but be grateful to him. In order to understand and appreciate the "second" Sarian, one should realise, first of all, how Armenian art developed in the Soviet period, and how Soviet art itself developed. If we do this, we'll immediately see what a huge gap would have arisen without Sarian.
A true creator never thinks that he has any historical role (this role will be defined by the future); he just creates, originates values. The Soviet art critic, Nikolay Punin, wrote in 1932: "...Sarian is rich, and his creative life is rich and varied; each work of his is new, having nothing in common with the previous one. A slice of life is viewed and shown in a new way, the way it has never been seen before... His early works have the same close connection with Nature as his later works... The creative path followed by Sarian as Man, is his life... In the early works of the painter, such integrity was achieved with the help of colour, and the silhouetted rhythm (by a line cutting the form), and in the later works it was achieved by the unity modelled, filled with air and coloured space" *[On Sarian, Yerevan, 1980, p. 99]. The value of the "second" Sarian, especially in the initial stage, is undisputed. Having come to life on the basis of the "first," he is quite original and independent in his ongoing progress. Maybe, the acuity of innovation became weaker, but not the acuity of vision and spiritual perception.
Forty-year old Sarian, together with his contemporaries, the poet Yegishe Charents and the architect Alexander Tamanian, guessed, with a sixth sense, that the image of their motherland gazed upon the horizon. In this image was concentrated the only power that influenced the painter. The most intimate dream of the nation was manifested in it. The geographical borders of the motherland were firmly defined by politics. It was necessary to recreate its living features, to crystallise its national type, to establish its new spiritual foundation, to find its artistic "passport," and to arrange its development upwards. There was no other way to establish the country in a historical context. The best masters of Armenian art and literature understood it well. Sarian was destined to become one of the pioneers of this creation of the motherland. He imposed this mission on himself like a bounden duty, and he dedicated his life to it. The personal merged into the global; he felt how the heart of his country pulsated in his bosom. The sorrows of many people were reflected in what he did. He created paintings like prayers. If in the past he prayed in front of the altar, now his altar was the sky of his motherland.
The "second" Sarian did not descend from the apex conquered by him, he just moved from one apex to another, but one which was not lower nor less beautiful than the previous one.
We can remember here the very striking words of the Russian painter Vasily Kandinsky: "Every painter knows what to say; in the same way, every nation knows what to say, including the nation to which the painter himself belongs. This relation is reflected in the form, and it is characterised by the national essence of creative work" *[V. Kandinsky. Essays uber Kunst und Kunstler. Bern, 1973. S. 20]. The artistic image of Armenia, with its century-old heritage, this inwardly inspired image, demanded from Sarian the global dimension (it was necessary to see the biggest in the smallest), and the firmest subject basis. From these considerations, the painter turned his thoughts from tempera painting, which is fine when one has to express impulses and moods of the moment, to oil painting.
In 1924, Sarian took part in the Biennale di Venezia. His paintings were a success, and he returned from Italy inspired. In his motherland he was honoured as a "People's Artist of Armenia." Soon after that, he was sent to Paris where he stayed from October 1926 until February 1928. Judging from what Sarian painted in the French capital, one can say that he missed his motherland greatly. In addition to several studies of the banks of the River Marne, he executed more than forty canvasses on Armenian subjects, whilst staying in his studio. The colour structure of these works did not undergo much transformation in comparison with his previous works. The colour orange, in combination with green and blue, are dominant, endowing the paintings with a melodiousness and a lyrical air. Sarian's nostalgia is seen not only in his painting. He sent many letters from Paris to Yerevan. In 2002, the first volume of the book of the painter's letters was published; it shows how the painter lived according to the daily needs of his motherland, even whilst being far away from it... The works of the Paris period were exhibited at the Sarian exhibition in the Girard Gallery. On the way to Yerevan, all of them were destroyed in a fire aboard the ship carrying them. It was a terrific shock, but the master, who had survived massacre, managed to cope with his personal grief. One of the first paintings which he executed on his return home was My Family. It is permeated with a rare naturalness and conviction. There is something Egyptian in the portrayal of the wife hugging her children; and near her, against the background of a dispassionate mask symbolising timeless values, including family life, the painter is depicted, looking calmly at his family.
However, those eyes, reflecting the inner peace of the painter, would soon shade into gloom, as the Government issued an order abolishing independent associations of artists, by which the painter would be obliged to follow "the only true way," the way of Socialist Realism.
Sarian was one of those representatives of the intelligentsia who, very early, felt where the totalitarian regime could lead a free-thinking person. In the country, repressions had already started; many people were sent into exile or to prisons; many of them were destined to die.
In the well-known self-portrait with a mask (it always watched him as a wakeful guard), the tragedies of the past are manifested. This self-portrait is like the author's conversation with the times and with himself. We see the tired face as if it had a metallic tint. Squinting, thoughtful eyes are directed to a distant scene. Does the painter feel solicitude for the destiny of his country and for the suppression of freedom, or do his eyes muse upon the past?
As in the portrait of Yegishe Charents, the mask is placed near the face. The painter experiences the pressure of the times, but the eyes of the mask, which looks like a second self-portrait, are directed to eternity. "Always remember," wrote the painter, "that art is the laurel wreath of self-knowledge and self-exaltation, something that humanity wove for itself at all times and will always weave."
It's difficult to say what the fate of Sarian could have been, but at that time the country needed the talented master who was able to execute a huge artistic panel. In October 1936, the painter was invited to Moscow and asked to produce a five-metre painting for the Soviet pavilion at the World Exhibition, to be held in Paris. A year later, Sarian won the Grand Prix for this work. At the same time - the painter had not returned to Yerevan yet - portraits of repressed people were withdrawn from the exposition and burnt in the yard of the State Picture Gallery. At home, alarmed relatives destroyed documents and letters which could bear witness to Sarian's acquaintance with "the enemies of the nation," and his contacts with foreign countries. The name of the painter, as well as the name of Avetik Isahakian, a great poet who, after many years abroad had returned home a year before these events, was added to the list of political suspects. In Armenia, Isahakian, as well as Sarian, was called Varpet, i.e. Master. Luckily, the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Armenia, A. Harutiunian, who had just been appointed to this position, intervened and saved their lives. "Leave the old men alone," said the party leader of the Republic who, fortunately, valued art. A year later, during the Decade of Armenian Art held in Moscow, Sarian was awarded the Soviet State prize for the scenery of the opera, Almast.
The year 1948 was no less terrible. Following a decree issued by the Central Committee of the Communist Party, newspapers were full of negative criticism of Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Khachaturian, Sarian, and other "formalists." The painter again retreated within himself...
Starting during the 1930s, the artistic language of Sarian changed considerably. Having achieved the "principles of realism," which he considered to be the highest stage of art, the painter turned to realism which was more attractive for an inapt eye. When we talked with him about it, he said: "I was not afraid of painting people and fruit in a simpler way than I did before, or to reproduce space in a more apparent and distinct way. Doing this, I could express myself. It was important not to betray myself and my feelings." One should remember that Sarian never worked out of sheer habit or professional necessity. He painted only when he wished to, under the influence of some vibrant feeling which he could not hide within his heart. A distinguished painter who loved the Master immensely, Minas Avetisian, once said: "The power of Sarian is seen even in his average works." Indeed, even in the most realistic pictures painted from nature, Sarian reconstructed what he had seen rather determinatively; here the colour structure corresponds not so much to the real landscape as to his inward vision. It's easy to notice that in the 30s the colour sounding of Sarian's canvasses was as conditional as it was in his earlier works. The difference lay in the forms, which became more volumetric and concrete. As for the colour, it always dominated in his canvasses, expressing the inward vision of the painter, his instinct; according to Sarian, life was first of all expressed in colour. This quality was the most characteristic of the master's art, and it was never subject to change.
During the subsequent decades, Sarian created a great number of paintings (the years of the war were especially fruitful): portraits, landscapes, still lifes, drawings, and watercolours. By the '30s, his best theatrical works had been executed, and among them was the scenery for the operas: The Golden Cockerel, Brave Nazar, Almast. With the assistance of the state fiction publishers - at the beginning of the '30s it was headed by Yegishe Charents - the book art of Armenia enjoyed a revival, following the masterpieces of medieval manuscripts. Sarian contributed much to this. Delving into the world of the folk imagination, he executed with great enthusiasm tens of illustrations for different publications of Armenian tales. They, as well as his scenery, are permeated with the humour and attraction of traditional national life. With his work, reminding one of the creative work of the farmer, the painter presented Armenia with an Armenia of his own, warmed with the pure love of this rich and generous soul.
Look at his landscapes more attentively. Sarian's sunny colouration always manifests "the understanding of the essence of life inherent in Man." In the works of this genre, there is not even an element of rationalism; we see in them Nature in its primeval beauty, and we listen to its wise silence. At times, the painter reproduced Nature in an epic monumental way, with the help of a symphonic ensemble of colours sounding optimistically and exuberantly. A very important detail for the country where religion and faith were totally ignored, was that Sarian very often included old churches in his landscapes. Moreover, their domes and bell towers are often perceived as "the hub of the universe" (the words of the painter), as a leitmotif in honour of the motherland and life.
Poet
Anna AkhmatovaLook at his portraits. The poets Yegishe Charents, Anna Akhmatova, and Maria Petrovykh; the architects Alexander Tamanian and Toros Toramanian; the film director Sergey Eisenstein; the scientists Stepan Malkhasian and Josef Orbeli; the writers Ilya Ehrenburg and John Steinbeck... In these images filled with strong emotions, psychological depths are invariably seen - the portrayed personages are concentrated, lost in reflection. Sarian's portrait gallery, numbering about a thousand works, is a gallery of creative and inwardly rich people. As a great portraitist of his epoch, Sarian still has to be thoroughly studied. Even nowadays, his portraits are a splendid unsurpassed school for painters, and not only for those just beginning.
In the Master's still lifes, the gifts of the earth - fruit and vegetables - are a source of rich colour, illuminating the surface of the picture by their natural light, and facilitating a captivating harmony of hues. A very unusual point of view is characteristic of Sarian's still lifes: the painter often placed fruit on the floor and studied them from above. This method allowed him - as was also the case in landscape compositions - to approach the infinitude of space without limiting himself by the boundaries of a painting. A further detail was the painter's love for the gifts of the earth, which was so great that he bravely introduced vegetables and fruit into his landscapes and portraits, diversifying and unexpectedly strengthening the context of the work.
Still lifes with flowers should be especially mentioned. Sarian painted flowers both at sorrowful and happy times. Wild flowers, heralds of spring's revival of Nature, have an exclusive place in his creative work. Floral still lifes are perceived more than the works of any other genre, as a direct discourse with Nature, as the embodiment of the painter's undying belief in the triumph of good. Sarian executed his most significant floral still life during the days of victory in World War II. He was inspired, first of all, by the all-national belief that it is possible "to overcome death with immortality."
As has already been mentioned, during the last years of Sarian's life I visited him daily. I committed our conversations to paper and, in addition, I put before him a clean sheet of paper every morning, asking him to draw something. He agreed unwillingly, but as soon as he started to draw the first lines, I left for the Museum; I knew that the Master would finish what he had begun. When I returned in an hour and a half, the drawing was practically ready. "What are you drawing, Master?" I used to ask. And he, as a rule, always answered: "I do not know, but whatever I draw, it is always Armenia." This is how his last drawings were executed, and on each of these drawings his dear land, dear mountains are reproduced. This is the way the painter illustrated my book, Man - Nature, Nature - Man, dedicated to the 90th anniversary of the Master's birth. The later drawings were quite a new page in Sarian's creative work. They seemed to manifest a return to his youth, to his earliest works. The crossing jets of lines, following one another, are turned into a painting with the help of some magical power. The drawing process gives the impression of variations on a personal theme, the impression of a free play of strokes in which the sub-conscious is freely imprinted. In the '60s, everyone was fascinated by cosmic flights. In Armenia in particular, they were happy to hear the words of the cosmonaut Alexey Leonov that from Space the Earth looks as it does in Sarian's paintings. Having heard this, the painter said with characteristic humour: "Leonov probably guessed that I had visited the Cosmos before he did..." Soon after that, Alexey Leonov came to Yerevan and visited the painter. Sarian asked if Mount Ararat seemed as magnificent from Space as it was in his paintings. Leonov smiled and answered that it looked exactly that way...
With time, the atmosphere around Sarian changed. His house attracted young artists. The "shestydesyatnyky" (the generation of the sixties) especially respected Sarian. This was a generation that had struggled for freedom of creative work, against the monotony and greyness of Soviet painting. Once, Sarian asked me to prepare ten or fifteen canvasses, as he wanted to execute some new paintings. The results of the ninety-year old painter's inspiration were canvasses with fantastic subjects (recollect the works of young Sarian!): Mountains - Sunset, Earth, and Tale. The master dazed us by his undying energy and the youth of his soul.
A few hours before his death, Sarian asked in a very low voice: "Give me to drink the water streaming from the pure skies of Armenia." For the Master, his motherland was an embodied tale, and it is with this tale that his life came to an end. Years will pass, but Sarian's art will always be perceived as Being itself, as a song of happiness to life, and as timeless evidence of a belief in God. Penetrate into his canvasses, and it will seem to you that with Sarian's brush, Armenia created its own image. Such an image cannot but be the fruit of one able to bear the highest spiritual revelations, and such spirits are chosen as the symbol of the Motherland.
Sarian is a symbol of Armenia, a symbol arousing "good feelings" in Man. The art of Sarian is greater than time or national borders. It is like a hosanna to light, to all that is beautiful on earth, and to all that is eternal.
Translated by Irina Klubkova.
from art-book "SARIAN" | | Shahen Khachaturian. Poetry of Light and Colour ( RUS ) |
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Publishing House "AGNI", 2003 |
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© Serikova Helena. Internet version |
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