Firebird in the Clutches of Loneliness
The Ukrainian fine arts are currently undergoing a period of brutal commercialization. How many gifted artists who used to work to orders, including those from the state, have turned into ordinary craftsmen or street peddlers! But would it be fair to blame them for their thinking more about their daily bread than high art? In Kyiv there are many private galleries in addition to the state- owned ones, which buy pictures, sculpture, and works of applied art. The provinces lack such possibilities. There are art salons, but usually they are not popular among either the artists themselves or the public. Thus, trade is mostly carried out at spontaneously created markets where an artist can sell, even if at a lower price, a couple of his or her works. And you can hardly expect some of today’s affluent Ukrainians to invest a certain sum in an artist.
These cheerless considerations arose after my having met Luhansk painter Tetiana Ktytareva who is nearly the only one in Donbas to have professionally mastered the skill of mstera, varnish painting on wood and blotter. One is amazed with the variety of plots, rich colors, and elegance, represented by her works. For decades, three Russian villages — Palekh, Mstera and Kholuy — produced miniaturists. Usually, after completion of their training, they stayed to live there. Tetiana was one of the few who left Mstera, at the price of her class being reduced. In those times, such a punishment was imposed on those who refused to work in the industrial sites of this famous arts school.
Today, the works of Tetiana Ktytareva are hidden far from the eyes of the people, because at the provincial market they will hardly find a buyer able to appreciate them at their true value. This is precisely why Tetiana, like dozens of other Luhansk artists, is forced to accept the terms of the present day, suppress her pride as an the artist, and bear to reproduce her works in order not to turn into a constant petitioner and to be financially independent. Yet, even under such circumstances, each of her creations is diligently painted and heartfelt. That was how she was taught. And, besides, her character does not allow her to work otherwise. The Mstera School, and the fine style of the artist distinguish her works among the many fakes exhibited at Luhansk art salon, despite the fact that for her miniatures Tetiana has quite long been using oil-paints, rather than distemper, saving these remains of past luxury for special works. And the artist has no doubt that she will paint many other good pictures like, for instance, Prince Ihor’s Campaign. If only she could sell one or two of her most powerful works so that, by virtue of getting some money, she could retire from the routine and completely plunge herself into true art.
All these years Tetiana has been living on the hope that things would change for the better both in this country and in her personal life. For over ten years she has been moving with difficulty, and her illness, unfortunately, is progressing. But it is only her feet that refuse to work. Her hands, as before, do not know when they are tired, carrying a double physical load. Now she intends to carry out a grand project which is amazing not so much due to its scope, but due to her faith that she will be able to do it and breach the wall of indifference. She wants to found her private school where she will teach gifted people the art of mstera, and to create a series of works whose topic will be Slobozhanshchyna (historic area of eastern Ukraine and neighboring areas of Russia never under Poland-Lithuanian seeking refuge from serfdom — Ed.), her adopted homeland. The artist’s place of birth is Voronezh oblast, but fate carried her to Luhansk in the Donbas. And although these two oblasts belong to two different states, Russia and Ukraine, they are united by one historic area, Slobozhanshchyna. The artists goal is to glorify this region, to express its colors and specialty.
Creating the school will be arduous. For a start, Tetiana needs to buy a one-room apartment in her neighborhood, and equip it with everything needed to conduct training sessions. Tetiana plans that in addition to 12 pupils, which will constitute a permanent group, she will teach free of charge two or three gifted persons having different levels of disability. At the same time, she wants to create a workshop to produce items from wood and blotter. In a word, the issue is one of opening an enterprise that will be engaged in souvenir production. She allows two years to implement her idea. Now she is in a hurry, superstitiously believing, that if she fails to achieve her goal when she is 42, she may as well give up her career as an artist. However, you should take such an attitude with a grain of salt, for Ms. Ktytareva has never been a pessimist. You would be easily convinced of that if you saw the life-asserting plots of her works.
But even an optimist should admit that nowadays no domestic artist, moreover, provincial one, can spread his — in this case her — wings without financial support. In some places, private galleries appear, maintained by bankers and businesspeople. It is rumored that the First International Bank in Donetsk which, incidentally, supports gifted individuals and entities, has a small collection. However, this is the exception to the rule. Interviews, conducted in Luhansk among commercial bank officers and businessmen showed that those with the wherewithal are not willing to decide what their attitude is toward the works of local artists, let along help them financially. Who will help Tetiana Ktytareva and dozens of other gifted painters? The problem still remains undecided. ***
One of the latest works by Tetiana Ktytareva is entitled The Bird of My Loneliness. The title defines the place of the artist in our society faultlessly.
