Philosophy of light

Olena Yablonska was 90 years old when her exhibit “Podykh svitla” (A Breath of Light) was launched. In her paintings we find what we constantly lack in our daily lives: an orchard, a tree outside the window, flowers on the window sill. Artists perceive the undemanding beauty of the daily routine as a holiday. They are permitted to notice this beauty, love it, and share their love with other people. Yablonska is one of these artists.

Her paintings resemble verses with their poetic mood and immersion in the beauty of the fleeting moment. True poetry is like air, balancing on the invisible boundary line between wisdom and insouciance. This poetry is reflected in such works as Winter Landscape, Spring Holiday, White Bench, and An Old Apple Tree. Her inspired work called Bonfire amazes the viewer with its unusual composition and color range. Another painting, entitled Grass, shows a section of a meadow, a tribute to her childhood.

“To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour.” (William Blake)

Olena Yablonska was born into a distinguished creative family. Her sister was the celebrated artist Tetiana Yablonska (1917-2005), and her brother, the noted architect Dmytro Yablonsky (1921-2000). Olena married Yevhen Volobuiev (1912-2002), who was a singularly gifted artist.

Yablonska followed her own creative path, and what she has achieved is very special and memorable. In addition to painting, the artist spent some 30 years doing illustrations to children’s books for Veselka Publishers. She created merry images that children can understand and which help them perceive the surrounding world in an open and happy way.

Ms. Yablonska, your exhibit is a real discovery for the viewer, an opportunity to pause, think, and become inspired by the light emanating from your pictures.

This is exactly what I have tried to achieve. Once after an exhibit I was told that there were “amazingly, no ideas, no philosophy, but a good mood.” This is my current philosophy; I want to put people in a good mood. My friends used to ask me to let them stay in my studio for a while, so that they could see my paintings and relax. Friends would come to the studio while I was working and say, “Please let me to stay here. I had a fight at home, so I want to calm down.” My paintings helped them relax and then they would go home to make peace.

All my life I have sought to achieve this bright and light tone. I have redone my works, and at the end of my life I have discovered a way to convey my feelings. Now I really enjoy painting. My colleagues used to tell me to go easy on this and that in my paintings, whereas I concentrated on highlighting certain things while going easy on others. I would look for a place to make it the brightest spot, and when colleagues visited, they would say, “Now it looks better. What did you do? Did you follow our advice and go easy on some places?” In fact, I had done exactly the opposite, so that the dark places went out by themselves while I emphasized the bright ones.

Your picture Navesni (Springtime) depicts an amazingly blue sky. Why do you concentrate on nature?

People have always prevented nature from following its natural course, treating it ruthlessly, destroying it. Nature has its own poetry. Even swamps are beautiful in their own way, with their own wildlife. But then man steps in to do swamp reclamation. After that the place loses its natural beauty. Nature has its own laws; we can’t approach it from our human point of view. We must sense and appreciate its needs, and take care of nature.

This is why I’ve always wanted to paint from nature, to create pictures filled with light and happiness, the way I see it. I have been happy doing just that. Now I realize that people like my paintings. I didn’t like making portraits, although I was a professional artist and taught painting at the institute.

Who was your professor?

My father Nil Yablonsky was my teacher since my childhood. I remember all his instructions and I have always followed them. He dreamed of becoming an artist, but the war and revolution prevented this, so he wanted all of his children to become artists.

He taught us differently from what is done in ordinary schools, where you have to portray. My dad said that we had to create rather than portray. He said that you must rub your charcoal-dirty fingers on your sheet of paper to get rid of its whiteness. After that you must use an eraser or a piece of charcoal to make something darker or lighter in your picture, and to keep to the light tone. That was his special way of instruction.

Our parents gave us excellent home schooling. We didn’t go to elementary school. Later we did. Tetia­na enrolled in Grade 7 and I went into Grade 5. Even at school we knew we would be artists. We took our painting seriously and we were successful. We even made portraits of the best students and organized exhibits. After finishing seven years of school, we applied to the Art Institute, but were told that we had to finish a vocational training school first. Tetiana and I enrolled as third-year students, and we graduated from that vocational training school the following year. Then we passed the entrance exams for the Institute of Art in Kyiv. We showed good progress there, I believe, because our father had prepared us well.

You have lived a long life and created beautiful works of art. May I ask you the “eternal” question: what is the purpose of art? What does it give to people?

Recently I heard on TV that it is good to have a work of art at home, a painting or a watercolor, because the artist’s heartfelt emotions are conveyed to the viewer. A reproduction kills the value of art. It hangs on the wall like a dead body. What you need is the original creation; the artist will fill you with his or her emotions, which will make your life easier and help you to solve difficult problems.

I think that art should improve people; it must convey spiritual light; it must help you adopt an easier and more transparent attitude to life; it must cleanse you of gloomy thoughts and ideas. If you have a picture that helps you feel light and bright, then this picture has reached its goal. A painting must emanate goodness.

The artist’s daughter Natalia Volobuieva says that her mother has reached the creative level where she can afford to be free. “Her children and grandchildren have grown up, so she has the time and talent for creating her works the way she chooses. It is clear now that there is no sense in making paintings in order to please some people. Suddenly it became apparent that a picture can be created in one hour. Parts of the canvas are incomplete, something has not been painted, yet the whole thing is full of light, a real gem!”

You were born into a creative family. Can you tell us about your childhood? What were your parents like in their youth?

At home we constantly discussed painting and painting techniques. Artists visited us and discussed certain paintings. I remember the endless debates between the “leftists” and the “rightists” – as artists were tagged back in the 1960s, depending on their creative approach.

I would say that there was a cult of the child in our home: our parents made every effort to make their children’s lives easy and comfortable. The doorbell was placed lower, so was the sink, so we didn’t have problems washing or brushing our teeth. The table in the kitchen was lower because of its sawed-down legs, so we children could feel on a par with the adults, who had to make do with small stools.

Most importantly, we had family traditions. At six a.m. on New Year’s Eve, our father and mother would leave to pick up a Christmas tree, returning with a huge tree. My brother and I would wake up and admire it, because it was a work of art. At one time we even had seven Christmas trees. That was what our parents had decided: let there be lots of beautiful trees but not a single Christmas toy. The result was a forest, and it was an overwhelmingly beautiful holiday. Mom and Dad made masks and costumes for us and the guests. They also glued large colored pasteboards on the walls with cupolas, stairways, and galleries for my brother and me to play with. We also had lots of blocks painted by our father with the paints from his palette. We built towers that reached the ceiling. They turned out to be very picturesque constructions.

Our dad was a very strong creative personality, and this was reflected in everything. He decorated the walls in this room in his own inimitable manner by copying and enlarging my childhood paintings against the white background. The walls in the other room were decorated with pink trees and yellow bushes. At the same time, our parents had an ascetic bent and a disregard for daily routine. They wore simple clothes and our furniture was simple, although our apartment looked gorgeous.

Our parents could turn anything into a work of art; they constantly wanted to create a festive atmosphere. Creativity is a gift, and if you have it, you may consider yourself fortunate and generous.

My cherished dream is to publish a joint catalog of the works created by my parents, two great artists who spent 60 years together.

Today Olena Yablonska can hardly paint because of her failing eyesight and waning strength. Nevertheless, her exhibit at the National Art Museum reveals the spiritual world of a wise and talented individual. This is Yablonska’s present to the people.

For more information on the work of Olena Yablonska-Volobuieva, visit www.v-studio.biz.