“ Angel in flight”

Only those who loved Mykola Bidniak and appreciated his talent were present at the unveiling of his gravestone in Lychakiv Cemetery. Perhaps this is the way it was meant to be? Maybe outsiders shouldn’t go there. From now on, a bronze “Angel in Flight” will always greet those who walk down one of the central alleys of Lviv’s Lychakiv Cemetery and remind them of this remarkable man and artist (see Den, March 11, 2006).

In his last will Bidniak said that he wanted to be buried in the city of lions, where he spent the last 10 years of his life. He lived most of his adult life in Canada, where he was educated, created his works by painting with his mouth, and dreamed of Ukraine, which he had left as a small boy and where he would be able to return only after it became independent. The artist’s wife, the noted singer from Lviv, Mariika Maichyk, introduced Mykola Bidniak to Ukraine, while the international community learned about him thanks to the Association of Mouth and Foot Painting Artists of the World, based in Liechtenstein. Bidniak, who lost his arms at age 15, when a mine exploded, headed this organization for many years.

Remarkably, all those who learn about Bidniak’s creative legacy and life since his death agree that he is the most dramatic personality of the second half of the 20 th century. His friends, who remember his infectious laughter and optimism, say that Mykola was a happy man. They valued his company so much when he was alive that they do not want to let go of him even now.

Perhaps some people would think this unimportant, but Bidniak is in excellent company in Lychakiv Cemetery. Lying next to him is Dmytro Krvavych, the sculptor and veteran lecturer from the art academy, who said of Bidniak: “He is a giant of 20th-century Ukrainian icon painting. We do not have a more spectacular personality in the sacred art of our time. I think that only a man who has access to another, higher, world can create such masterpieces. The creativity of this genius spans many genres and is unique in terms of complex techniques and rich palette. It is extremely important to study every aspect of his creativity. We still do not know who Mykola Bidniak is for us; we do not realize in whose company we are.”

On the other side of Bidniak’s grave is Emanuil Mysko, probably one of his closest friends with whom he shared his joys and sorrows. Prof. Mysko, rector of Lviv’s Academy of Arts, marveled at the Mykola Bidniak phenomenon. He wrote: “Does not Mykola represent an enigma? He was raised and educated in a foreign modern environment but nevertheless remained Ukrainian by profession, vocation, and creative orientation. Does he not set an example worthy of being emulated by some of our homegrown aesthetes, who are trying to outstrip cosmopolitans and amaze the formalistic world?

“This world has not conquered Mykola Bidniak with his inherently creative way of thinking and national mentality. From a great distance, he clearly saw, sensed, and appreciated the native Ukrainian creative heritage that dates back centuries and has undergone natural selection, in which the finest humanistic ideas have continued to evolve.”

To say that it is a shame that Ukraine knows so little about this artist is to say very little. Only art specialists and a handful of aesthetes know which of his creations are stored in which museums. Chornobyl Madonna is at the National Art Museum of Ukraine; Man Engulfed by Fire is in Kaniv. Some works are at the Culture Foundation and the Shevchenko Committee, but most of his creations -about 40 in all — are in the storerooms of the National Museum in Lviv. All these works are gifts.

Meanwhile, Ukraine failed to bestow citizenship on him and did not even contribute any funds to his gravestone. All the expenses — the sculpture by Mykola Posikira, the bronze cast, and installation — were paid for by Moscow businessman Valerii Levin.

“We met in the Crimea,” he recalls. “I watched him work on his plein-air paintings for three years. I heard him speak English and tried to communicate in the same language, but I wasn’t much good at it. And then I heard him speak Ukrainian. I was so happy! I was raised in an orphanage in Sambir and then lived in Kyiv for quite some time, so I can say that Ukraine is not a foreign land for me.

“After Mykola and I became friends, my life acquired a somewhat different meaning. For those who met him even once, Mykola Bidniak served as an example of vital strength and courage. To healthy people he gave strength and sincerity, something we so often lack in this world today. So my wife Ludmila and I wanted to do something for him.”

Mykola Bidniak’s widow is looking forward to publishing a monograph written by the art historian, Dr. Volodymyr Ovsiichuk. The manuscript has been collecting dust for three years. “Three times I have tried to contact the president of Ukraine, Kateryna Yushchenko, and the Ministry of Culture, let alone lower-ranking bureaucrats, asking them to help publish it, but to no avail,” says Mrs. Bidniak. “There is still no money to publish it, despite the fact that Mykola donated his best works to various prestigious Ukrainian museums. The impression is that Ukraine does not need him even after his death, although his destiny and creative work may be regarded as the best example of patriotism, civic, and purely human courage.”

Those who watched him decorate churches, perched high on top of scaffolding, those who heard his excellent lectures at the Chair of Sacred Art at the Art Academy of Lviv, and those who saw his works dedicated to Ukraine’s liberation efforts, painted long before the 1990s or in independent Ukraine, will forever cherish their memories of Mykola Bidniak. After he was awarded the Taras Shevchenko Prize and the Order of Yaroslav the Wise, and after becoming a member of the National Artists’ Union of Ukraine, the artist said, “I have been and remain simply Mykola Bidniak.” Such a statement is possible only from one who has untold riches in his soul.